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?"