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?"