I woke up in the dead of night, thanks to a soft paw, prodding at my cheek insistently. Blinking back to the waking world, I turned my head to stare dead on at the culprit, conveying my profound annoyance. He didn't care, and the next swipe of his paw poked me in the eye.

"Goddammit, Arthur," I groaned, rising slowly from my foldable bed and dislodging him from my chest in the process.

Arthur meowed softly as he hit the floor, but didn't complain beyond that. He'd woken me up for a reason, after all, the only reason he ever bothered with physical activity. Not the best way to wake up, to be sure, but a glance at the clock told me it was nearly time, anyway. Reaching for the overhead cabinet, the only one with a code lock on its face, I pressed four digits thoroughly ingrained into my memory (no, I'm not telling you which ones), and pulled the door open. I grabbed a bag of store brand cat food, and tossed it at the little glutton. He caught it easily in midair, before bunny hopping with it between his paws to the empty food tray in the corner. Typical, really, the big orange fluff-ball loved that tray more than anything, especially when he had something to eat in it.

I still remember, back when Arthur first adopted me by climbing into my truck and refusing to leave. I'd buy fancy cans of brand-label food, carefully opening each for him at mealtime. Then, I realised that his food preferences mirrored my own: anything goes, as long as there's plenty. After that, I bought the biggest bags of the supermarket's private label: not only was it much cheaper, but it was also funny to watch him tear them open before digging in. Honestly, Arthur's as dumb as a bag of rocks, except when it comes to food, then, he's suddenly Einstein, all precision and grace, and never a single scrap of paper eaten. I'd know, I used to check religiously, those first few days after the swap.

I decided to grab something for myself, too, seeing as I was up now, and sleep didn't seem keen to return. Heading out of the sleeper cab, I parked myself back in the driver's seat, grabbing a cereal bar from the underseat drawer. Nothing fancy, but enough to keep me going; like I said, I was never much of a foodie, even if I could afford to indulge. The job paid well, really, far more than I'd have expected, coming from a blue-collar family with no degree to my name. The downside, of course, was spending weeks on the road at a time, with only Arthur for company. Many trainees dropped out over it, couldn't deal with the isolation, but I'd always been an introvert even as a kid, so it all worked out fine. Just me, and my cat, against the world.

My eyes turned to the dashboard between bites: a habit, even when it was off. It was the most advanced bit of tech in the truck, hooked up to the supervisors back in head office, telling me when to move, where to go, and the targets to hit. I'd never missed one yet, a point of pride, that. It was hard to keep a completely clean streak, with the roads and traffic being what it was. I'd only been in the job for a year, and even then, I knew mine wouldn't last forever. Eventually, I'd have a bad day, run into a bit of bad luck, and there it goes. That was a worry for the future though, so I put it aside. I was in the middle of nowhere, near the Scottish border, and the dashboard was off. No worries, no nearby lights, except for the moon and the stars in the sky.

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Never to be forgotten for long, Arthur announced himself by jumping into my lap. It was cute when he was a kitten, less so, recently, as a big boy weighing over ten pounds, but I'd never been able to train him out of it. Still, he was fluffy and warm in the cold autumn night, so I couldn't really complain, especially now, as the light show was about to start. I'd followed the reports on the radio closely, and even picked a parking spot just for it, far away from any rest stops and the light pollution that followed. Even the early night's sleep served its purpose, albeit with a slightly earlier alarm clock than intended, courtesy of Arthur. I kept my eyes to the skies, waiting patiently, and sure enough, there it was.

The Northern Lights, a rare sight at the best of times, even more so given the local propensity for rain, but it was an exceptional night, then. We both stared, entranced, as curtains of vibrant colours danced across the night sky, never slowing for long. From pale greens, to bright yellow, to a gentle blue, this was a cosmic dance that invited awe and supplication. Was it a surprise that many worshipped these lights, in the past and even to the present day? Hardly, because who could look upon such sights, and not be moved in the face of something far greater than the self? I lost track of time, in spite of my meticulous nature and instincts honed on the job, because it really was that beautiful. Alas, everything has to end, eventually, even the Northern Lights. In this case, eventually came after half an hour, a good showing by any standards. I stayed in my seat even after it ended, content to replay the scenes in my mind, while my hands rubbed Arthur's cheeks. We stayed like that, until the turning of the hour, and only then did a faint beeping bring us back to reality.

The dashboard switched on, alerting me to my next job, my next target. A 20-year old university student, destined to die of a hitherto unknown, congenital heart failure in twelve hours. I'd find him jogging in the morning, on the streets near Sunderland, and it was my job to strike him at just the right time, to nudge him onto the path of reincarnation. I took a deep breath, stretching out my hands before turning the key, the truck's engine and Arthur purring in tandem. My relaxing night was over, and I was back on the grind. It wasn't easy, being one of the many unnamed drivers who, together, were the face of Truck-kun, but it was honest work.

Plenty of worlds out there are in need of saving, and I would do my bit, to find the right men for the job.