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?"