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?"