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?"