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?"