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?"