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?"