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?"