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?"