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?"