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?"