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?"