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?"