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?"