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?"