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?"