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?"