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?"