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?"