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?"