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?"