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?"