It was a clear, moonlit night when Chris — or, Santa, as he was now known to little children everywhere — and his son Daniel, whom he had stopped to pick up along the way, drove off in the sleigh. It didn't seem that long ago when he himself first packed up and left the North Pole for college, and then started to work at the head office of one of the largest toy consortiums in the world. This had been a natural fit, seeing that he was the son of one of the, if not the most, beloved figures on the planet. It was the reason he had left the North Pole in the first place; for how was one to compete with the jolly old elf? He needed to see if he could make his own way in the world before he legitimately felt worthy to perhaps one day fill his father's shoes.

He had risen quickly through the ranks of the toy company to an executive position — not only because of his superior knowledge of toys and elven efficiency, but also because of an innate ability to inspire creativity in others — when Herschel, the assistant head-elf, and Santa's right-hand man (which was not as easy as it might sound, being an elf and all), his 'Number One', as it were, found him and let him know that his father was retiring after an unexpected accident, and that it was time for him to take over the position as head-elf, and fulfill the life he was born to live.

The full moon shined above which highlighted the glistening crest of new-fallen snow on the ground beneath; this made it seem nearly bright as day. An almost infinite array of sparkling ice crystals caused the ground to appear like it was covered in glitter. This diffuse reflecting phenomenon, where light from the sun was redirected by the moon, and then passed through and bounced off of the individual snowflakes, always made for romantic, moonlit walks through parks and pathways. The air, particularly brisk, brought couples even closer together during their leisurely strolls.

Chris had fallen for the daughter of one of his supervisors during one of these late night winter promenades. They had first met at the University of Illinois at Chicago. His major was in business, hers in fine arts. It was actually her influence with her father that brought Chris to work at that toy factory in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. After an elaborate ceremony — his side came to the wedding incognito — and a few years together, the union produced one child, a boy they named Daniel. A family had been a dream come true for Chris, until all of the late nights at the factory, going through business reports, projections, and proposals, took their toll.

That, coupled with the fact that he had never really told her the truth about his extended family; had never fully revealed himself to her. She always felt like he was holding something back. It was not like he didn't want to tell her about his parents, it was that the timing never seemed quite right. It was just easier not to have to explain or prove the seemingly unexplainable; and as yet, until he became Santa himself, unprovable.

The sleigh, or their mode of transportation for the evening, was like a picturesque-postcard with all of its intricate, old-world craftsmanship, combined with contemporary innovations. The whip Santa had on board was there mainly just for show. It was rarely, if ever used. When it was utilized it never actually touched the reindeer. Although Santa operated the reins, he allowed Comet, the lead reindeer, to do what he had always done, what he had done for over a thousand years, to take the lead in guiding the team. He had a no-nonsense approach when it came to his job. This confirmed the respect of both Santa and the other tiny reindeer — who only seemed tiny as you saw them from a distance; up close they were just as large as other caribou, or the genus Rangifer Tarandus — which drew the sleigh behind him. The team, therefore, never really needed the crack of a whip. Their galloping synchrony made the pulling of the sleigh appear effortless.

Though they had been doing this from the beginning, all of the rooftop stops and starts were nonetheless difficult to negotiate; and over the years of modernization had become even more so. Just one miscalculation on their line of approach through an overhead cable or an electrical wire, one misplaced hoof or rudder against a bathroom vent or attic fan, and Santa, the sleigh, the bundle of toys, and the reindeer — the whole kit and caboodle, as it were — would all come crashing down. They would then land, somewhere in a yard, bush, or worse yet, atop a front porch, in a heap.

The subsequent racket and clatter involved would stir homeowners and neighborhood watch groups in the immediate area. Parents in kerchiefs and caps, those who had settled in for their long winter's nap, and were then dreaming of a white Christmas, hoping for a silent night — which, with excited children stirring, was well-nigh impossible — would then be alerted to see exactly what was the matter. Children would also be awakened; those who were subconsciously listening for sleigh bells in the snow. 9-1-1 in all likelihood would be notified, as well as E.A.R.S.S., or, the Emergency Aerial Reindeer Sleigh Service, in a strained, if not accurate, elven acronym. If such a situation ever occurred, the sleigh would automatically send out a discreet sub-atmospheric distress signal, and they would then be immediately dispatched.

Consequently, the North Pole Association, an elfish advocacy group, were huge proponents of underground wiring. Which group discreetly petitioned the government agencies responsible; or, those who were over these matters. There would then be a few less obstacles into which they could fly.

Fortunately, Herschel, in a remarkable display of insight and intuition, had asked Gustav, head of research and development at the North Pole, to build an obstruction warning device into the sleigh. An instrument of highly technical innovation, it could sense an obstacle, loose shingle, or tile, from hundreds of yards away; long before they made rooftop. They could then approximate the gable from a different line of attack, or hover just above if there were too many landing difficulties associated therewith.

In this way they had every angle covered. Safety was paramount; it was absolutely their primary concern. However, most importantly, no accidents ultimately meant that every household would eventually be visited, and that no believing child would be left without.

Herschel also had Gustav install a one-of-a-kind radar navigational jamming system to help prevent the miniature sleigh — which, like the reindeer, only seemed small when seen from a distance — from being tracked; but even that had its limitations. The military, specifically Admiral Bernie from Naval Intelligence, as well as officials at Homeland Security, had been trying for years to follow the sleigh's route to and from the North Pole. This was where the tracings were believed to have originated; although, up to this point, their efforts had only met with marginal success. They had sporadically seen blips connected with their radar, but were unsure what they actually meant. Each blip appeared far apart on the screen, signaling an extremely high rate of speed. They had never seen anything so rapid before; it was unlike any known aircraft.

Since they had nothing comparable with which to physically follow this unexplained aerial event, or U.A.E. as it was known in military...