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?"