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?"