A half-mile later you’ve made it to your train and take up your usual seat along a handful of familiar faces. Some were reading the morning paper, others were reading a damp, wrinkled version of the same paper, and still others were lost in a trance—watching the snow batter the windows a few inches in front of their long faces. You feel a kick in your seat as the mighty locomotive at the head of the train shudders, letting out powerful barks and a screech of its whistle as it slowly lurches forwards. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d be working a seven-day week for your unicorn employer, but it’s for a good cause.