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?"