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?"