A lone one-length train car speeds through the open land, piercing the blizzard with a sharp yellow light cutting through its misty winds. Inside, the train cart sways from side to side, rocking a baby gently in a mother’s arms. A boy sitting next to the mother, his legs rapidly swinging off his seat, looks at the only other person standing in the open space of the small car, whose eyes lay gently on them both.
Holding a rusty pole going through the cart, the man wears what can be presumed to be at least three layers of coat; well-maintained, oversized pants with the ends covering his snow boots; similarly oversized gloves that could fit another hand in them; a muffler, scarf and a large container burdening his back. A small backpack is wrapped around the container.
The boy looks at the container for some time. “Mister, whatcha got in there?” he blurts out.
The man quickly checks his watch, then looks down, whispering words.
“Miste—” the boy says before getting cut off by his mother.
“Trop, stop it,” she says before looking at the man, pressing her lips. “Forgive my son, mister. We weren’t expecting this long of a train ride.”
“It’s been an hoooour, Mother.” The boy looks at the man again. “Mister, what’s your name, and what’s in the box?”
The man huffs, looking over and says in a soft voice, “Stig, and I’m on route to deliver a package.”
“But what’s in the package, Stig?”
The mother narrows her eyes. “That’s enough, Trop.”
Stig checks his watch. “An important task.”
The wheels on the cart rip across the rail tracks as the cart begins to slow to a crawling stop. The lights flicker in the cart. Stig looks up then at the exit doors.
The mother slowly puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh dear, I wonder what’s happened.”
Stig quickly checks his watch. “I won’t make it at this rate,” he mumbles before going to the doors and opening them.
A rush of cold air and snow assault his eyes, but Stig squints, walking out of the cart and closing the door behind him. Heading up to the front of the locomotive, he finds the conductor standing outside as well, looking forward. A large tree has fallen over blocks the tracks ahead. Stig checks his watch again and calls the conductor.
“How long will the detour be?”
The conductor spins around, squinting, looking at Stig as if trying to see who’s underneath all that clothing.
“A few hours. There’s another track that goes around this. Go back inside to your family,” the conductor says. Stig stares off for a moment, shakes, then looks beyond the fallen tree. He checks his watch again before tightening the straps on the container and the backpack and walks forward.
The conductor puts a hand on his shoulder. “Whoa, whoa. It’s a storm out here. Someone of your age won’t last long.” Stig lunges ahead, discarding the hand and descending further into the storm.
The storm throws a tantrum, the howls of the wind screaming, tearing past Stig’s scarf and into his ears. He checks his watch, leaning forward. The container is held close to his chest, in wraps of layers he wore, exposing his skin to the sharp needles of ice from the storm. But Stig’s mind lay at rest knowing that the container is warm against the breath-seizing temperature.
There is no end in sight, around the clouded expanse that encompasses him. Stig closes his eyes and mutters to himself. “Grant me strength … please.” With passing minutes, his breath shortens, his steps less firm in the powdered snow, his sight loses focus.
However, something appears in the distance. A faint wall of brightness spreads across the horizon. The closer Stig moves, the view becomes more visible, and in turn, Stig sighs in relief. As he walks closer, the blanket of snow soon disappears, sprouting green grass and bushes, and eventually tall trees. Stig feels the sun beam down and break through the canopy above. Looking back, the storm still continued in its own contained area. Checking his watch, Stig spends no time watching the scene. Stig quickly strips off his heavy coats, scarf, mufflers and boots in favor of thin loose jeans, a plain shirt and a jacket. Stig then straps the container to his back and continues forward.
“Making good time,” Stig says, checking his watch as he walks.
“Sorry kid, the road’s closed,” the toll booth officer says as she goes back to her post, opening a newspaper. The roadblock in front of Stig is a couple of collapsed rocks, blocking the pathway ahead. Stig scoffs, glaring at the officer.
“How did this happen?”
“Hmm?” she says, barely looking up at Stig.
Stig waves his hand fruitlessly at the rumble. “This.”
“A food delivery kid for Star Rush made his way down the path, causing quite a commotion. Seems he caused such a commotion that the rocks along this mountainside fell into the valley path. Food deliveries these days.”
Stig rolls his eyes and checks his watch. “Agreed. Is there another path?”
“No. Just this one,” she says, flipping to a new page before slapping her head, “Oh wait. I found something.”
Stig perks up. “Yes?”
“50% off coupons for any Star Rush menu item back in Star Town. Lucky me, am I right?” she says, looking up at Stig. By that point, he is walking back to Star Town, gripping his palms.
Stig glances over at the Star Rush building as he walks down the sidewalk. Most of the buildings in town stand two stories tall. This one towers over the rest. A line builds up along the sidewalk, customers raving about the shop’s unique mix of flavorful and exotic menu items. Stig slows his pace as he’s able to pick out a conversation amidst the sea of comments between a curious couple.
“Red snapper crab legs?”
“I know, right? This place has got everything.”
“Well, other ones down south have options exclusive to their area. I hear they are quite good.”
“Except for Sue Run’s Pizza.”
“What is that?”
“Beats me. Just some old shop. Sure it’s nothing important.”
Stig picks up his pace again, fists in his pockets.
At the entrance, a person scrambles out of the shop and collides with Stig’s front. Immediately Stig falls on his belly, hitting his face on the concrete sidewalk. Slowly getting up, he sees his assailant is another food delivery transport. The transporter was a bit taller than Stig, wearing large metal shoes, tighter clothes, two arm bracers with hooks attached and a satchel over his shoulder. He holds out his hand to Stig.
“So sorry. Are you okay there?” Stig furrows his eyebrows before standing up.
“I’m fine.” Stig then brushes past the delivery boy and walks further down the sidewalk. Shrugging, the delivery boy bends low. The shoes glow red, vibrating intensely before propelling the transporter forward. Quickly, he shoots a grappling hook at the edge of a roof and zips off toward it. The line of customers cheers, watching the boy go on delivery. Stig doesn’t. He heads into a diner.
“We have sizzling Spirit Called Elk Steak, Blue Glow Mushrooms and Veggies Stir Fry, Olives and Greens picked fresh from the Giant River, Green Grass Fed Giant Cow Steak with sweet crispy potato fries, drenched Dark Moon Chicken Bre-”
Stig cuts off the casually-dressed waiter. “How about oatmeal?”
She nods slowly, though with a raised eyebrow. “A fair choice,” she says as she walks off, writing the order on her notepad. Stig looks at the container he set beside him and pats it. Looking out the window next to him, he sees most of Star Town. The town is surrounded by a wall of mountains, reaching high above to nearly touch the clouds in the blue sky. The only path through the mountains is now blocked off. Stig checks his watch and frowns, tapping a finger on his head and looking at the mountains
“I need to find a way through it. Going around will consume too much time.”
“Are you in a rush for something?” Stig’s head snaps to the voice to find a woman sitting across the table in the other window booth, her legs tucked close to her chest. She wears similar clothing to Stig, only with no jacket, two long braids over her shoulders and two worn-out gloves.
“What does it matter to you?”
She shrugs. “You just seem lost in thought. That and you’re the only one in this diner hauling that big container around.” She takes off her gloves and gently points at the container next to Stig. “It’s not a usual thing you see every day.” Stig looks at her. She looks at him. Silence prevails between them.
“So, what’s your name?” she finally says. Stig presses his lips flatly before looking over his container for any dents or openings.
“There’s no need to be a stranger. Here, I’m Luna. My group and I are making rounds, traveling across the lands.” Stig continues to check the container, flipping it over carefully.
“So … what about you? What’s your name?” She asks. Stig huffs, muttering words to himself.
Luna cocks her head. “Unless you don’t have one. Though then I’d need to call you something other than person with a hauling container that emits hea-”
“Stig. My name is Stig. So can you please — ” Stig gets cut off as the waiter comes back with his oatmeal.
“Here you go,” she says, placing the meal in front of him with a spoon. Stig takes the spoon and eats, slurping down the oatmeal.
Luna looks at the oatmeal and blinks. “You ordered … oatmeal.”
“Yes,” he responds before eating more oatmeal.
Luna swipes the menu from the front and comes back, plopping back in the booth, reading it. She raises her eyebrows. “Did you look at the menu?”
“Yes.”
She flips the menu to show him, running her finger down. “And the other options just turned you off?”
“Oatmeal is the optimal food for my task. It fills my stomach, provides long-lasting energy and eases digestion. I know from experience.”
Luna shakes her head, looking at the oatmeal. “Are you not going to live a little? Can you not afford it?”
“I can definitely afford it.”
“Then why did you order oatmeal? That’s the cheapest option and not to mention the blandest option.”
Stig squeezes his temple. “I believe I explained myself clearly. I’m thinking so I can try to figure out a way to — ” The door to the diner bursts open, sunlight shining into the dimly-lit diner. Scrambling into the diner is a large ocean-blue jellyfish, with its long string-thin tentacles waving wildly in the air as well as the arms start grabbing onto the walls and seat booths. Stig raises an eyebrow at the scene. Luna smiles and rests her head on her hand, looking at the giant expectantly. The giant’s movement is immediately put to a halt by the waiter standing in front of the door. She looks at the giant and chuckles, side stepping to the wall. The giant hops by the waiter and toward Stig and Luna. The head pops up and reveals a boy underneath.
“Luna!” The boy dives into Luna’s chest. She easily catches him before setting him back on the floor, his chin just above the table.
“Luna, the group’s waiting for you! Where’ve you been?”
“Well, I was about to come over until a giant Spirit Caller barged out of nowhere and attacked me,” she grins. Stig looks at the two and keeps silent, looking at his container then out the window, scanning the mountains. Tall as they were, Stig thinks if he saw any climbing gear around town. A risky option but —
“Stig!” Stig snaps his head back to the voice. The boy is now sitting on his knees next to him, holding his crafted Caller like a cape. “Can you sign my Spirit Caller?” Stig blinks at the boy and glances over at Luna. She takes a good long sip of water from her canteen.
“I … um.” He looks at the boy again, his eyes gleaming. He sighs. “Sorry, I can’t.” The boy hops off the booth and nods.
“That’s alright. You should keep an eye out for the Spirit Callers. Me, Luna and the group are going to the spot where they frequently traverse.”
“That is if you go back to your mother. She must be worried about you.” She put a hand on her head. “I’ll be back soon, little Spirit Caller.” The boy gives a toothy smile before running off and out of the diner.
Luna continues to smile. “He’s a bit energetic. But, that’s the charm of all children.” Stig stares off for a moment, tapping his head, tapping his foot.
“And now, I lost my train of thought. Great.”
Luna eyes Stig. She then leans forward, offering her hand in the air. “What’s the problem?” Stig continues to stare off at nothing. Luna sips her water, waiting.
Eventually, Stig looks at her. “I’m trying to get past the mountains.”
“Past the mountains. What about the road through them?”
“It’s blocked off.”
Luna leans back. “Rough. Where ya heading?”
Stig pauses a moment. “The Looming Mountains.”
Luna glances at the container then checks her nails for chips. “That must be some high-value cargo for your clients.”
Stig looks back through the window, at the mountains. “You say you travel around. Do you know a quick path through them?”
Continues looking at her nails. “You don’t want to take that path with my group.”
Stig leans forward over the table. “Take me with you.”
Luna leans forward. “It’s not an easy path, Stig. You could get hurt, along with your cargo.”
“Please. Show me, Luna. My task is important.”
Luna looks at him, then sighs. “Do you have your own rations?”
“Yes.”
“Your own bedding?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, on one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Order something other than oatmeal. I’ll pay for you.”
***
A clump of impossibly tall trees, like giants standing idle, ascends up along the mountains, wrapping between blackened rock and wood, a marriage running seemingly to the top. Luna’s group, consisting of children, mothers, fathers, lone travelers and workers, clamor around a particular tree with a long rope attached to the stem.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Luna says. “They say the tree and mountain embody the spirit of two lost lovers, their love holding strong after — ”
Stig walks up closer to the tree. Scanning, he sees the rope scale the stem up the mountain. “This will take too long.”
Luna frowns. “Not as long as you think.” As she says that, a line of the mothers with their children cradled in their arms shoot up the stem with incredible speed, as if they were running up the tree. “Makeshift zip lines. My parents made them long ago. Similar speeds to how those Star Rush delivery boys make their rounds.”
The group around the stem gets smaller and smaller with each trip. The boy from the diner and his mother sit by a tree stump working on the craft Spirit Caller with Stig a little further to the side, checking his container.
“I’m sure the Spirit Caller will come to me this time,” the boy says. His mother shakes her head.
“The Spirit Caller doesn’t come to those who ask, little one. They are creatures of intense emotions and they call to lost souls. I will tell you more later.” Soon, it’s just Luna and Stig at the stem of the tree. Luna straps Stig to a harness around his waist, then attaches several clips to the rope, a main one to a small metal device with a red button.
“Push and hold that button; it’ll do all the work.” Stig checks his watch then nods. Pressing the button, Stig accelerates up the tree, gaining higher and higher. Looking out, he sees Star Town afar, growing smaller the further he climbs, nearing the top.
“Progress. Making progress and fair time.”
Until he stops, jerking up.
Stig looks at the mechanism and pushes the button again. Nothing. He shakes it around. Nothing. He checks his watch before looking up.
One of the travelers above calls. “It’s stuck. That container is weighing you down. We’ll have to lower you down and try separately.” Stig checks his watch and mutters to himself. Mother, grant me strength. Quickly, Stig grabs the rope with his gloves, positions his legs against the mountain rocks and starts pulling himself up. With each huff, with each pull, he inches closer to the top. Yet with each pull, he feels his gloves begin to lacerate, the scabrous rope pulling his skin. His hands start to burn, like fire searing his flesh, veins and eventually bones, his core on the verge of breaking like a stretched rubber band, his fingers clamping up. With all his energy, he finally makes it to the top, rolling on his stomach.
The traveler goes over Stig. “Are you alright, mister? That was an unwise decision. You could have broken the harness.” Stig picks himself up, checking the container and sighs in relief.
“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He repeats before sitting down, sweat rolling over his eyes. The traveler shakes his head before calling down with a cone shaped instrument.
“Luna, you’re up.”
Luna’s group makes camp for the night in an open expanse, fields of long grass swaying in a hypnotic rhythm like a flowing wave as the blue sky darkens. Many small fires are scattered across the space, with some individual families chopping vegetables, marinating pork and chicken in a bath of spices and tending to their jubilant children. Others play soft music and tell stories to pass the time. Stig sits by a fire while Luna helps a mother with her two babies, cooing one of them to sleep, singing a lullaby.
Stig looks beyond the expanse, over the rolling hills and mountains ahead, to the fainting sun on the horizon.
He looks at Luna. “Why have we stopped? We still have some light.”
Luna glances at Stig. “This is a lovely spot for our group to rest. You’ll see.” Luna bounces her leg up and down for the baby.
Stig checks his watch. “We can still cover a couple kilometers.”
Luna diverts her attention to Stig. “You can go, if you wish. I won’t stop you.”
Stig looks at her, his mouth open, but then closes it, looking at the fire. Luna tilts her head, then looks at the baby, finding it in a deep sleep, and passes it to the mother. She then sits in front of the fire, near Stig.
“Do you not know the way?”
Stig flashes a glance at her then at the fire. “No. This is my first transport.”
“Your first? Do you not have a mentor to guide you?”
Stig shuffles his body over to the container and scans it over. “No. She’s … not around anymore.”
“Oh um, I’m sorry … Stig.” Luna glances over at the mother and mouths words. The mother looks at Stig, then Luna, then gestures to the marinated food beside the fire. Quickly, Luna speaks. “Here, let’s cook some of the meat for the group. I’ll teach you.”
“I know my way around a knife and cooking. I would rather not.” Stig goes through his backpack and pulls out a thermometer, rotating the container to reveal a small hole in it. Sliding the thin end, he waits.
“165 degrees Fahrenheit. Optimal temperature,” he reads. He pulls the container over to the fire and sits beside it, wrapped in two layers of cloth. Time passes over, the night sky gets darker, before a wonderful hue of elegant blue fills the sky. A gentle call, similar to a whale, rings across the land. Luna looks up and quickly points, a smile on her face.
“The Spirit Callers! They’re here! Andra, call the others.” The mother at the fire gathers the others in the group and rushes them behind Stig, who’s still looking at the container, checking the temperature.
Luna gets up and nudges Stig. “Stig, come on! You should see this.” She runs off behind him. Stig doesn’t bat an eye. He checks the temperature again then his watch.
“Almost there. Cutting it close.”
Stig focuses on his hands. Small tears in the skin, red blisters and pus. Stig taps the pink area and a sting of pain surges through his hand. He grimaces.
“Stig, are you listening?” Stig looks up, finding Luna next to a statue of a winged boy on the cobbled road in the forest.
“No.” Stig looks at his watch and paces forward, past the statue. Luna sighs, looking at it again.
“I suppose I’ll tell him some other time.” Luna quickly follows behind.
Stig looks forward. “I don’t see why you’re following me. The area of the Looming Mountain is pretty self-explanatory.”
“I just want to make sure. So, are you going to reveal what’s inside the container?”
Stig huffs. “Why?”
“Well, for starters, the aroma coming out of it is fantastic.” Stig stops walking, turning to her.
“You think so?”
“Got a whiff ever since I stepped into that diner and met you. And even now, I can still get that alluring aroma,” Luna says, smiling wide. Stig gives a bit of a smile as well, looking at the container. Turning back around, Stig sees in the distance a couple mountains.
“There it is!” He quickly jogs down the road, Luna following after him. Past trees and stone, Stig arrives. A clump of tall slender mountains floats in front, hundreds of feet off the ground, reaching higher and higher into the sky above. A set of floating platforms for steps run along the sides of the mountains, every few stopping at a door with a golden lamp lit above them.
“Wow. I don’t see why they use the word ‘looming’. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s where my transport destination is.” Stig looks at his container, then Luna. “Alright, I’ll tell you.”
Stig arrives at the door, ringing the bell once, and waits. A figure opens the door, tall and slender like a plank board, pointed ears, long robes of silk and a clean face. Stig quickly opens the container and pulls out a flat white container.
“Package delivery 103 to Mr. Rone from Sue’s Run Pizza. Item order: a large pizza with glowing red mushroom — ”
“You’re late,” Mr. Rone grumbles, taking the container and opening it. His face lightens up as the aroma washes over him. “But your talent is superb and holds up — unlike the other delivery boys some of the other residents order from. However, being late on your first run doesn’t hold the best hopes, Stig.” Stig looks down for a moment, looking at his watch, rechecking how long he took.
“Your mother, Sue. She left some big shoes to fill. But now, I wonder if you can even fill those shoes.” Stig stares off at the ground, muttering words to himself. Mother, I’m-
Mr. Rone presses his face close to Stig, his hunched over figure towering over him. “Maybe it’s because you lack confidence.”
Stig shakes his head, flustered. “No … no, that isn’t true.” Stig erects his back and grips his hands, his mouth dry. “I … I can do it.”
Mr. Rune looks at Stig, doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I will always do my best to make the fastest deliveries while upholding quality. You can count on me.” Mr. Rune looks at Stig. Then, he presses and swipes a screen on the side of the entrance wall. Finally, he tips Stig.
“Your payment has been sent. Don’t let us down, Stig.” The door closes and Stig promptly leaves.
“Well, what did they say? How much did they tip you?” Luna says, walking after Stig back down the road.
“I was late.” Stig shows the coin to Luna then cups it.
“Enough to buy a good meal at that diner, but they should pay you more. They don’t know the distance you’ve traveled. The work you put in.”
“It wasn’t my best. I have to do better.”
“But … ”
“Luna, I thank you for your help. However, next time, if we ever cross paths … it’s best we don’t chat. You do what you do. And I’ll go about my business. No interruptions, no hassle.” With that, Stig jogs off. Faintly, he hears Luna call. “The next order you’ll get is from me!”
Stig travels through, passing mountains and forests, weathering winter storms and enduring beaming suns. With the tip money, he orders oatmeal from the diner in Star Town. And soon he pulls up close to his hometown, wandering down the streets to a squeezed shop between two buildings. Entering, pulls up a tablet for new orders.
“Luna Crest, package delivery 104.” Stig deletes the order. Below, a new list of orders appears and Stig gets to work.
Statement Contributor Aditya Kannan can be reached at kannana@umich.edu