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?"