He raised a finger.
“They are light-years ahead of the human race in biology and communication and data storage—all the things we think we have mastered. They know when we are naughty—” He pointed toward one side of the room. “And when we’re nice.”
“How?” Jane asked, on cue.
“Microscopic drones the size of ice crystals that float on the wind, that settle on your windowsill at night. But that’s not the greatest of their achievements. Every year, the fat man flies around the world in a single night to deliver presents to all the good girls and boys. A single... night.”
He held up a finger once more.
“How, you wonder? Because the sleigh upon which he flies can freeze time inside a bubble. For the fat man, nothing changes. Time crawls. But for the outside world, it continues. He visits each and every house inside this bubble, spanning the world to deliver presents.”
“But—”
“How does he carry that many presents? Another excellent question, Jane. He has a magic bag, only it’s not magic. It’s science, children. Magic are those things we do not understand and the elven understand quite well. The fat man wears a special glove. His bag of goodies is empty until he reaches inside. With a thought, the glove assembles matter to form whatever object he wishes. Gift-wrapped or not, he places it under the tree. And in his time-warping bubble, he has time for a swig of milk and a bite of cookie.”
He sat back down and sipped his hot chocolate, sighing with satisfaction. The rails creaked back and forth.
“How does he get down the chimney?” John asked.
“Does he read all the letters?” Eric the long-haired nicy asked.
“Does he have a talking snowman?” someone else shouted.
The questions continued with more and more enthusiasm. BG put his hand to his ear, waiting for the right one.
“How do the reindeer fly?”
“That!” He pointed at Sally with a yellow bow in her hair. “I don’t know all the answers, but that... how do the reindeer fly?” BG crept toward Sally with his pipe in hand. “How does a balloon fly?”
After several moments, she said, “Helium.”
“Precisely.” A large and cherubic smile rounded his cheeks. “Nine special reindeer are harnessed to this time-stopping sleigh. Nine special reindeer, each with a bladder in their belly that inflates with helium. Nine special reindeer that can run across the sky.”
Laughter accompanied BG as he pranced around the bear rug. Ryder wasn’t rolling his eyes. He was caught up in the story. It was a fantastic fantasy tied together with flimsy threads of logic that was entertaining and hysterical. A story the bearded man believed. Soup caught Ryder’s attention and rolled his eyes.
A story I dreamed about.
“And what’s their names?” BG asked.
And the room called them out in no particular order. Everyone knew the song.
“Donder and Blitzen, Vixen, Prancer... Dasher, Cupid, Comet... Dancer...”
“And?” BG put his hand to his ear. “And?”
The room descended into chaotic giddiness, guessing the same names over and over. BG lifted his arms for quiet.
“Urban legends have taught us all we know, but they haven’t taught us everything. Some things remain a mystery. The name of the last reindeer, the biggest of them all, who is tethered to the front, the one who leads them through snow and sleet, wind and rain. Whose nose does not glow, who is not ignored in any reindeer games.”
He spread his arms and looked over the expectant faces. Perhaps this was a new story. Most of them had heard this fireside chat before, but now a snowflake could be heard if it landed on the floor. Even the naughties were rapt.
“Ronin.” It was Jane who answered.
BG began to smile and nod. “You’ve never heard of him,” he said, “because some things on the Pole remain a secret.”
He began pacing and sucking on the pipe, meeting each and every one of his children’s hopeful looks. Even Soup was listening, cookie in hand.
“Elven technology would be dangerous in human hands, so they hide in the ice to keep us in the dark. But the human race is not an infant. We’re not children to be ignored. Truth dies in the dark. It’s why we stream everything we do, to show the world what we’re capable of doing, to set an example of our human potential. We will lead the human race into the age of enlightenment.”
He pointed across the room, making sure he gestured to every single one of them.
“This year, we’re all going...” he said carefully, slowly, “to the Pole.”
The nicies lost their minds. They stood and cheered, high-fiving and hugging and leaping. Some of the naughties did too, but most were stunned and confused. Ryder wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“You are my family,” BG shouted. “I will not leave you behind in this moment of truth. Together we will find the fat man. We will find my brother! We will find Claus!”
Find my brother? Ryder looked toward Soup, who was nodding at him with wide eyes. Told you.
BG’s voice continued to rise. It carried the excitement to a fevered pitch, sweeping the naughties into celebration. They were caught by surprise. This year, the fireside chat was more than just story time.
It was a gift.
BG just stood and watched, a smile parked on his face, plastic pipe in his mouth. It would be an iconic shot to stream—his children in frenzied adulation with his two trusty sidekicks at his sides.
“Conditions are harsh on top of the world...” he started.
Jane and John helped restore order. When the room calmed to a bubbly jitter, he started again.
“Conditions are harsh. We won’t be the first ones to trek to the top of the planet, but we’ll be the first ones to discover that ancient race that hides inside the ice. We’ll have to train. We’ll take advantage of the mountains here at Kringletown. We’ll hike; we’ll camp. We’ll learn to survive in the cold.”
A hush filled the room like a blanket of Christmas snow. He was leading up to something that sounded miserable. It dampened the excitement like a wet towel over glowing embers. BG drew the anticipation out with a twinkle in his eye.
“Until then, I’ve suspended chores.”
A murmur crawled through the room. The naughties were holding their excitement in check because there was more good news.
He worked the pipe between his lips. “And opened the game room.”
The cork had popped, and the naughties matched the nicies’ enthusiasm then shot past it. Arf was swinging his arms. Soup climbed onto his back. Napkins and plates hit the floor; cups bounced off hovering drones. BG blew on the pipe, and soapy bubbles boiled out. He laughed a hearty ho-ho-ho.
“Merry Christmas!”
Cherry melted into the stir. Her drone navigated the melee and dipped out behind her. Nicies were hugging BG while Jane and John attempted to keep control. Producers entered the room.
The chat was over.
BG was going to drag them all to the North Pole to find Santa Claus. And they were celebrating. This was madness. The truth Ryder wanted to know wasn’t in that icy polar cap. The truth he wanted to know was somewhere at Kringletown.
What’s our purpose?
9
The naughty wing was quiet.
Doors were closed, a few of them decorated. Arf had wrapped their door to look like a giant present with a bow and curly streamers. Glitter dusted the floor. It was enough to win the door-decorating contest.
No one else had made an effort.
The board was mostly empty. No chores, like BG had promised. And no introspections. There was just one activity. It hadn’t changed in days.
Game room.
Cherry’s door was a blank slate of wood. Not a glitter of Christmas spirit. Ryder tapped three times and leaned closer, listening for music and smelling for a whiff of incense.
When she didn’t answer, he squatted down to tie his boot. Then he tied the other boot, turned away from Bradley Co
oper, and quickly shoved a folded piece of paper under the door. Knocking on her door wasn’t going to make the stream.
Sliding a note would.
Because that was what third graders did before cell phones and laptops, when you couldn’t text someone your feelings but had to write them out on paper and pass them across the room.
Or shove them under a door.
Outside, the horseshoe was blanketed with fresh snow. Several tracks led to the barn. A few people were riding horses. They were too far away to see who they were, but they weren’t wearing cowboy hats.
The big mysterious doors were still locked. Carefully, he walked through the breezeway to avoid slipping. The tack room was empty. The drones were still in the woods, as far as he could tell, but the four-wheelers hadn’t left the barn since the game.
Ryder looked up. “To the game room.”
Bradley Cooper led him back inside. Ryder tracked snow into the main corridor. The elevator dropped into the ground a few stories and paused. Ryder braced for the sideways track. Several seconds later, he could hear the party.
Ryder zipped up his coat.
It was hardly a room. The floor was ice and snow. Literally, ice and snow. And the size of the place was impossible to determine. The walls and ceiling were limitless projections of a night sky. Colorful ribbons mimicked the Northern Lights. Ice floes appeared to reach a dark horizon. Gusts of sleet actually stung his cheeks.
Everyone was bundled in winter gear with red cheeks and runny noses. A full-scale helicopter was suspended ten feet off the floor. Eric was dropping snowballs on bearded elven popping out of the ice. It was cold and dark, but no one was going to die of frostbite or get chased by a polar bear.
He’s training us.
There were several other games in action—snowball fights with giant snowmen, sleigh rides, and dogsleds. He leaned into the wind and raised his arm to fend off the sleet. Soup was shouting through his hands. The wind died as Ryder approached.
Arf was inside an icy dome.
He was wearing a black skin suit that stretched over his head. The ice below him moved like an icy treadmill. He leaped over open leads. Elven popped out of holes to throw ice balls, and polar bears roared.
A red and white striped pole wasn’t far away.
“Left!” Soup shouted. “Left, left, left!”
Arf picked up a pair of snowshoes. He was lacing up for a trek over soft snow when a crack appeared. He plunged into black water and emerged shivering. A scoreboard hovered over him. He ranked third.
“Seen Cherry?” Ryder asked.
Soup stared for a moment, recalibrating reality. They weren’t on the North Pole. Arf shuffled to the exit and stripped off the skin suit. Somehow, his clothes were dry, but he was still quivering. They talked strategy while Soup dressed. The suit auto-adjusted to his size like a vacuum seal. The scene inside the dome shifted.
The North Pole appeared in the distance.
“You want to go to the Pole?” Ryder said.
“Not in a million,” Soup said. “I want a warm bed. I’m going to flunk the training and stay home.”
“Soup, this is the training. Look around.”
“I know. But I can’t stop; it’s straight up Christmas in here, bo. That’s why Cherry is nowhere. She’s the opposite of fun, probably digging a hole somewhere.” Arf pulled the hood over Soup’s head. It wriggled around then seemed to vacuum seal around his face. “Go for a helo ride. You’ll see.”
He looked like a human seal. Circuit ridges raced along the suit’s surface. Ryder noticed the subtle bumps near his temples.
“Those are discs.” Ryder tapped his head.
“It’s a neurofeedback suit, simulates the environment. It’s not real in there, Ryder. It’s fake, but my body doesn’t know it.”
“They’re sucking out your thoughts is what they’re doing. That’s why there’s no introspections. You’re in the brain drain.”
“Bill can have them; what do I care? This is awesome.”
He knocked on the dome. The surface rang like a gong. He stepped through the entrance and was knocked down by a sudden gust. Crawling to his feet, he ran to a pair of skis and locked in.
The illusion began.
“She was here,” Arf said.
“Cherry?”
“Didn’t stay long. Saw her at the snowman game. Didn’t play, though.”
There were half a dozen people at that dome, but no one with red hair. He didn’t expect to find her. They weren’t being forced to play. She was probably hiding in her room. Ryder could knock all day, but she wasn’t going to answer. Maybe if she read the note.
“He’s not a bad guy,” Arf said. “He means well.”
“Who?”
“Billy.”
“You trust him?” Ryder said.
Arf shrugged. “It’s better than it was.”
It was hard to argue that. He didn’t know what Arf had been through. Judging by the scars on the side of his face and the misshapen ear, it probably wasn’t good. They had everything they needed, everything they could want.
Except privacy.
Soup was walking over an ice bridge. A polar bear was charging and the bridge started to crumble. He crossed just in time.
“His name is Campbell,” Arf said. “He don’t like that name much.”
“Why?”
Arf shrugged. Everyone had bad things. Arf had a dog. Whatever they had, introspection was pulling the curtain back. Soup didn’t need thought suckers to remember.
Just his real name.
A howl filled the game room. Angst trickled down Ryder’s knees. Across the room, an enormous rack of antlers had risen up. A snout was aimed at the colorful night sky; the lips let out a worried and angry howl. The one at the game. The same one behind the garage when the flashlight was on David’s face.
Did I hear a howl?
“You okay?” Arf said.
Ryder had closed his eyes. He stepped away from the dome and met a blustery alleyway. A reindeer was inside a dome surrounded by nicies in matching white coats and wool caps. Hands raised in fur-lined mittens, they cheered the rider on.
Inside the dome, Jane hung onto the harness, leaning into the turns, steering the reindeer around random birds. Her hair whipped off her face, tears streaming. The ice gave way to rocky ground. A village sparkled in a valley.
“The light!” John shouted. “The red light!”
Warm lights lined the streets; windows were brightly lit where chimneys exhaled smoke. But one house was illuminated by a swinging red light.
Santa Claus was waving.
The reindeer’s legs pedaled the air. Ryder could smell the musk behind the garage, could feel the warm breath on his neck. He shook his head, the memory flashing in vivid detail as the reindeer hit the roof too hard. His backside slapped Santa off the shingles.
Jane went flying.
It looked like a long fall where Santa had landed, but the floor was only a few feet below her. She hit a cushioned pad, laughing as she rolled to her knees. Words floated above her.
No presents for the children!
The nicies clapped their padded mittens. She exited with her arms over her head. Ryder blocked the exit.
“What did you do to me?”
She stepped back into the dome and appeared to levitate over the village.
“I told you not to put those things on me.” He touched his temples.
Kraig grabbed him. Drones smelled blood and swooped in to capture the gold. Ryder spun quickly and ripped out of his grip. John stepped between them before Kraig tried again.
“Hey, hey,” John said, “we’re having fun here, that’s all. If you want to talk about this, let’s do it later.”
The reindeer was staring at Ryder now, blinking big black eyes. “How’d you do that?”
“It’s a game,” Jane said. “That’s all this is.”
That wasn’t just a reindeer. That was behind the garage. It was the one that had attacked Davi
d. Ryder never saw him, but he knew that smell.
They made it real.
“There you are!” Soup grabbed him. “We’re over here. He got lost. Sorry, he was looking for us. Wrong crowd. We look just alike, all of us. So easy to get confused. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
Soup was still suited up, the black hood tightly vacuumed to his head. Arf and other naughties were behind him.
“No.” Ryder balled his fists. “They made a game out of my memory, Soup. They’re stealing thoughts!” He tapped his temple too aggressively. Pain lanced through his brain. He felt it in his legs. “That’s what they’re doing to us.”
Ryder aimed a finger at the growing circle of naughties. The game room was quiet. Snow fell.
“What if your dog was in the dome?”
Arf twitched. He looked more hurt than angry. Ryder was hurt, but he transformed it into rage. All the complaining the naughties did and all BG had to do was wave a few shiny games in their faces and they dived in like penguins into a den of sea lions.
“Back up.” Kraig pushed forward. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“What she take from you, Kraig? Huh? They steal your only memory of playing with dolls? Do they tell you when to bark?”
Kraig made a serious charge this time. It took John and a few others to hold him back. Ryder stood alone, tense and ready. He’d done this before, baited the bully into a fight. He didn’t win many of them. But every once in a while he got lucky.
“He won’t protect you this time,” Kraig said, spit flying.
“What’d you say?” Ryder said.
“You’re alone!”
Arf grabbed Ryder. Kraig sounded like a wild animal. John whispered in his ear. Kraig’s crazy eyes—unblinking and all white—slowly relaxed. His breath eased to an occasional snort.
He lifted his arms.
“Listen, we’re family.” Jane stayed in the middle. “If we’re going to trek the Pole, we have to act like it. We need to work together.”
She looked around and let her voice carry then stepped aside. Kraig sniffed, his jaws clenched. He held out his hand.
“Apologies,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Ryder stared at it. The silence was uncomfortable. Ryder braced for a bone-crushing grip, but it didn’t come. They shook once and let go.
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