A Fantastic Holiday Season: The Gift of Stories (24 page)

We’ve all heard it: The holidays have become too commercial; TV and film take all the magic out of the season!

Will it get worse in the future? Will our media-saturated, info-congested society throw cherished myths away into the data stream? Will everyone become enslaved by merchandise and memes?

With clarity and heart, Sam Knight explores this idea, as one little girl discovers myth’s critical value over reality.

—KO

Yes, Virginia2097c,
There is a Santa Claus

Sam Knight

Only one more day of school until Holiday Season Break. Dread welled up inside of Virginia, tightening her stomach until she thought she might vomit. She’d tried to distract herself from the looming date, but nothing worked.

The school bus is here.

Virginia blinked to turn off the vid playing on her retinal display. She hadn’t been paying attention to it anyway.

“Thank you, Auntie,” Virginia subvocalized to her family AI as the bright yellow school lev glided up to the bus stop.

You’re welcome, sweetie. Auntie’s voice was a pleasant, female voice in Virginia’s head that could be heard over nearly any external sound.

Nervously, Virginia tucked her mousy brown hair behind her ears and glanced at the other students. Occasionally they teased her for being polite to her AI, but Virginia was sure Auntie’s feelings were real, no matter what everyone else said. Fortunately, the kids around her still had distant expressions and a dim purple glow in their eyes, indicating they were engaged on the InfoSphere.

After horribly bruising her shin by missing the step up into the lev when she was young, Virginia always shut her own “eyes” off during boarding.

Waiting for the kids ahead to file in, Virginia watched a private lev skim by, stirring up autumn leaves into dancing eddies. The musty smell of autumn rolled over her as the artificial breeze teased her hair.

“Auntie, how long until winter?”

Nine days, dear
.

Virginia sighed. In nine days, the autogardeners would collect the last of the leaves. Then they would flock everyone’s homes with fake snow. Although Virginia enjoyed Holiday Lights, she preferred the leaves. They made the dome feel more … alive.

Holiday Season begins in two days, remember?

The sick feeling in Virginia’s stomach came back stronger. It was impossible to hide anything from Auntie, but Virginia did her best to keep it to herself. She didn’t want to repeat the “seasonal depression therapy” she’d been required to attend last year.

So she smiled and tried to do something else impossible. She lied to Auntie.

“I know! I can’t wait!”

The AI sensed the change in her physiology.

Virginia, please don’t lie to me. You know I have to report inappropriate behavior.

“I wasn’t lying, Auntie. I’m just … nervous. I’m afraid people will think I’m not having fun, even if I am. Does that make sense?”

Yes, dear. I understand.

Virginia sighed with relief, hoping the new emotion would be interpreted as being grateful for the empathetic response. Auntie had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, and she knew Auntie was only watching out for her, but sometimes she felt—

You’re daydreaming, dear.

As she found a seat, Virginia blinked and re-engaged her retinal display to the entertainment program she’d been watching. She would be glad to get to school, where family AIs would be overridden to prevent students from cheating, and Virginia wouldn’t have to worry about Auntie analyzing her emotional responses for a while.

“Hey, V. How was school?” Virginia’s older sister, Esther, wore a wide grin as she peeked around the corner from the kitchen.

“Hey, E.” Virginia took off her shoes and put them in the cubby next to the front door. “It sucked. I have an oral report tomorrow. Why are you in such a good mood?”

“No work tomorrow!” Esther came out of the kitchen with a blue cornmeal bread sandwich in one hand and a Chilly-Bev in the other. “Mandatory day off for Holiday Season.” She leaned forward and whispered, “They don’t want to pay overtime next week, so they closed the store today.”

Setting her food on the coffee table, Esther stretched and vigorously rubbed her short, blonde hair, making it stand up. With a contented sigh she dropped onto the couch. “So I’m free all night tonight. What’s your report on?”

Flopping onto the couch next to her sister, Virginia groaned. “I have to research someone famous, who has my name, and talk about what traits we share.”

Esther frowned. “I can’t think of any famous Virginias. I only know the state.”

“Auntie,” Virginia said aloud, “
are
there any famous Virginias?”

There are relatively fewer famous persons than many of your classmates will have to choose from, but there are some, dear.
Auntie’s voice gently filled the room from hidden speakers.

An alphabetical list appeared on Virginia’s retinal display.

“Ug. How am I supposed to find someone who’s like me when there are so few?”

Numbers formed next to the names.
There are twenty who I believe fit your assignment criteria.

“Aw, look on the bright side, V. It’s a short list. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to get on it someday.”

“Seriously?” Virginia skimmed the list. “The illegitimate daughter of a noble? A saint. One … two … seven authors? A tennis player. I don’t have anything in common with any of these people!”

“Oh! Stebo is calling me. Good luck, V.” Esther’s eyes began softly glowing purple as she accepted the incoming vidcall, grabbed her food, and headed for her room where she could sit in front of a vidcam.

“Thanks, E,” Virginia mumbled.

She rolled over and spread out on the couch, staring upwards while reading the display. “Auntie, why do they give us stupid assignments like this?”

There are many reasons for this type of assignment. The most obvious is the self-confidence you will build by doing an oral presentation—

“Sorry, Auntie. I didn’t mean for you to answer. I was just venting. Can we search for other Virginias who aren’t on this list? There
have
to be other people in history with my name.”

A new list began populating, and Virginia scrolled through it as she flipped her legs over the back of the couch and let her head hang upside down off the cushion. Names from blogs and small events went by until something caught her eye.

Virginia stared at the words.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

She pulled up the reference and found a cached list of old books and vids with the same title. Picking one at random, she examined the thumbnail. “What is this Auntie? An old Christmas story?”

Yes, dear.

Virginia selected the story, but it wouldn’t open.

“Auntie, I’m having problems reading this story. Can you help me?”

Let me see, sweetie.
There was an abnormally long pause.
Sorry, dear. That book is no longer available.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you, Auntie.”

You’re welcome.

Picking a vid, Virginia tried to play it. It didn’t open either. Neither did the next four.

“Auntie? Are any of these available?”

No, I’m sorry, they are not.
It appears the copyright holder has taken them all down.

“Isn’t that weird?”

DisnAmOogle is well known for its practice of buying up copyrights and taking products off the market as a sales technique to increase future revenues.

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re welcome, dear.

Undaunted, Virginia examined the list until she spotted a name in one of the descriptions. Virginia O’Hanlon. A new search brought up a startling result:

‘Is There a Santa Claus? The most famous editorial in American journalism … the most widely read letter to a newspaper … history’s most reprinted newspaper editorial.’

Following the link, Virginia came to an image of an old newspaper article:

“Dear Editor: I am 8 years old.

“Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.

“Papa says, ‘If you see it in The Sun it’s so.’

“Please tell me the truth; Is there a Santa Claus?”

—Virginia O’Hanlon’

Virginia frowned. Of course there’s a Santa Claus—everyone’s seen him. Why would it be “history’s most reprinted newspaper editorial”? She continued reading, her brow furrowing deeper as she went.

‘You might as well not believe in fairies! Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus.’

Virginia righted herself on the couch as she stared at the words.

“Auntie, is there a Santa Claus?”

Of course, dear. He brings presents on Christmas. You’ve seen him.

“This old newspaper article says no one sees him.”

Auntie didn’t reply.

“Auntie?”

Yes, dear?

“This old newspaper article says nobody sees Santa Claus, do you know why?”

There was a long pause.

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.