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?"