"I mean, there are plenty of holidays that involve communal sharing of resources?" Kyaris clarifies. "The harvest festival, for example. So you might make food or costumes for a group of people. But I don't think there are any holidays that involve giving a gift to a specific single person, if that's what you mean. In Central River City, at least. Lots of cities have different traditions."

"But why not?" Santa asks, his white eyebrows coming together like tiny clouds.

"I ... think that it would make it less special, to get a gift and know it was given out of traditional obligation, and not love?" Kyaris hazards. "Also, it would be an imposition on people, right, and a lot of folks wouldn't be able to handle the additional stress of having to coordinate it."

Santa shakes his head.

"No, no, no, that just won't do," he says. "It won't do!"

He clasps his hands imploringly.

"I'm not about to tell you how to run your city — but please, just for tonight, let me hand out some presents."

He pats the pouch on his belt.

"I have just what everyone needs."

"... you have what everyone needs?" she questions.

"I do!"

He taps the side of his nose.

"It's the magic of the season — I always know what to give everyone I meet. Tell me, do you like that robe?"

Kyaris looks down at the green robe crumpled in her lap.

"... I do. I actually meant to get another casual around-the-house robe, actually, but I've been putting it off."

He nods decisively.

"So if you'd just let me through your door, I can go and hand out some presents and be back quick as a wink."

Kyaris fingers the robe.

"I think some of the people I work with will find you ... overwhelming," she cautions. "So I'll do it, on the condition that I can come with you to help explain."

She gestures to his coat.

"But you'll probably want to change into a different outfit. Red is the color of people who don't want to talk."

He strokes his beard.

"Well, it's not the modern version, but ...

"Will this do?" he asks, suddenly wearing a brown robe and a stole instead of his earlier red robe.

"Yes," Kyaris agrees. "I don't think that outfit will raise any eyebrows."

She finishes off her drink with a big gulp, and then stands and faces the door, squaring her shoulders. Time to find out how much of this is real.

"Alright."

She opens the door, and gestures Santa through.

"Welcome to Central River City."

Santa glances around her small open-plan apartment, taking in the exposed conduits, the attachment points screwed into the beams, the neatly organized containers of various ingredients.

He takes a deep breath.

"It's nice to see somewhere new. Let's go spread some cheer!"

She steps through to join him in her bedroom, and her phone reconnects to the Network. Her call to Emergency Services goes through, and she quickly turns it off of stealth mode.

"Emergency Services. What is your emergency?"

"Hi Thummil — this is Kyaris. I'm either hallucinating, or I'm going to be guiding an alien who is the magical embodiment of a gift-giving celebration through the city so that he can distribute gifts to people. Either way, would you send a patrol to come check in on us?"

Working as an Emergency Services dispatcher requires a certain unflappability.

"Alright. Do you want me to connect you to the hospital, as well?"

"No — I don't think that's necessary. I'll leave my location shared with you, just in case."

Santa strokes his beard, looking consideringly at the phone.

He snaps his fingers.

"Okay, Kyaris. Zakrimit and Verhatis are on their way, and should be with you in a few minutes. Try not to do anything that would be risky if there were no magic occurring, alright?"

"My apologies for interrupting," Santa interjects. "But Thummil — check your messages. And Merry Christmas!"

Kyaris taps the phone over to standby and drops it into her robe before Thummil can reply.

"Did you send them a message?" she asks, making her way toward the door. "How?"

"I think you will find that very little can stop me from giving a gift," Santa tells her. "It's a little harder over a distance, but I gave them a copy of a book that they were saving up for."

Kyaris frowns, pulling on her high winter boots.

"With physical goods, creating them creates value. But electronic goods have zero marginal cost of production — if you just magic a copy into existence, you're making the author poorer," she observes, although her voice is not judgemental.

Santa smiles gently at her.

"It's magic," he explains. "It would hardly be a gift if it were stolen. So the right amount of money will have made its way to the author. And before you ask where that came from, it will have come from somewhere that it was not doing anyone any good, and will not be missed."

He opens the door for her.

"When done right, generosity is like love: potent, unable to be contained or combated, and the more you give, the more there is. When I was just a man, I knew its power. Now, I am something more than that."

He chuckles.

"Ah, it's been so long since I've worn this form. It makes me preachy."