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?"