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?"