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?"