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?"