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?"