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?"