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?"