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?"