orange-clad train-climber crew, moving  
 along the  rusty cargo  cars  like  some 
 species  of ferrophage  insect.  up  and 
 down  the train, checking  bolts, oiling 
     joints, drinking coffee, smoking     
               cigarettes.                
                                          
            
                                          
 we were  going  south through finland at 
 the   time,  sleeping   close   to   the 
  furnace, watching the aurora borealis.  
  twenty-something members of the crew,   
 most  of   which   were   mechanics,  or 
 loaders,  with  large  and  hairy  hands 
 that could swallow my  entire body.  and 
 me  featuring as the  cute  and  asocial 
 radio  operator,  stationed in the  back 
    of the kilometer-long train, which    
         served me good and well.         
                                          
 and then one night,  there's a  missile. 
 we would routinely pick up  new cars  at 
 the tail, and  drop  some off, as  a way 
 of  earning  some  extra  money.  but  a 
 missile,  and  appearing silently in the 
 middle  of  the  night  at   that?   not 
         entirely... comfortable.         
                                          
 i call it in on the  walkie-talkie.  not 
 many others  awake,  they  know  nothing 
 about it, and appear concerned as  well. 
                                          
            
                                          
 when i  fall  awake  in  the  afternoon, 
 karl  is  there,  smiling  at  me.  "hey 
 boy," he  says,  "wanna  help me make  a 
                  call?"                  
                                          
 after  he's brought me  coffee,  i  dial 
 the  frequency  from  his  notebook, and 
 after  a   while  there's   a  reply  in 
 pan-slavic.  karl  laughs  and  makes  a 
 reply  in the same language. even though 
 we  both have headphones i  can't follow 
 at all, but i hear the  word "missile" a 
                few times.                
                                          
 i'm  almost snoozing  again at  the time 
 karl puts down the headphones and  slaps 
 me on  my  back.  "allright boy. i  just 
 sold a missile."  he  practically  beams 
 at  me, teeth filed sharp. "wanna make a 
                 detour?"