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?"