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?"