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?"