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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 Cooper, 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 David. 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.
“We’ve all been through the same thing.” Jane put her arms around them. “We’ve all been there, trust me, Ryder. And now we’re here. We’re better people. I promise we did what was best for you.”
She hugged him. John did, too. They both clung to him and he stood there. They weren’t letting go. Soup put Ryder’s arms around them.
The nicies applauded.
The tension drained away. The drones soaked up the footage and the storybook ending. This episode brought to you by healthy conflict resolution.
“Goodbye.” Soup waved as Arf led them away. “Love you.”
The game room slowly began grinding into action. Frigid gusts of Arctic wind blasted down the aisle as everyone grabbed a place in line. Soup and Arf walked at his sides like armed guards.
“Merry Christmas!” Soup waved like a beauty queen. “Happy holidays, nothing to see here. We’re just going for a walk—holy crap!”
They ducked behind an empty dome.
“You are bonk. Woooooo!” Soup blew a steam cloud at the drones. “You’re a guaranteed star. That’s not even close to lying low, bo. I mean, getting lippy with sweet Jane is one thing, but bowing up on Kraig takes jingle bells—great big, giant ones. He’s a nicy and all, and he’s also fifty-one cards short of a full deck. He’ll eat your face, you know that, right?”
“You all right?” Arf asked.
Ryder leaned against the dome. The adrenaline crash left his legs empty. His hands finally unclenched, the joints aching.
“Sorry I said that,” Ryder said, “about your dog.”
Arf rubbed the side of his face and nodded. The scar was brighter in the cold.
“What dog?” Soup said.
Maybe the dog and the scar were related, maybe not. It didn’t matter. Ryder shouldn’t have dragged it out.
“That game they were playing,” Ryder said, “the reindeer Jane was riding, that came from my memory. That’s what I was trying to say. They pulled that out of me during introspection, and now it’s in the game room.”
“You have a memory of reindeer?”
“No, it was a—look, what are you guys doing in here? You’re going along with everything. BG is training you for something and it isn’t the Pole. There’s something in the—”
“Stress, folks.” Soup waved at the drones. The area washed in their green eyes. “He doesn’t sleep much, still new to Kringletown, so if we can just... we’ll be all right.”
Soup pulled him close and whispered, “We’re not in the bathroom, bo. So save the hate.”
“And pretend this is normal?”
Soup was a little stunned. He frowned and, maybe for the first time, looked serious and more than a little hurt. “What’re we going to do, Ryder? Get an apartment somewhere? Go get jobs and live in the city or on a farm or in the suburbs or pick your destination? We don’t have a choice. I say things about Billy, okay. I get it. But what else are we going to do? Every kid in the universe would beg to play these games, so I don’t care if he’s training us to take over the world. I’m going to have some fun, so relax a second and melt your brain.”
Ryder looked around. Soup wasn’t the only one going along with the madness. They all were, naughty and nice. No one cared. Or knew there was nothing they could do about it.
At least they would have some fun doing it.
Bradley Cooper illuminated the path and Ryder turned to leave. The wind picked up.