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?"