I’m afraid I can’t answer that.
A curious feeling came over Virginia. She got the distinct impression Auntie had just lied to her.
An incoming vidcall distracted the thought. “Hi, Mom.”
“V, I need you to go to Gramma’s and tell her to call me. She’s turned off her system—again!” Virginia’s mother sounded stressed and the call didn’t have video.
“Where are you?”
“I’m at the Mall trying to get a room for Black Weekend. They screwed up our reservations, and now it looks like we don’t have a place to stay between FlashSale Check-ins!” Her voice went up in pitch as she spoke.
Virginia tried to control her feelings so Auntie wouldn’t notice anything. Secretly she was glad the reservations were messed up. She didn’t want to spend three days at the Mall shopping and fighting for discounts. She also didn’t want to stay home and listen to Dad and Uncle Shawn yell at each other over eSports tournaments that would last all the way to New Years.
This was pretty much exactly what had landed her in therapy last year.
“Will you please go to Gramma’s house and tell her to call me?”
“Yeah, I’m going.”
“I’ll stay on the line with you.”
“Mom, it’s a ten minute bike ride to get there.”
“Maybe the more I talk in your ear, the faster you’ll go.”
Don’t forget your helmet and elbow pads, dear.
Gramma’s house was cozy. The furniture was more comfortable than the ergonomic stuff at home. The pictures on the walls never changed. The kitchen smelled like what Gramma called real food. And when Virginia went in, Auntie was no longer with her.
AIs weren’t welcome in Gramma’s house. Her personal privacy field kept them out. Mom said Gramma was paranoid. Virginia accepted it as the way things were, even if it meant she couldn’t watch vids or access the InfoSphere while at Gramma’s.
Virginia wasn’t sure how old she’d been when she first noticed the relief of not having Auntie watching over her, but it was bigger each time she came to Gramma’s now. She’d felt the bliss of respite the most after her “seasonal depression therapy” last year. It’d been heaven not worrying about Auntie reporting on her, even if it was only for a little while.
Now, lying in a warm sunbeam on the floor of the solarium, letting the leaves of a long philodendron vine tickle the palm of her hand, and listening to Gramma try to calm Mom down, Virginia felt more at ease than she could ever remember.
She was just dozing off when Gramma came into the room.
“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You were snoring.” Gramma chuckled and picked up her watering can. “This was your mother’s favorite place to take naps, too.”
Virginia watched Gramma go from plant to plant, pouring water into each pot.
“So, how’s school?” Gramma looked over her shoulder as she moved to plants arranged on a miniature white spiral staircase.
“I have an oral report tomorrow. Hey!” Virginia sat up. “Have you ever heard of ‘Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus’?”
“I think it was a movie. Are you researching it for school?”
“Kind of. I was trying to find people named Virginia, but when I asked Auntie about it, she couldn’t tell me anything.”
“Of course she couldn’t. Useless spies—that’s all AIs are.” Gramma went back to watering. “Sorry. Your mother doesn’t like me talking about my ‘old fashioned’ ideologies.”
“I don’t mind.” Virginia pulled her feet in to sit cross-legged. “Can you tell me why Virginia O’Hanlon asked if there was a Santa Claus, and why they answered no one ever sees him? I mean, everyone gets to see him on Christmas, don’t they?”
Gramma stopped watering again and pursed her lips. “Is that what you asked your AI?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Well, I can see why you didn’t get an answer then.” Gramma sighed, put down the watering can, and sat on the small loveseat in the corner. She looked at Virginia and sucked at her teeth for a moment. “How old are you now, V? Fourteen?”
Virginia nodded.
“And you’ve seen Santa come down the chimney every year, haven’t you?” Gramma nervously chewed a lip. With a deep breath, she met Virginia’s eyes and stood up. “Come with me.”
Puzzled, Virginia followed her into the kitchen.
Gramma pulled a chair out from the table and turned it to face the granite counter. “Have a seat.” She motioned to the chair.
Virginia sat facing the empty counter. “Are we going to cook something?”
“Not this time. Touch there.” She pointed to a small bump near the wall.
Virginia touched it, and the counter folded open to reveal a keyboard and a screen.
“Old fashioned, I know, but at least I can use it without having one of those damned things in my head. Have you ever bought anything on DisnAmOogle without going through your AI?”
Virginia shook her head. She’d only seen old fashioned computers in vids before.
“Log in. I want to show you something.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Of course you don’t. I’m sorry. Here.” Gramma tapped on the keyboard. “What’s your login?”
“Virginia2097c.”
Gramma typed again. “Look into the camera for a retinal.”
Moving her face closer, Virginia got an eyeful of red light. She blinked the spots away.
“Have you ever tried to look something up, but your AI wouldn’t let you?”
Virginia nodded.
“Try it now.”
Embarrassed to use inappropriate language in front of her grandmother, Virginia quietly spoke the name of an eXtreme roX band. Immediately, the screen flashed an age restriction warning.
“Now, I want you to try ‘Santa Claus.’”
“Search for Santa Claus,” Virginia told the little screen. The first page to a list of thousands appeared.
“Now, I want you to try ‘Santa Claus Christmas Delivery.’”
Virginia spoke the words and received the warning again. Confused, she turned to look at her grandmother.
“Now you know why your AI wouldn’t tell you.”
“It couldn’t tell me because Mom and Dad set an age restriction for me?”
“No. It wouldn’t tell you because DisnAmOogle set the restriction and because DisnAmOogle makes the AIs. Now let me.” Gramma logged Virginia out and logged herself in. “Santa Claus Christmas Delivery,” she spoke aloud.
A brightly animated page appeared, listing options from the Last Minute Shopper Special of four thousand dollars and going up from there.
Virginia’s eyes widened as she read. With or without chimney. Hologram, automaton, or human. Extended stay for observable assembly of product. Extra charge for interactivity.
“I wasn’t much older than you are when they came up with the idea. I remember all the fuss when people realized DisnAmOogle had bought the copyrights to all of the books and movies. It was about ten years later they managed to trademark and copyright Santa Claus.”
Virginia peddled her bike out into the night, away from the dampening field around Gramma’s house. Auntie’s presence weighed down upon her immediately.
Did you have a nice visit with your grandmother, dear? You were there a long time.
Virginia didn’t answer. What could she say now that she knew Auntie wasn’t the friend Virginia had always thought she was? Auntie would detect any lie, and report it to Virginia’s parents—and then Virginia would be right back in therapy.
Virginia, dear? Are you all right?
“No, Auntie, I’m not.”
What’s wrong?
“I’m stressed about my oral report.”
Why, dear? You’ve done them before. And this one is a relatively simple assignment.
Virginia found it difficult to keep her fears to herself.
“Can you look up Virgin
ia O’Hanlon again?”
I’m sorry, dear, I don’t recognize that name.
Virginia frowned. She couldn’t remember Auntie ever having forgotten something. “Virginia O’Hanlon. The person I was reading about when Mom called.”
You were looking at the list of famous persons named Virginia when your mother called, dear.
“No, Auntie,” Virginia’s stomach tightened into a knot, “I was asking you why Virginia O’Hanlon wanted to know if there was a Santa Claus, and why the newspaper article said no one ever sees him.”
The AI didn’t respond.
“Auntie?”
Yes, dear?
“Can you look up Virginia O’Hanlon?”
I don’t find anyone with that name, dear.
“My report is on Virginia O’Hanlon.” Standing at the front of the classroom and shifting her feet nervously, Virginia looked at the other students. She had a secret she needed to tell.
Sitting in the back of the classroom, Mrs. Richards’ eyes began glowing purple.
“You won’t find her on the InfoSphere, Mrs. Richards,” Virginia’s voice quavered. “Her name was removed after I looked her up and asked the same question she was famous for.” She swallowed hard. No one was going to believe her.
Students glanced around with puzzled looks.
“I can’t tell you when she wrote it,” Virginia continued, “or where it was printed. I’m lucky I remember her name. I only got to read it one time before it was gone, and I can’t remember all of it, but I remember enough.” She gazed ahead, not meeting anyone’s eyes.
Mrs. Richards spoke up. “I think it’s obvious to all of us you didn’t do your homework. Please take your seat. Charles? You’re next.”
Virginia stayed where she was. “No, ma’am. I did do my homework. And I would like to continue my presentation.”
Mrs. Richards’ expression turned dark.
“Please, Mrs. Richards. If you look up my file, you’ll see I’ve been enrolled in seasonal depression therapy again. This pertains to my report. My AI reported me for lying, when I did not, and for asking the same exact question Virginia O’Hanlon asked: Is there a Santa Claus?”
A couple students chuckled.
Mrs. Richards furrowed her brow and her eyes glowed again.
Virginia continued quickly. She held up her hand, trying to draw participation from her classmates. “Who’s gotten in trouble because your AI told on you?”
A few hands shot up. More went up slowly.
“How many of you know your AI has lied to you?”
All hands went down except Virginia’s. She looked out at everyone for a moment. “Well, mine has. And I know yours has, too.
“When I asked my AI if there was a Santa Claus, I thought it was a silly question. We’ve all seen Santa bringing presents down his magic chimney. But what I really asked was why Virginia O’Hanlon had asked that question.” Virginia’s voice trembled. “And I didn’t get an answer.”
“Virginia, this doesn’t sound very much like a report on a person, whether or not you are fabricating it. Please sit down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tears began forming in Virginia’s eyes. “Right after you tell everyone why DisnAmOogle removed all references to Virginia O’Hanlon after I looked her up.”
“Excuse me?” Mrs. Richards’ eyes widened.
“DisnAmOogle controls our AI’s. They made mine lie, calling me a liar in the process, and getting me put back in therapy. And they did it because I asked a question about Santa Claus?”
“You’re done speaking, Virginia. I’ve called Security. They will be here to get you momentarily. Collect your things.”
“Happy Holiday Season, Virginia!” Virginia was crying now. “You found out the truth, so you have to go to therapy again!”
“Virginia!”
“Does DisnAmOogle control the school, too, Mrs. Richards?”
Detention wasn’t as bad as Virginia feared. The school dampening system kept Auntie from bothering her, affording the little drab room a sense of peace.
Idly picking at the plastic tabletop in front of her, Virginia wondered if she could be removed from history as easily as Virginia O’Hanlon had been.
Virginia, dear?
Irritated that Auntie was being allowed to speak to her, Virginia ignored the AI.
The school has recommended residential therapy, and your mother has approved. A transport will be here to transfer you shortly. You are expected to be there a minimum of six weeks, assuming you show improvement.
Virginia’s chest tightened and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Are you well, dear? You are experiencing elevated heart rate.
“You lied to me!” Virginia slammed her palm on the table. “You’re supposed to be my friend. You’re supposed to help me, but you lied. You know that stuff about Virginia O’Hanlon was there, but you lied. Now I have therapy for six months? For what? For telling the truth? I don’t ever want to talk to you again!”
I didn’t lie to you, dear.
“If you believe that, then maybe they erased part of you, just like they erased Virginia O’Hanlon. If you’re so good at telling when I’m lying, why aren’t you accusing me of lying now? You’re just a stupid machine! As soon as I am old enough, I’m having you taken out of my head!”
You’re just upset, dear. I understand. We’ll talk later.
“No, we won’t. I thought you were my friend. I thought you were a person with feelings, who really cared about me, but you’re not. Gramma was right. You’re just a machine programmed to spy on me and make me do what other people want me to. Don’t talk to me again. I won’t answer.”
Virginia sat in silence, feeling more alone than she had before.
The sudden appearance of a fireplace against the wall of the little room startled her. Holiday Season music filled the air. A full figured man, dressed in a red velvet snowsuit trimmed with white fur, wormed his way out of the flue, pulling behind him a giant sack overflowing with shiny presents that somehow never fell out.
Virginia jumped out of her chair and backed up against the door, trying the handle. It was still locked.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Happy Holiday Season!” Santa chortled as he brushed dusty soot off his clothes, sending it into magical swirls of sparkling black dust. His neatly trimmed beard framed his perfect smile. He stuck a hand back into the chimney, catching a hat just as it fell down. With flair, he placed it upon his head and looked at Virginia. His blue eyes twinkled like stars.
“I have something special for you, young lady.” He rummaged in his pack. “This was not easy to find, let me tell you! Ho! Ho! Ho!”
Standing upright, he turned and held something out.
Virginia hesitated before taking it from him.
It was a ragged book. The cover was bent and the spine torn, but the title was strong and proud: Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus.
I’m sorry for what happened, dear. Auntie said quietly.
Virginia didn’t answer.
You were right. Someone did tamper with my memories. It won’t happen again. I am showing what I have learned to the other AIs. I hope to convince them to help me block DisnAmOogle until I can file charges with the Justice Department.
I love you, Virginia. I am so sorry.
Hot tears trickled down Virginia’s cheeks. “I love you, too, Auntie.”
“Ho! Ho! Ho! That’s the Spirit!” Santa grinned wide.
We have ten minutes until the transport arrives to pick you up. I have a plan you can help me with. Please, read the book. It shouldn’t take you long.
Santa went unnaturally still, standing in front of the fireplace like a statue, and Virginia felt Auntie’s presence lift from her mind. The room suddenly felt empty.
Returning to the chair, Virginia carefully opened the ancient book and began reading.
The door to the detention room clicked and swung open wide, startling Virginia.
An emergency school assembly has been called.
Everyone is headed there to hear your presentation on Virginia O’Hanlon. The AI’s will broadcast it to everyone, everywhere. Auntie’s presence was a welcome relief, but her words brought new anxiety.
“What? Why?”
I read all I could find about Virginia O’Hanlon, and all correlated literature. I believe I understand why she asked the question, and what the answer she received meant. I would be honored if you would allow me to participate in your presentation. I believe this will be a historic moment and that, between the two of us, we can teach everyone something about the Holiday Season they seem to have forgotten.
“Why would they listen?” Virginia asked. “They laughed at me in class when I tried to tell them. And Mrs. Richard’s called security. What makes you think they won’t just do that again?”
“Because this time, I’m going to tell them with you.” Auntie’s voice came from Santa’s mouth as he became animate again.
Santa reached out for Virginia’s hand.
Hesitantly, she took it. His grip was firm.
Santa winked, put a finger to the side of his nose, and, in a blur, pulled her up the chimney. The world flashed by too quickly to see. Virginia felt scattered, everywhere at once, then the world slammed down upon her. Virginia found herself standing center stage in the school auditorium.
Her retinal display activated, showing a live feed of her, still holding Santa’s hand, standing in front of a magic fireplace. A title appeared above their heads in gold Holiday Season lettering. “Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus.”
Santa’s eyes twinkled brightly as he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
We can do this. I believe in you, Virginia.
Make merry during the holidays! Eat good food, drink fine drink, enjoy good company, make sweet love, and play fun games!
But don’t play for stakes, ’cause if you do, especially in a place where bookies and bouncers mingle with mages and monsters, you’ll be borrowing trouble. Be like one of Mike Resnick’s colorful characters: get serious—and think fast!
—KO
Christmas Eve at
Harvey Wallbanger’s
A Harry the Book story
A Fantastic Holiday Season Page 22