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?"