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?"