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?"