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?"