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?"