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?"