I figured I would resurrect my science fiction Christmas story since I hadn't read or posted it in a while. So, in an homage to my favorite science fiction writer, Ray Bradbury, here is Do Reindeer Fly In Space?
Fun fact, the title is a shout out to Philip K Dick, another one of my favorites, who wrote Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.
Here it is. Hope you enjoy. Merry Christmas.
Do
Reindeer Fly in Space?
by Carey Torgesen
December 8, 3013
Holly Shepard gazed out of the window counting stars
silently, her eyes reflecting the sparkle from a nearby sun. From behind her,
the clanging of pots and pans woke her from her reverie. She blinked rapidly,
then turned around and watched absentmindedly as her mom cleaned the dishes.
“There’s the automatic clean cabinet for that, dear.” Mr.
Shepard wrapped his arms around Mrs. Shepard and nuzzled her neck.
“Oh, I know, but I still like doing things the old-fashioned
way.” Her brown curls fell across her shoulder as she kissed him lightly on the
cheek and resumed her self-mandated chore.
“Hey kiddo, whatcha doing?” Mr. Shepard scuttled over to
the table where Holly sat drawing doodles on her holographic workpad with her
index finger.
“Umm, trying to come up with some sort of myth to research.
And I can’t find anything good. Everyone took the good ones.” Holly’s bottom
lip stuck out.
“How about Zeus?”
“Taken.”
Mr. Shepard furrowed his brow. “What about the boogeyman?”
“Dad,” Holly said in a singsong voice.
“Okay? What about Isis? Hera?” His eyes widened and he
snapped his fingers. “I got it! The tooth fairy!”
Holly sighed. “Dad. No. No. And Puhlease.”
“Well, sorry kiddo. Looks like you’re outta luck. Your good
ol’ Dad is tapped out of ideas. I guess your thirteen-year-old mind is gonna
have to go it alone.” Mr. Shepard ruffled Holly’s hair again, and headed to the
sleep quarters.
“Mom? Can I head down to the data library? Maybe I can find
something there.”
“Sure, hon. Just be back before the night sensors go on.”
Holly closed her pad and made her way toward the learning
quarters. Why had Mr. Camden made such a big deal about this assignment? Who
cared about silly old myths? After all, they were long forgotten for a reason.
But still, if she was going to have to do this lame assignment, she wanted hers
to be “oh my gosh I’ve never heard that myth before, it’s incredible” so her
peers would be impressed. She had to be the best. She had to be noticed.
Because it was always Holly who was forgotten.
When all the kids shared what they did over New Moon break,
Mr. Camden skipped right over her. When everyone had to get a partner for the
gravitational pull experiment in science, Holly was the one who had to go ask
Ms. Cooper to assign her to a group because everyone had already paired up. Not
to mention, being one of the only “One Born” kids on the entire space ship was
not just mildly embarrassing, it was downright awful. So this assignment had to
be good. No, scratch that. This assignment had to make miracles happen. Sadly,
Holly had lost faith in miracles. To her, they were just another myth people
talked fondly about.
Pressing her fingerprint into the scanner, she waited for
the alarm system to disengage so the door would slide open. After the familiar whoosh of the door, Holly stepped
inside, holding her breath as she made her way to the back of the room. The
initial shock from the smell of the dingy past always turned her stomach. But
once she got acclimated after a minute or two, the smell was tolerable. In this
room, among the digital libraries and the electronic artwork displays, they
held on to relics from yesteryear. She followed the smell, old wood and must,
to the very back where shelves and shelves of hard backed paper bound by glue
and time huddled together. Books, they had called them.
Holly stood on her tippy toes, attempting to stand as tall
as she could in order to read the words in gilded gold and black ink on each of
the bindings. The Pearl. Gulliver’s Travels. 1984. Frankenstein. Words
she’d never heard before danced before her. What was an Othello? And why would someone spend however many pages there were
talking about one?
She walked along the wall, brushing her fingers along every
shelf until she found one that seemed to be different from the rest. The words,
scrawled in metallic red, almost gleamed at her, as if calling out to her.
“Twas the Night
Before Christmas,” she read. She turned her head to the side and examined
the words, trying to glean meaning. “The night before what?” she asked herself
aloud.
She pulled at the book, making sure the stacks of books on
top of it didn’t collapse in a heap of destruction. The front of the book was
golden with a picture of some old man in a weird red outfit. His cheeks were
way too pink and he was way too close to a burning fire to be believable.
“This is a myth if I’ve ever seen one.” Holly laughed to
herself. Sliding onto the floor, she crossed her legs crisscross style and
opened the book, the binding cracking as she did so.
Turning the pages, she read as a poem seemed to progress
from just words to a story. A man, whose sole purpose was to bring to children
all over what it was they longed for most. And these kids, they asked for
things and got them, just like that. It seemed absurd. And kind of ridiculous.
The idea of wanting something was hard to fathom. Nobody wanted anything
anymore. They all had what they needed. And if something wasn’t needed, then
why would you want it?
Holly thought and thought about what she would “want” if
she could ask for it. Thing was, the only thing she wanted, the only thing that
mattered, was to be noticed. Ever since she could remember, she never felt like
people saw her. Even her parents were too busy with their own lives to see
Holly. So, if there was this guy, and he could deliver anything people wanted,
how would he deliver noticing? It
wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you could wrap in a tidy package presented
with a shiny bow.
Holly closed the book and held it to her chest. She had
found her myth.
###
December 9, 3013
“So, I think I know what I’m doing my assignment on,” Holly
mentioned while scooping up her eggs and bacon with a slice of toast.
“That’s nice dear.” Mrs. Shepard relaxed in the massage
chair and closed her eyes, sighing contentedly every so often.
Just then, Mr. Shepard walked into the kitchenette, folder
in hand, dressed in his work uniform. “Hey there, kiddo. Morning.” He pinched
her cheek and gave a quick kiss to her mom, waved to them both, then disappeared
into the transporter.
When she got to school, she looked around and watched as all
her classmates buzzed about their chosen myth. The best ones had been taken.
And here she was, book in hand, with some obscure thing no one had ever heard
of.
At lunch, she joined Jackson, her one and only friend she’d
had since her First-Year class, and laid the book on the table in front of him.
“What’s this?” He mumbled with a full mouth of hash.
“It’s my myth. It’s about a thing called Christmas.” She
anchored her hair behind her ear and pointed to the man on the cover, “And that
guy there? His name is Saint Nick. Also called Santa Claus.”
Jackson’s blond eyebrow arched almost completely covered by
his floppy bangs. “What is a who now?”
“It’s this guy,” she opened the book and shuffled to a page
where it showed Saint Nick with a bag full of gifts, one in his hand which he
was placing under a green tree filled with lights and baubles of all kinds.
“And he delivers to people what they want. Things they’ve wished for all year
long.”
Jackson’s face wrinkled, his lip curling. “What? What would
a person wish for?”
“I don’t know,” Holly said innocently, “What would you wish
for if you could have anything?”
Jackson’s face went blank. A few minutes later, he
shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’d want some playing cards.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know,” Jackson shrugged, “I’ve seen them in some
of the digital catalogs from a long time ago. People used to play games with
them. They looked kinda cool. I guess if I could have anything, I’d wish for a
pack of playing cards.”
Jackson stood up, and motioned for the mechanical cleanup
crew to take his plate and utensils. “Well, I gotta head to Ms. Clemson’s
history class. See ya later, Holly.”
###
That night, after thoroughly researching just exactly what
playing cards were, Holly hunted through the surplus quarters and found a ream
of paper and some wax coloring tools and stayed up half the night fashioning a
set of playing cards to give to Jackson.
What if this myth, this Christmas, was resurrected? What if
for her assignment, she brought it back? Holly smiled at the thought of making
Jackson smile. Her heart warmed at the very idea of anonymously giving her one
true friend, the thing he wished for.
###
December 10, 3013
Pushing through the throng of kids, Holly peered over a
shoulder to see what the commotion was about. There, on the table, wrapped in
gold leaf paper, was a small box adorned with a card which read: To Jackson, From:
Saint Nick.
Holly beamed. Jackson sat at his desk looking around. His
eyes met Holly’s and she winked knowingly. He looked back down at the box, a
goofy grin pasted on his face, picked up the gift and carefully peeled back the
paper bit by bit. Holly tried to stand higher and higher on the balls of her
feet with each agonizingly slow rip. She chewed on her upper lip. He was purposely
going this slow just to tease her.
Opening the box, Jackson gasped as he pulled out the stack
of paper, each one decorated by hand with numbers and shapes: hearts, clubs,
diamonds, and spades.
“What is that?” One chubby kid asked in a high-pitched
squeal.
“I don’t believe it! They’re playing cards.”
“What do you do with them?” Another kid asked.
Jackson shrugged. “You play with them, games and stuff.”
“What kind of games?” Someone else from the back asked.
“I don’t know exactly, but I guess I’ll research and find
out.”
“Cool,” the chubby kid said.
In minutes, the crowd had dispersed. Holly just stood
there, hands wrapped in one another, staring at her shoes. “So, you like them,
then?”
“Like them? They’re awesome, Holly. Thanks.”
“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t give them to you,” Holly
said matter of factly.
“What? Yes you did. The conversation we had at lunch? Now I
have the thing I said I wished for? Please. I know it was you.”
“Hey, I’m just saying Saint Nick knows all. And he probably
knew you wanted those. Thank him.” Holly smiled.
“Ok, yeah. Sure. Saint Nick.”
###
December 11, 3013
“Holly Shepard. You’re up.” Mr. Camden stood by his desk,
his auburn hair neat and tidy, and motioned for her to stand up and head to the
front of the class.
Holly nervously stood, held the book close to her heart
where it had burrowed in and taken a hold, and shuffled to the front, feeling
everyone’s eyes on her. She wanted to be noticed, but not in the “we’re all
watching and judging you” kind of way.
She stopped, turned, and bit her upper lip; her cheeks reddened
and her heart raced.
“We’re ready when you are, Holly,” said Mr. Camden.
Really? Because Holly would never be ready.
“So, my myth is about a tradition from the old days, back
on a place called Earth.” She stopped, glanced over at Mr. Camden searching for
some reaction. But he just stood there, aloof, stoic as always.
“Uh,” she continued, “So, the myth goes that there’s this
man who lives in a place called the North Pole, and all year long he watches
all the boys and girls on Earth and taking notes on if they are naughty or well
behaved. Then, every year, on December 24th, he would ride in a sleigh pulled
by animals called reindeer, and they would fly him all over the place. And he
would bring gifts to everyone. He would give them what they wished for most.
And the next morning, everyone wakes up and opens their gifts and spend time
together.”
Holly looked over at Mr. Camden again hoping she’d said
enough. Judging by his confused expression, she guessed she hadn’t. “Ok, then.
Anyone have questions for Holly?”
Every hand in the room shot up and Holly shrunk back in
fear. She didn’t quite know what to do. She pursed her lips and called on the
kid in the front row, his name was Willum she remembered.
“So, you’re saying this guy flew with animals…in the sky?
And gave every person on Earth gifts?” Willum laughed uncontrollably. “That’s
the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The classroom erupted in laughter.
“It is not!” Holly yelled. “It’s sweet and kind. It’s about
people giving to one another because they care about them. It’s about love and
hope and family. It’s about being together. And being noticed.” Holly barely
felt the tears rolling down her cheek, but she knew they were there. Her mouth
tightened and she glared at Mr. Camden who stood there like a statue, not doing
anything.
Holly booked out of the room, ran down the hall and into
the nurse’s office. Feigning illness, she asked to go home. When her parents
got home, she stayed in her bed with the covers drawn. She never wanted to go
back there again.
###
December 12, 3013
Holly decided to stay home from school. She remained in her
bed all day long, reading ‘Twas The Night
Before Christmas from cover to cover, repeatedly.
###
December 15, 3013
Holly woke up, and got ready for school. She got dressed in
her school uniform like she did every day. She wrapped a red ribbon around her
ebony locks like she did every day. And she ate breakfast—toast, eggs, and bacon—like
she did every day.
But when she got to school, Holly saw something she did not
see every day. As she entered Mr. Camden’s class, there, on three desks, were
gifts wrapped in gold leaf paper adorned with red bows. Each had a tag labeled
with someone’s name (Lily, Brutus, and Geoffrey) and all said From: Saint Nick.
Holly’s stomach tightened. Was this some kind of mean joke?
Were they taunting her? Making fun of something she suddenly held so dear? And
why didn’t Mr. Camden do something about it?
Red faced, Holly clenched her fists and marched to her seat
and sunk down in the chair. She would not let them get to her.
But to her surprise, Lily, Brutus, and Geoffrey ran to
their desks, shredding the paper and tearing into the gifts. One was a pencil
set. One was a bracelet made out of odd knick knacks, and one was a set of
magnets. Each child held their gift in their hands and beamed, sheepishly
looking around trying to figure out who had given them the lovely surprises.
And something else was different too. When a few kids
walked by Holly’s desk, they smiled at her and said “hello”.
Was the Christmas myth spreading?
###
December 16, 3013
Holly’s jaw dropped when she walked in to Mr. Camden’s
class. On every single desk, including Mr. Camden’s, lay a bright red and white
striped cane smelling of peppermint, ornamented with a ribbon. They all had a
tag which said: From Saint Nick.
###
December 17, 3013
Walking with Jackson through the halls to the lunch
quarters, Holly noticed a strange smell. It was sweet with hints of cinnamon.
She didn’t know quite what to make of it until they turned the corner. Right
there, in the middle of the lunchroom, on a table, was the most beautiful array
of gingerbread houses. It was an entire city made of gingerbread. Or at least
what Holly imagined a city might look like. She’d only seen them in the history
films.
Candy crusted walls, brick and mortar made of chocolate
bars and icing, it was more breathtaking then Holly could have ever dreamed. It
looked exactly like one of the pages in ‘Twas
the Night Before Christmas. A Christmas miracle was happening.
###
December 18, 3013
Holly jumped out of bed, eagerly throwing on her school
uniform. Barely sweeping a brush through her hair, even forgetting the red
ribbon which usually held her locks, she flew into the kitchen, stuffed the
toast and eggs in her mouth, and rushed out the door. She wondered what today
would bring. Each day bested the one previous. What would she see today? People
dressed like elves? Mistletoe? Stockings hung by imaginary mantles?
With long strides she hurried through the hall, her head
whipping from side to side waiting to be shocked and surprised by some new
thrill of Christmas cheer.
But her hopes sunk lower and lower the closer she came to
the classroom. Nothing was new. Nothing had changed. Her pace slowed, and her
smile vanished.
“It couldn’t last forever,” she said to herself.
She reached for the scanner to open the classroom door when
she heard something coming from the other side. She lowered her hand, cocked
her head to the side, and leaned in, trying to identify what it was exactly.
Something like…music. She leaned in closer. Singing. It was definitely singing.
And it wasn’t just one person. It was a group of people. A large group of
people.
She grinned as she scanned her finger and the door opened.
“Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright.”
Everyone in the class was in a circle hovering around a holographic piano which
played a tune. And they were all singing. Mr. Camden looked over at Holly,
smiled brightly, and walked over to her, placing a piece of paper in her hand.
She looked down at the paper and noticed words. Lyrics, she thought.
Holly squeezed in next to Willum, who turned and nodded,
and she started singing with them.
###
December 19, 3013
Holly walked through the hallway to class with Jackson.
They marveled as day by day, the space ship, once cold and gray, transformed
into a living, breathing Christmas postcard. The walls were covered in gold
leaf paper, bells hung intermittently from the steel rafters, and hundreds of
twinkling lights raced and sparkled in random patterns reflecting off the shiny
floor giving the ship a candlelit glow. Holly’s heart swelled with pride and
happiness.
###
December 22, 3013
A loud click was heard over the intercom, followed by some
static and then a voice. “Good morning, fellow citizens, do we have a treat for
you. Would all citizens on the C Deck come and meet in the commons. Would all
people on the C Deck please report to the commons. Thank you.”
“I wonder what’s going on?” Mr. Shepard said, his work
folder in his hand. He’d almost missed the announcement by being in the
transporter.
“I’m not sure, but we’d better hurry up. It must be
important,” Mrs. Shepard tidied her hair and put on her heels.
Holly followed her parents’ fast clip, making their way
past the halls and lunch quarters to the Great Common Room. Once there, the
large room was already packed with people, all crowding around the stage area,
where the President and captain of the Infinity Starship stood. She tapped the
clear computer screen in front of her and her image projected large and three
dimensional above everyone’s heads.
“Good morning all, I know this is quite unprecedented. But
it has come to my attention that certain things have been occurring on this
ship lately. Cookie houses, carols, gifts, traditions of a generation long
since passed. At first, I grew concerned with this sudden interest in
traditions which really have no place here anymore. But I ignored it, hoping it
would go away. But, it didn’t. Instead it became a contagion, spreading. I
intended on immediately putting a stop to it because some old traditions can be
dangerous. But then I noticed something. The people around me, smiled more. I heard
laughing more often. And people generally seemed to be listening to each other
more. Reaching out. So I let it continue. Then, the other day, my son came to
me, and asked me what I would wish for if I could have anything. I told him,
the only thing I wanted was more time at home with him, his sister, and their
father.”
The President paused, sniffled, and patted her rosy cheeks.
“And the next day, he’d arranged with the Co-President, for me to have a day
off. He planned activities for us to do. For the first time in years, I spent
the entire day with my family. It was a dream come true. I realized, though we
have come far from the world of our ancestors, this tradition, Christmas it’s
called, should be brought back. So, I’m giving to you the gift I was given.
Time off from your jobs, from school, from your community responsibilities to
take care of your first responsibility, your family. So, from now on, December
24th and 25th will be holidays. And you will all be given the time to spend at
home. Merry Christmas.”
The image of the President dissolved and she waved from the
stage and blew air kisses into the audience. Everyone around Holly cheered. She
looked up at her parents, who were looking at each other, then down at her, and
then they smiled and joined hands.
Holly had never felt so happy.
###
December 23, 3013
Jackson nudged Holly. “You did this.”
“What do you mean?” Holly asked, concerned she was getting
blamed for something.
“This.” Jackson fanned out his arms, motioning toward all the
decorations and people who moved about them smiling and humming jolly holiday
tunes. Adults had now gotten into the gift giving spirit. Everyone everywhere
had arms filled with small packages, some clearly unwrapped and some on their
way to some lucky recipient. None of the gifts were extravagant. Just simple
things, given to people to in efforts to make them feel appreciated and loved.
A locket here, a paper bouquet there, and sometimes even a simple handmade
card. Thing was people were thinking about each other in a way they hadn’t
thought about others in years. Maybe even centuries.
“All I did was research a myth.” Even though a part of her
knew he was right, Holly wasn’t so bold as to take credit for such a miracle.
“You brought back Christmas. Before you, no one even knew
what Christmas was. Now, look around you Holly. It’s amazing.”
Holly fought back a wide smile. “Maybe it was Saint Nick
that brought it back.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ok. Saint Nick.” He
chuckled.
###
December 24, 3013
Holly got up and stayed in her bed clothes. She scuttled to
the kitchen and was stunned at what she saw. There, in the corner of the
kitchen which adjoined to the family quarters, was a tall man-made metallic
tree, complete with glass ornaments and a shiny gold star at the top.
Underneath the fake branches were three gifts wrapped up and arranged neatly.
Holly gasped and giggled and twirled around. From behind her she heard stifled
laughter. She turned to see her parents, still holding hands and watching Holly
gaze at the tree.
“Mom. Dad. Did you do this?” Holly skipped over to her
parents and threw her arms around them both, attempting to hold them both in one
single show of affection.
“We sure did, Holly. We wanted you to have what you wished for,”
Mr. Shepard said. “Your very own Christmas. And look,” Mr. Shepard pointed to
the book laying open on the table which had been Holly’s nightly read since the
day she’d found it. Holly looked at the open page, a tree exactly like the one
standing not two feet in front of her, and she glowed with joy.
Though it wasn’t exactly what she wished for, it was close
enough for her.
###
December 25, 3013
Holly jumped on her parents’ bed, plopping right in between
the two sleeping mounds.
“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! Time to get up and open
presents.”
With a wrinkled brow and a scowl, Mr. Shepard glared at
Holly. “Can you give us five minutes to get up and ready before you maul us?”
Mrs. Shepard grumbled.
“Fine. Just five minutes.” Holly climbed over her dad, then
hopped and skipped into the family quarters. She sat with her legs crisscrossed
and stared at the presents just wondering what they could be.
Five minutes passed and as promised, her parents had come
out, with robes over their bedclothes, and sat down. Holly grabbed each present
and read the tag aloud.
To Beverly Shepard, From: Saint Nick. She passed the gift to her mom.
To Jeremy Shepard, From: Saint Nick. She passed the gift to her dad.
Then she finally grabbed the last gift. To Holly Shepard, From: Saint Nick.
Seeing those words, with her name attached,
even though she knew very well there was no Saint Nick, made her heart skip.
She hugged the gift. She didn’t even need to open it. She could have held it
forever just as it was and it couldn’t have been any more special. Holly was
sure of that.
First Mr. Shepard opened his gift. A knitted blanket in his
favorite color, crimson.
Then Mrs. Shepard opened her gift. A new dress, a black
evening shift with gloves.
Holly hesitated. Whatever was inside wasn’t near as
important as what she had right now; time with her family. It was all she’d
ever wished for. Almost.
“Go on, Holly. Open it.” Mr. Shepard said.
Holly pulled at the paper carefully, trying to breathe in
every moment, every feeling of this day, her very first Christmas ever. Inside
the paper was a box. She lifted up the lid. Inside the box, was a journal. On
the front, in silver scrawled etching it said: Holly Joy Shepard, our One Born.
She picked it up carefully, opened it, and flipped to the first page.
July 16, 3000. Our baby girl
was born today. She is the most beautiful thing we’ve ever laid eyes on. We are
so lucky. I love our family.
Holly’s breathing hitched. It was a book. About her.
She flipped through more pages.
Today Holly lost her first tooth
and Today Holly went to her First Year class. It is very lonely around here. I
miss her. Pages and pages of events, both major and minor were all chronicled
almost daily. Holly flipped to the one of the last completed pages.
December 8th Today Holly went
down to the old data library to do some research. She seemed kind of sad. I
wish I could take away all her unhappy thoughts. I know I don’t say it much,
but Holly is the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love her so much.
A tear welled up in Holly’s eye and her throat tightened.
She clenched her jaw and stole a look at her parents. Her mother and father had
taken turns writing in the book. Some entries showcased the rounded bubble
script of her mom, some the harder, straighter lines from her dad.
She turned to the final entry. It was dated December 24,
3013. Last night. One sentence was all that was written. One sentence that said
so much.
Our amazing Holly singlehandedly
brought back Christmas.
It was at that moment, Holly realized she’d gotten exactly
what she wished for so many weeks ago. Undeniably, her parents had noticed her.
All these years. Every single day.
It was a very, Merry Christmas indeed.
So the conversation turned into talking about how just because someone looks a certain ethnicity, don't assume anything. Then I said, "Like when people ask where I'm from. Or 'What am I?' or 'What's your background.'" The people at the table looked at me. They nodded. I said, "I get asked that ALL THE TIME." They nodded. They asked me, "Wait...you don't like that? Does it make you feel uncomfortable?" And you know...I have NEVER been asked that question. And I had to think about it. And you know what? I didn't/ I don't. It DOES make me uncomfortable. It makes me feel othered. It makes me feel like and KNOW there's an obvious difference between me and them. They asked "Why?" I told them that I don't ever ask a white person that. Then I realized...WHITE PEOPLE DON'T GET ASKED THAT. And when they do, it's because of an accent or because they asked first. Usually. 
