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?"