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Night was perpetual.
There were stars but no Northern Lights. Claus had spent the majority of his life living on the ice. The cold was his companion, the snow warmed his heart. But without the elven, without his wife, it was just a lonely sky.
The hardest part was the unknown.
How was Jessica handling his absence? Were the reindeer safe? These were the things he pondered, occasionally nodding off into dreamless sleep. Time limped along, wounded and sore.
And then the lights went out.
The stars, the moon, the village and valley flickered out. Darkness was all around. Claus waited.
“Are you comfortable?” Her voice echoed from the dark.
The room was filled with the crackle of the fire. Claus remained still. Nothing moved. The silence stretched into minutes. Perhaps he imagined her voice; the conversation was just a dream. Sometimes he wondered if any of this was real.
A latch gave way.
The outline of a doorway seemed to hover in the dark. Gray light spilled into the room. The sound of rustling fabric preceded a cloaked figure.
She stepped into the opening with a pink little dog in each arm, each with a ribbon around their necks like squirming Christmas presents.
“Come.” She stepped aside.
He hesitated. This could be a trick. The doorway could be another illusion. That wasn’t another world out there, just more projections. But something was different this time.
It smelled alive.
The dogs growled as he stood up. Cautiously, he approached. The doorway seemed so far away. He stopped just short of it and reached out. When his hand didn’t bump into an illusion, he stepped through it.
The earth was beneath his boots.
Greenery was all around. The moon was above, the sky an untouchable ceiling. The air was humid on his face and sweet in his nostrils. He gulped another breath and held it. The stars were bright and numerous. They used to guide him on the seas when he was a young man. They were his map when the reindeer soared above the clouds.
Now they were so far away.
“They can’t see you.” Her voice was dampened and distant. “The island is virtually invisible.”
A slight glow was deep inside the hood, like embers in a dying fire. The dogs bared their teeth. He wondered if that was really her. The room had warped his senses, made him doubt what he was seeing and hearing.
“Lose the coat, Nicholas. You don’t need it anymore. Lose the hat and boots and the gloves and scarf... all of it.”
She squeezed the dogs. Her hands were hidden in gray gloves. Her clothing appeared thicker than his.
“You won’t be the jolly fat man for long. You’re going to be the happy skinny man, Nicholas. Haven’t you heard, there’s an obesity epidemic. You don’t smoke that pipe anymore, so why not shed the weight.”
He’d never smoked. The image of him sucking on a corncob pipe was fabricated by calendar makers and storytellers.
“The kids are going to love the new and improved Santa Claus. Imagine a festive overcoat and a stylish cap without all those whiskers hiding that handsome face. Come along.” She pointed at a vehicle. “We have a lot to see.”
He opened the coat. He was already heavy with heat and exhaustion. A drop of sweat trickled to the end of his bulbous nose.
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather walk.”
She considered his request while massaging her little dogs with fingers and thumbs, then took the lead around the glassy tower. The cloak swept the ground. Occasionally, her toes would slip past the hem.
They were as red as his coat.
***
HE WAS QUICKLY OUT of breath.
The air was so thick and humid and his boots so heavy. He stripped off the coat and folded it over his arm. They walked for several minutes before stopping. A building was nestled in trees and covered in lights. She described it as a dormitory. The next stop was a library then a cafeteria and even a nursery.
“We’re very child-oriented,” she said.
“Why?”
“Nicholas, you of all people should understand—”
“Why are you showing me this?”
She chuckled sweetly. Briefly, a light brightened the inside of the cowl. “Isn’t it obvious?”
This was an empty village waiting to be filled. She was selling him an idea. He was going to be the happy skinny man. He didn’t need the whiskers, he needed to be cool.
This is for the elven.
She continued her stroll down a very narrow path. Every once in a while, she would look behind them. She finally put the dogs down and scratched their chins. He expected them to gnaw on his pant leg. Instead, they scurried into the trees. They would be nothing more than a snack to something that lived in a jungle.
They rounded the next corner to the sound of brass horns and jingle bells. Thankfully, the only reindeer with jingling bells were mechanical ones. Candy canes led to a giant set of doors. A train looped in circles around a sand sculpture of Claus on his throne and children gathered around with presents and candy. The conductor was a mechanical elven waving out the window.
“Surprise!”
Her gloves were thick enough to suit a welder. When she took his hands, her hands were hot as coals. He could see the faint outline of her chin, the structure of her cheeks. And an eerie glow.
The hangar doors popped open and began to slide apart. A cold gust of air wheezed through the burgeoning crack. Specks of confetti flew out. There was singing. It was a group of distinctive voices that Claus had known most of his life. He shivered.
An elven’s voice was unmistakable.
She strode into the widening doorway with arms thrown open, hooking her arm through his when he didn’t follow. Confetti stuck to his face and melted.
Snow.
A full-blown snowstorm was inside the building with snowflakes so big he couldn’t see the ceiling. They piled up in thick blankets. Claus felt his boots adjust to ice, the soles extending short spikes to keep from slipping. There were conveyors and stampers and haulers and handlers and stickers and packers and folders in aisles and rows and boxes. Gears were grinding and hydraulics wheezing. Gift wrapping and bows and shiny paper and gifts of all colors and sizes.
“Welcome to the new North Pole!”
Something beamed bright and happy inside the deep cowl. A halo hovered around her. He couldn’t quite understand what it was until he noticed the puddle around her feet.
The snowflakes were melting around her.
“Don’t say anything,” she said. “Not a word. Just soak it in.”
Platforms hovered above them; skyboxes were somewhere near the ceiling with black windows overlooking the floor. And beneath the industrial grind of mechanical production, the song continued.
Santa Claus is coming to town...
“The world’s greatest fabricator. We can double the North Pole’s production, Nicholas. Just imagine, double stacks of presents all over the world. We’re taking Christmas to a whole new level.”
The snow had piled up. His boots were specially crafted, the soles outfitted with nonslip grippers that would slide forward if he pushed ahead and grab the ice when he stopped. He could easily outpace her, but where would he go? This was beyond what he thought possible. And he was Santa Claus.
She brought the North Pole inside.
She wanted to move them to this island. The ice was melting, she had said. They would be discovered on the North Pole and she was just trying to help. This was what she was talking about. It was all about this.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” he said.
“Pardon?”
“You could have come to us. We could have sat down and discussed what you’re doing. My wife is worried; the elven are frightened. They don’t know where I am, if I’m safe, or what happened. The pain you’ve caused, all for this. It could have been avoided if you’d just reached out and asked.”
Her arms slowly lowered. “I did ask.”
The smell of smoke cut through the cold air. A wisp of fog escaped her sleeves and oozed from the brightening cowl.
“You ignored me, Nicholas. I sent letter after letter after letter and they ended up on the slush pile with all the others. You didn’t think I was serious, you didn’t believe me. You didn’t listen!”
A puddle grew around her.
“You thought I was just another needy one of them that wanted something from you when I was trying to help you, Nicholas. I’m trying to help you and you didn’t listen! Do you hear me now? Do you understand? This is not a negotiation. This has to happen and I’ve explained why; it is all very plain and simple. You are moving here. You and all the little ones are coming to Christmas Island.”
A wave of heat pushed against him. A sheet of rain turned the snow to slush. Steam rose from the floor.
“This is a place of happiness, of giving,” she said super sweetly. “Don’t you see? All the effort I’ve made and your having to think about it is a little insulting, Nicholas. A little bit. I’m trying to help you off that melting ice cap; I’m offering you my home to make this world a better place!”
She turned around. Her back to him, smoke hissed from beneath the cloak. She took a deep breath. It sounded like steam escaping a boiler.
The rain stopped and the snowflakes resumed. The puddle was beginning to freeze around his boots.
When she faced him, the light inside the cowl had dimmed. A few wisps of smoke curled out of her sleeves. A trace of sulfur was in the air.
“I’ll come back for you in a few days. You will stay here and explore till your heart is bursting with contentment, do you understand? You will keep an open mind and think of the world. Think of your family. Think of all the children who are counting on you.”
The dogs came running toward them, tongues dragging. Their paws were dirty. They bounded through the deep snow. She swept them up and squeezed them tight. They sort of purred like cats.
“Don’t try to escape,” she said. “There are things on the island we can talk about later.”
Snow was blowing through the wide-open doors and melting before hitting the ground. The train passed the opening, the mechanical elven waving. Her footsteps squished with each step. Holes in the ice appeared from beneath her cloak.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “you won’t be lonely.”
Her laughter could be heard over the closing doors. Behind him, the song grew louder. The voices chorused in harmony. What he had previous mistaken for overhead conveyors had turned to icy belts, and down them, one by one, fat little elven slid. Their mouths were open as they sang their song with big round bellies and thick beards. Their bare feet, large as paddles, expertly guided them down the ramps.
Hundreds of them weaved together and around the floor, their voices rising above the clatter. This was how the island had been built. This was how she’d done it. But where did they come from? These were exactly like his family except for one decisive difference.
They aren’t elven.