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?"