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?"