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?"