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?"