Pleasant salutations to you, Employee Resident #6850-D. On behalf of the Federation of Alpha Centauri Satellites and Fusion Stations, Zecron Sector Orbital Labs Core Control would like to express its sincere hope that you are enjoying your mandatory productivity cessation period in hour 15 of the traditional 47 hour cycle of all FACSFS facilities. Core Control will take this opportunity to inform you of any and all changes to station routines resulting from the upcoming Earth Simulacrum Winter Festival Celebrations.
The wind has made its path and now it wanders under my sleigh, waiting to be as it was meant to be, as it must be. As it has been before, southward it will carry me. Me and the reindeer, without passion or will, south into the homes of the unknowing elect. I am nothing and I am a jar sunk in a sea of misconceptions, filled with emptiness, then cookies, then milk. I am the Claus, but as the leaf and the lily pad I rest in namelessness. Santa was the illusion of myself and this is my Tao.
When I was 12 my father decided he wanted to make his own barbecue pit. Not a particularly handy man, my father, but industrious and always willing to learn. It's not seeing our fathers fail that hurts us, but seeing them stop trying. That's why I don't resent him now, I suppose. He got a shovel brand new and pulled the plans from a home improvement book loaned to us by our neighbor Tim Haversham. Dad started digging one Saturday morning, a piercingly sunny day like all the rays came down in a handful of concentrated beams. Not a foot down he uncovered his void, a splotch of perfect black about the size of his hand just sitting there in our back yard.
After I found myself alone in the sea that was Clarkdale I paddled on my vending machine raft with a wild bastard fire, the steam of the night effervescing into my lungs and making me an engine of soft, human mechano-chemistry. I breathed in the acrid vapor and made enough energy to glow yellow in the Arizona night. I found a current with my shining vision and rode it all the way to the California border, then everything from Joshua Tree to drowning L.A. was a wailing delta.