How do the members of the Menagerie spend their time these days?
Harry Gale has been inducted into a secret family tradition.
“Usually in our business, we want to be seen, but not always, and especially not tonight,” his mother explains, while his father is changing into a bright red suit. She spared a disapproving glance over her shoulder, but her smile stayed strong anyway.
A consortium of manufacturers - of toys and games and the like, of course, but also of canned foods, clothing, and other essentials - always logged some loss. Supposedly this would be due to theft, mechanical problems at factories, and the like. But it always peaked around Christmastime. The “missing” stuff went to warehouses. Nobody who worked there will talk. They just open the doors at 11:59 and make sure not to block the path for the next hour or so. But if anyone gets wind of what’s going on, the shareholders will want an explanation. And “it’s the right thing to do” is too often unacceptable.
Harry and his parents leave the house, at speeds faster than the eye can see. They find the warehouses. Each grabs a container. It might hold food or toys, it doesn’t matter. Every package has a standard weight, with a printed address label on top.
Then, they run.
Harry is by now a veteran at vibrating through solid matter. It didn’t matter if the place had a chimney or not - he could get in. Sometimes there’s a full-blown Christmas tree, sometimes just a little mock-up of one. Sometimes there’s no tree at all, or there’s signs of other observances still up or yet to come. Not every destination is a home - some are simply streets or alleyways. It doesn’t matter.
Then back to the warehouse. Over and over, until the mountains of boxes have found their way to where they’ll do the most good.
Nobody needs to know how they got there. Nobody needs to know why. It’s enough that everyone who needs it gets something.
For Leo Newman and his family, Christmas is about rescuing a Carnival Cruise Lines ship that came under attack from Atlanteans - probably working for Commander Saito, Leo muses, wherever he got off to. He sure wishes those guys would take a holiday break.
For this one it’s all hands on deck. Minato is babysitting Fez in the Launch System’s control room, meaning Leo and Aria are clear to join their friends in the field. At least everyone’s trying to enjoy themselves.
“Deck these fish with fists of fury,” sings Otto. He’s in constant motion, grabbing hold of civilians at risk of falling off the wildly rocking boat, and in some cases saving those that do go overboard via his grapples.
“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la.” Mo doesn’t feel like improvising, but he’s fine taking up the response, which gives the others time to think up their nonsense lyrics. He’s currently working in the ship’s engine room, helping the damage-control crew get flooding under control, and patching in power from his vehicular shell.
“We are being judge and jury,” Leo joins. He’s underwater, in an all-out brawl with a dozen Atlantean operatives.
“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-la.”
“Here we are in all this peril,” Aria sings merrily. Like her husband, she’s in a fistfight with fish ninja, this time on the deck of the ship.
“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la-Fuck.” There’s sparks as the ship’s electrical systems short out, and Mo instinctively covers the human workers with his body.
“While we sing this combat carol!” finishes Summer. She’s shepherding the ship’s passengers into safer areas, and taking on rescuees from Otto.
Big Bill is overhead in his jet mode, using his grappling lines to steady the ship as a whole. There’s already Atlanteans who have started crawling up the cables. “What’s next, gang?” he asks. “I dunno the rest of the lyrics to this one.”
“Me neither,” Otto confesses. “Silent Night?”
“Silent Night,” comes a chorus of agreement from the other Newmen.
“Silent Night, violent night, all is fun, all is fight…”
Adam Amari is hosting a marathon of Christmas films.
There’s the usual holiday staples: “It’s a Wonderful Life”, “The Nutcracker”, and some variant of “A Christmas Carol”. This year it’s Bill Murray’s “Scrooged”. There’s Christmas-adjacent films like “Die Hard” and “Home Alone”. Between films, meals. During films, some light snacking.
It’s not at the Amari house, although Adam’s parents and sister join in for some of it. Adam had to reserve space for a big-screen projector, because he invited everybody.
Space Bug is here, happily munching on whatever is in reach of their four arms. Quinnar Gentry and some of his Dark Drifters are here, as well as a smattering of other Champions of Night. They sit alongside a handful of Concordance agents, from Coordinator Dentry of Perseus Schema to a few curious juniors who want to know more about this reckless rebel from Sol 3. And there’s actual captured criminals, who Adam wanted to have out of confinement at least for one night.
Some of these assembled beings are bipedal. Some resemble other animals of Earth, or have weirder shapes. Some float on their own, or exist as a sentient gas cloud, or are merely present as a psychic projection from a hyper-dimension.
The most popular offering turns out to be “Miracle on 34th Street”.
Everyone in the audience has some opinion about the courtroom scene. Many of Adam’s invitees have been on trial for something or other. The idea that someone might be motivated to defend them is new. And some of them spare a glance at young Adam, who did his best to make everyone feel welcome here, to let everyone have a moment of freedom and peace, even if it’s to participate in this weird Earth custom.
Maybe there’s something to this “holiday spirit of giving” after all.
Jason Quill and Alycia Chin are waiting out a security patrol. They’ve infiltrated an office building, performed their planned sabotage, and are now cooped up in a maintenance closet while the guards outside perform their routine sweep. The damage won’t be detected until after the holiday. Which is the point of anti-corporate espionage. The fact that it’s a Christmas gift to regular people is a point neither of them say aloud.
“Who do we have left?” Jason whispers.
Alycia consults a handheld note, with a flashlight gripped between her teeth. “Two polluters. Four exploiters of South American labor. One South African conflict diamond broker.”
She removes the flashlight and looks up. “Why?”
Jason grins in the darkness. “Just wondering if we’ll get back in time to see Babes in Toyland. Nono insisted on it.”
“I’ll pass,” Alycia scowls.
Jason shakes his head and tut-tuts. “You’ll like this one. The villain is a landlord taking advantage of a woman who works for a living. The heroes visit a Toymaker who prefers handmade to soulless automation, and who gives away gifts to needy children. There’s no magical godmothers or fairies or anything in this one - it’s working-class heroes fighting a capitalist, straight up.”
Alycia turns this over and over. “So it’s an anti-capitalist Christmas film, by the decidedly capitalist Disney corporation,” she concludes acidly. “You’re lucky I didn’t decide to raid them tonight.”
Jason winces. He’d already prepared himself for all this, but the actual conversation is still painful. “Yeah, yeah, Disney bad, but listen. Money is the most reliable way of distributing films, and it’s the film, not the capitalism, that the kids will respond to. Sometimes bad people do good things, right?”
Alycia can’t really fight Jason on this point, and Jason knows it. They’re literally in the middle of an assault on a series of corporate exploiters, committing crimes in the name of a greater social good. And from the look on her face, Jason knows Alycia knows it.
“We could still watch a Christmas movie from somewhere else,” she finally argues. “A student film, or foreign film, or something.”
“Fine,” Jason concedes. “But after Babes in Toyland.”
“We just talked about this. Why would I choose to watch this film?”
“Because we’re pirating it.”
“Well. Okay.”
Charlotte Palmer is a creature of duty.
Duty demands that she participate in Christmas festivities with her family. The thing is, she has no living family - at least, none that she’s tried to track down. Her extended family tree might still have leaves in the present day, but given the horrors of her ancestry she’s never consciously thought about pursuing the question.
If she can’t perform her duty one way, she’ll do it another. She’ll host her own party, for the family of her choosing.
The Crown Prince of Iceland has generously provided her with space, and transportation from the North American mainland for her guests. She took her time to arrange things just so, to decorate, to prepare.
She’s used Icelandic ultra-tech to construct and decorate a mansion. Light is provided by a mixture of the “sourceless glow” of Icelandic science, candles, and more conventional lamps. There is a central room, along with a kitchen, dining area, and other facilities. Even a couple of bedrooms are prepared, for anyone who loses steam before the party finishes.
The centerpiece is an enormous tree - grown natively - whose top reaches almost to the three-story height of the main room. Carefully wrapped gift boxes can be found nestled at its base. Lights wink from the tree’s decorations. No gaudy electrical lights these, but rather highly reflective baubles and ornaments. Nearby tables support food, drinks (including home-made egg nog), and speakers for an ambient Christmas soundtrack.
Who is to enjoy the fruits of all this labor? Charlotte has invited friends, both living and dead, to celebrate with her.
For the living, Charlotte wants to give a moment, not only of peace and joy, but also of sophistication and ceremony. The idea isn’t to impress people with how hard Charlotte worked - oh no. It’s to say, “you deserve to have this work done for you, at least once a year, at least tonight.” She intends to give the gift of feeling special and significant.
For the dead, it’s a moment to remember the experiences of living. The texture and sensuality of being alive, the thrill of experience, the energy of interacting with others. At their core, ghosts are memories. They carry what they’ve seen and done. But what about new things? Can a ghost receive new memories? Tonight, Charlotte will give them some.
Centuries are represented here. People who lived at the founding of America mingle with the children growing up in its most modern moment. Glasses clink in toasts. Voices raise in Christmas carols.
This is what life is about, Charlotte tells herself. Being together. Honoring the past. Enjoying the present. Making memories for the future. Forging the chain that makes up existence.
