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?"