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?"