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?"