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?"