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?"