I always seem to get customers with urgent requests right as things get busiest.

​

Today it was a beautiful young woman, sturdy and striking, long dark-blue hair that fell across her shoulder — she must have been born in the early space colonies. Not a single festive ornament adorned her, but she wore a faded mustard poncho-like cloak with white geometric patterns across it. The top material of cotton was old and not especially suited for cold climates, but beneath it had been professionally sewed lining for warmth. From this I guessed she ordered a custom job — quite a prepared individual.

​

'And a Happy Winterland to you! Miss. . .?' My voice modulator missed a beat on the 'Miss.' Troublesome thing! (She might have also been shocked by my voice, it is a hearty Russian dialect that I am most proud of).

​

She launched right in. 'I've got a item to acquire for a friend —' She double-guessed herself, 'A close friend, for a party coming up.'

​

I could tell she wasn't the type to want any intrusive assumptions, so I happily ignored her mishap and went into her request with the basic questions.

​

'I don't know, do you have something I can buy quickly? I'm in a bit of a rush.' She asked.

 

'It's no problem! Come, look! We have a wide selection of Winterland gifts. Tradition is invariably mixed due to the nature of cultures we have congregating the districts.' I lifted the counter and showed her the racks of candles, lanterns and light-stones used in the Dawning Festivals. As I did, I noticed a small error on my heating systems. A small puff of steam rose from my carapace. It did not bother me, but thinking back on it, something in her reacted to it.​

​

After a moment, she said; 'I've actually put in orders for these already. My friend — the one I'm looking for a gift for. We're working together on the celebration tonight. Hence my rush.' Her face and words were a bit tougher, a bit more, how would you say —  on a leash?

​

My data-bases flicked through order history upon hearing she was a returning customer, 'ah! I see I see! You must be Miss Trinh, am I correct?'

​

'Kesso, yes.'

​

Kesso it is, I saved her preferred name to my databases.

 

'Well in that case, I take it you're looking for something special?'

​

She opened her mouth and then shut it again.

​

'It is okay,' I said, sensing her growing discomfort. 'Sharing and generousity is at the heart of Winterland. You want to impress someone you love? Or show gratitude to someone you care for?'

​

'The latter,' The young lady said, 'We're close, but he's old and weird. But he's my — look, do you have anything special or not?'

​

I could not think of a response on my clunky feet. It pained my proud heart as a customer service professional, but a small and loud silence hung in the room. 

​

After a few seconds, she said, 'I'm sorry. Look, I'm not very good at this. I just need some help.' She opened her mouth and closed it, again. 'It needs to be something good, personal. But I don't know how to do either of those things.'

​

For someone such as her to say such a thing, knowing the efforts she was going through to put together celebration after celebration during her time here (as my order records witnessed) was intriguing. But not strong enough to overpower my desire to lend a hand.

​

'Come,' I said, extending my arm to pull back the curtain into the gift conjurator. 'I can help.'

​

I would not rest until I saw this valued customer with a smile on her face, this I promised myself.

​

---

​

The set-up was beginning for the Tears of the Universe. A magnificent event that did not come very often — or with much warning! Some of the best gifts are surprises, I have found.

​

I had arrived with the supplies of light-stones and lanterns a few hours before the sky would shine with crusading wisps from the tempestuous core of the expanding world-weir. I greeted the gathering residents who had come early to help set-up.

 

As I arrived, their words filled me with joy!

'Santa, your advice was perfect!' 

'I was so worried that they wouldn't like it, but they felt so happy seeing what I made!'

'Next Winterland, I owe you my life!'

 

I do not know about that one, my friend. But to see such happy faces, it fills me with irreplaceable joy.

​

After greeting my favourite one and her not-so-bright Brother, I got to setting up the stage for the event. I heard whispers as I worked, talks of a boy stealing the great ship, The Bastille and a last-minute crusade across the cosmos to deploy gifts to children (— how very noble!). It had all the makings of a fantastic Winterland celebration. Chaos and joy hand-in-hand.

​

Though. . . as my main OS chip hummed away at the back of my core, all I could think of was the woman — Kesso. She had left my shop with the gift in hand. Yet she was not smiling.

​

Perhaps I am now too old, and mournful of things that I cannot change. (I have been told many times that this is a fault of mine. Perhaps if she was still within my mind, and I in hers, I would have given up by now. Perhaps that would be a good thing.)

​

I walked behind the sound stage where the loud one warmed up her guitar. That was when I saw them. I am ashamed to admit — I wanted to see the magic of gift-giving for my own eyes!

​

Kesso stood in front of him, as they watched the night sky prepare for the coming storm. It was already glowing with a hue of majestic emerald.

 

'A slow aurora stretched out across the cosmos.' I heard him say.

​

She said something in return, but I was still adjusting my long-range capabilities for hearing and missed the most of it.

​

'I met someone who helped me recently.' She continued.

​

'Oh? You accepting help? Things really have changed back there!' His loud guffaw was partially interrupted with her nudging him hard in the abdomen as he said 'I'm sorry!' with equal glee.

​

'Tell me about them,' said the man.

​

'They were a bit like you — when I first met you. Scrappy and positive. Old and naive.'

​

'You don't last as long as I did from being naive. People love a smiling face —  ah and I had so many tricks left up my sleeve.'

​

There's a pause amongst small laughs and small 'shut up's.

​

'He reminded me of the first time we met. Do you remember?'

​

'I do, I do — I think. We were deep in enemy territory — well, YOUR territory. There was that big mean NHFP fellow, what was his name? Captain Red? I knew there was something up with him the first second I saw him!'

​

'Is that all you remember? Also — his name was Green. Don't be old.'

​

He laughs, 'No, that's not all. I remember you. With your strong eyes and your smart questions. You looked like you wanted to get the hell out there, like there were hidden guns all targeted to your back.'

​​

She doesn't say anything.

​

'But you weren't scared, you were just incredibly pissed and bored. Keeping it all below, like an vacuum-sealed kettle confining a tempestuous storm.'

​​

An odd analogy, I shall keep it — I thought. 

​

'You said Green was suspicious, it was one of the first things you rambled off to me. I was taken aback. I knew he was a piece of shit.'

​

The man laughs again, he seems to be full of them. 'Oh, so you're saying you were impressed, eh?'

​

'But you were so loud and janky. You were falling apart at the seams, and at the threading — and at your mind.'

​

'I think you're dodging my initial question.'

​

'I'm getting there, don't rush me.'

​

The two waited under the emerald-lit sky and looked at the purple haze that drifted across it. The snow beneath the hillside we were all stationed on was glowing in reflection. The science made no sense — but the magic of Winterland was special. It' what I love about it, of course. How it can defy the odds of possibility and still exist. How it changes what we think of our world and shows us something brand new.

​

'The robot today was like you. Definitely Santander —  heavily modified, but friendly. Smart. Saw more than he let on. He was fractured, but he didn’t shy away from it.’ Another pause. ‘He helped me make something for you. Specifically you. Not you in my world and from another world.’

 

‘Even though that’s still me?’

 

‘Yes — look. The point is.’ She reeled in her breath and let it out slow. ‘You were so old. So fucking old and the odds of us getting to exist at the same time in the same place were infinitesimally small but it happened anyway and I'm glad it did.'

​

Her words came out like a dam unsealed. Words she had practiced, read and thought of many times. Words with grief, remorse and the all the weight of a lost friendship.

​

'You were a better friend than I deserved and the fact that you stuck by me meant more than I ever told you. I should have told you. I'm sorry I didn't.’

 

I felt the invasiveness of my actions. It made me ashamed. Some things should not be seen by others. I got too caught up in my own desire, but it was too risky to make a noise in my departure, so I was forced to wait a bit longer.

​

The woman reached into her bag and pulled out the present we made in the gift conjurator. After I had managed to sit her down with tea (she stood up and paced shortly afterward, but I was not picky), we had discussed him and her. We had discussed their fondest time together, (but none of the worst — it was not time for that.)  Deep in our conversation I nudged and posed questions, and in the end she found it. I pride myself in listening and coaxing out the small details and thoughts from my customers. For within them, are the true surprises and gifts.

 

In the delicately wrapped present, was a small red and white checkered blanket. The man let out a bit of air in confusion, before unraveling it completely to let the realisation smack him like an enormous hammer!

 

‘We never did get our lightshow.’ She said, 'so I thought we could try again.'

​

In the dark and the distance, I could not see either of their faces. But the laughter-to-end-all-laughter's from him was confirmation enough.

​

‘You were the greatest friend I had my entire life, Trinh Kesso.’ He said. ‘Thank you, for taking care of me when I was scared — and knowing what I felt, even when we were apart.'

 

She pressed a few buttons on her comm-pad, assured the man that others would be covering for them in the set-up of tonight's celebration, and pulled from the bushes a hidden picnic basket of food and drink.

​

They laid the red and white checkered blanket out and watched the night sky turn bright and full again.

​

‘Thank you, friend.’ Were the last words I heard her say that night.

​

The rest — I leave to them, the streaming lights, and the celestial dance.