Nikolas Claus, Space Explorer! Pt 6
Nikolas floated onward through space, buoyed by all the explosive power of a wormhole. His mind, unconscious for the first time in several milennia, took the chance to come to terms with what it had learned since he had last laid his head to rest.
They were walking through a forest. There wasn't any need to walk through the forest. They could easily teleport from one end of the forest to the place where They were meeting. They could have a meeting on the moon, and They could teleport there too. But sometimes, They preferred to walk.
"Are you worried?"
"About what?"
"Just... worried."
"No."
They walked on in silence.
"Its just..."
"Things are always getting worse. Things always get worse. But they never get worst."
They didn't share the customary chuckle They always shared when They made that joke.
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"There's still children on the Nice list, you know."
"But do the first world countries still believe in us?"
"Small pockets of them, yes."
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. At last, They had walked enough. They blinked into a clearing in the middle of the forest. There was no reason for a clearing to exist, but it did, out of deference for the august occasion that was visiting them.
In order of age, They were the Tooth Fairy, who takes away the lost teeth of the young, and watches the growth of the new, and teaches the very grown up task of managing small pieces of money responsibly. They were also the Easter Bunny, who represents new life, who represents new hope, and who occasionally speeds the loss of teeth. They were also the youngest, the Saint Nicholas, the Father of Christmas, the Kris Kringle.
"My friends," she hesitated. "I'm leaving."
"No!" said the bearded man.
"How?" asked the rabbit, quizzically.
"I'm going back to my enchanted fairy palace," she replied. "And then I'm going to shut the doors and never come back out again."
"What will we do without you?" asked Santa.
"Oh, don't be silly. You'll keep to your special days. You'll hardly notice I'm gone!" she trilled.
"But you're the one who reminds them the magic is still there everyday," pressed Santa.
"And what do I tell them? That little by little, they will keep losing what it is that makes them so small and precious and still human? That every day, they become more like..." she sobbed.
The Easter Bunny raised his eyebrow. "You think your services are just bringing them closer to the Spire humans?"
The Spire humans were a new breed of the ultra-rich. They lived, of course, in silver spires. The Spire humans claimed it was because they wanted to be up where the air was healthy, but of course it was all damaging. Spire humans just wanted to be up where everyone could see them. So everyone saw them in their bodies that never really died, how the hair never really fell out, just became poisonous to normal people, how the teeth never fell out, just sharpened and elongated. They were the ultimate in humanity. They were the ultimate inhumanity.
"I know so," replied the Tooth Fairy hotly. "Just being a child isn't really an option on this planet anymore. Anyone who can walk, is employed by a Spire human. Having child's teeth is the only thing that defines a child as a child now. And I can't bear to be the one responsible for taking that away from them any more."
"What are you going to do?" asked Santa, gravely.
"I'm going to work on a cure."
"For society?" asked the rabbit.
"I'm not the only one who knows science here, mr. bunny!"
The rabbit flinched as if struck. The fairy instantly recovered her cool.
"I'm sorry, rabbit. That was uncalled for."
The rabbit turned away. "I'm leaving, too."
"Why?" cried the fairy, aghast.
"Because. Kids are just getting more greedy. They know I'm not allowed to distinguish between good and bad. I'm just as likely to give the good eggs away to a bad-egg Spirer. The only one they even halfway respect is you, and you seem to sell a lot more merchandise than I do in the marketplaces, Santa."
"So you're just going to leave?" asked Nicholas.
"Its easier for us than it is for you. My island will just vanish into the seas. The fairy's palace has always been off-world. You're the only one with his own team of assembly-line workers and factories," the rabbit replied, reproachfully.
"So what do I do?" complained Nicholas.
The rabbit drew himself onto his hind legs. "Look. It won't be so bad. Just keep doing what you've always done. Encourage people to be 'nice' to eachother. Make people think about their actions. Deliver the presents on Christmas. Maybe shift some focus back to the other guy if you're feeling optimistic. If it works out, you were right about humans not being so bad, you can contact us, we'll come back. If it doesn't, well, contact us."
"But I'll miss you."
"I know, Nik-nik."
The rabbit laid a paw on Nik's chest just below his shoulder.
"I'd say something sentimental about us always being inside you, but that isn't the case, and we know it. But we're rooting for ya, buddy."
He faded from view. The tooth fairy had disappeared quietly during their conversation. Of the three, she was best at it, because she practised every night of the year.
He was trudging through a forest. There wasn't any need to trudge through the forest. He could easily teleport from one forest to the end of the world. He could teleport all the way to the moon. But sometimes, He preferred to walk.
Nik's body accelerated, and his mind lurched forward.
Things hadn't gone to plan. He'd thought he'd had a breakthrough. They'd all behaved so well. So he'd cut back on material presents the next year, deciding instead he'd spread more "joy", and "fellow-feeling", and "kindness". The results had been more theft, more usury, more sadistic abuse of man by fellow man than he had seen in hundreds of years. But he'd had one breakthrough. The obese, wart-ridden son of the President had been swayed, ever so slightly. A boy who would never know the real horrors of aging, a boy who had never lost his own teeth or eaten organic food, had felt the need to write Santa a letter. And he was the only one. There were those toadies, of course. The ones hoping for the even bigger pony next year, but this was the only real, true, genuine article. So he'd abandoned Christmas. He'd put the Elves to work building a bigger sleigh. This one, he'd said, would need to be a spaceship. The Elves had laughed at first, then they'd worked hard. But one by one, they'd realised he was serious about skipping christmas. None of them left him, they were too loyal. None of them stopped work, either. But in the end, he'd walked into the foundry floor and seen only Keeble, the insane, rambling, crippled Elf, putting the finishing touches on the ship. He'd asked Keeble - "Where are your family, little Elf?" and he'd laughed, and shrugged. "Where are your friends, little Elf?" he'd laughed a little, quieter this time, and shrugged. "Where is Mrs. Claus, little Elf?" he'd wailed, and beaten himself about the face, and he'd decided at last he didn't want to know.
His mind trawled through six thousand years of events, culminating in the wormhole. He was Nik Claus, a human, deep in space, in the service of the United States Government.
He was Santa Claus, a purely magical being of superstition and whimsy. He'd ignored time dropping by, second by second. He'd convinced himself he needed things like food, and sleep, and brandy. He believed that it was coincidence that his baton had changed colours and bended to look like a candy cane. He had thought there was hope. He'd imagined that he was a human.
Mind and body-analogue were fully synchronised. Nik was spewed out of the wormhole.
They were walking through a forest. There wasn't any need to walk through the forest. They could easily teleport from one end of the forest to the place where They were meeting. They could have a meeting on the moon, and They could teleport there too. But sometimes, They preferred to walk.
"Are you worried?"
"About what?"
"Just... worried."
"No."
They walked on in silence.
"Its just..."
"Things are always getting worse. Things always get worse. But they never get worst."
They didn't share the customary chuckle They always shared when They made that joke.
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"There's still children on the Nice list, you know."
"But do the first world countries still believe in us?"
"Small pockets of them, yes."
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. At last, They had walked enough. They blinked into a clearing in the middle of the forest. There was no reason for a clearing to exist, but it did, out of deference for the august occasion that was visiting them.
In order of age, They were the Tooth Fairy, who takes away the lost teeth of the young, and watches the growth of the new, and teaches the very grown up task of managing small pieces of money responsibly. They were also the Easter Bunny, who represents new life, who represents new hope, and who occasionally speeds the loss of teeth. They were also the youngest, the Saint Nicholas, the Father of Christmas, the Kris Kringle.
"My friends," she hesitated. "I'm leaving."
"No!" said the bearded man.
"How?" asked the rabbit, quizzically.
"I'm going back to my enchanted fairy palace," she replied. "And then I'm going to shut the doors and never come back out again."
"What will we do without you?" asked Santa.
"Oh, don't be silly. You'll keep to your special days. You'll hardly notice I'm gone!" she trilled.
"But you're the one who reminds them the magic is still there everyday," pressed Santa.
"And what do I tell them? That little by little, they will keep losing what it is that makes them so small and precious and still human? That every day, they become more like..." she sobbed.
The Easter Bunny raised his eyebrow. "You think your services are just bringing them closer to the Spire humans?"
The Spire humans were a new breed of the ultra-rich. They lived, of course, in silver spires. The Spire humans claimed it was because they wanted to be up where the air was healthy, but of course it was all damaging. Spire humans just wanted to be up where everyone could see them. So everyone saw them in their bodies that never really died, how the hair never really fell out, just became poisonous to normal people, how the teeth never fell out, just sharpened and elongated. They were the ultimate in humanity. They were the ultimate inhumanity.
"I know so," replied the Tooth Fairy hotly. "Just being a child isn't really an option on this planet anymore. Anyone who can walk, is employed by a Spire human. Having child's teeth is the only thing that defines a child as a child now. And I can't bear to be the one responsible for taking that away from them any more."
"What are you going to do?" asked Santa, gravely.
"I'm going to work on a cure."
"For society?" asked the rabbit.
"I'm not the only one who knows science here, mr. bunny!"
The rabbit flinched as if struck. The fairy instantly recovered her cool.
"I'm sorry, rabbit. That was uncalled for."
The rabbit turned away. "I'm leaving, too."
"Why?" cried the fairy, aghast.
"Because. Kids are just getting more greedy. They know I'm not allowed to distinguish between good and bad. I'm just as likely to give the good eggs away to a bad-egg Spirer. The only one they even halfway respect is you, and you seem to sell a lot more merchandise than I do in the marketplaces, Santa."
"So you're just going to leave?" asked Nicholas.
"Its easier for us than it is for you. My island will just vanish into the seas. The fairy's palace has always been off-world. You're the only one with his own team of assembly-line workers and factories," the rabbit replied, reproachfully.
"So what do I do?" complained Nicholas.
The rabbit drew himself onto his hind legs. "Look. It won't be so bad. Just keep doing what you've always done. Encourage people to be 'nice' to eachother. Make people think about their actions. Deliver the presents on Christmas. Maybe shift some focus back to the other guy if you're feeling optimistic. If it works out, you were right about humans not being so bad, you can contact us, we'll come back. If it doesn't, well, contact us."
"But I'll miss you."
"I know, Nik-nik."
The rabbit laid a paw on Nik's chest just below his shoulder.
"I'd say something sentimental about us always being inside you, but that isn't the case, and we know it. But we're rooting for ya, buddy."
He faded from view. The tooth fairy had disappeared quietly during their conversation. Of the three, she was best at it, because she practised every night of the year.
He was trudging through a forest. There wasn't any need to trudge through the forest. He could easily teleport from one forest to the end of the world. He could teleport all the way to the moon. But sometimes, He preferred to walk.
Nik's body accelerated, and his mind lurched forward.
Things hadn't gone to plan. He'd thought he'd had a breakthrough. They'd all behaved so well. So he'd cut back on material presents the next year, deciding instead he'd spread more "joy", and "fellow-feeling", and "kindness". The results had been more theft, more usury, more sadistic abuse of man by fellow man than he had seen in hundreds of years. But he'd had one breakthrough. The obese, wart-ridden son of the President had been swayed, ever so slightly. A boy who would never know the real horrors of aging, a boy who had never lost his own teeth or eaten organic food, had felt the need to write Santa a letter. And he was the only one. There were those toadies, of course. The ones hoping for the even bigger pony next year, but this was the only real, true, genuine article. So he'd abandoned Christmas. He'd put the Elves to work building a bigger sleigh. This one, he'd said, would need to be a spaceship. The Elves had laughed at first, then they'd worked hard. But one by one, they'd realised he was serious about skipping christmas. None of them left him, they were too loyal. None of them stopped work, either. But in the end, he'd walked into the foundry floor and seen only Keeble, the insane, rambling, crippled Elf, putting the finishing touches on the ship. He'd asked Keeble - "Where are your family, little Elf?" and he'd laughed, and shrugged. "Where are your friends, little Elf?" he'd laughed a little, quieter this time, and shrugged. "Where is Mrs. Claus, little Elf?" he'd wailed, and beaten himself about the face, and he'd decided at last he didn't want to know.
His mind trawled through six thousand years of events, culminating in the wormhole. He was Nik Claus, a human, deep in space, in the service of the United States Government.
He was Santa Claus, a purely magical being of superstition and whimsy. He'd ignored time dropping by, second by second. He'd convinced himself he needed things like food, and sleep, and brandy. He believed that it was coincidence that his baton had changed colours and bended to look like a candy cane. He had thought there was hope. He'd imagined that he was a human.
Mind and body-analogue were fully synchronised. Nik was spewed out of the wormhole.