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?"