By the time they have left the last present outside Yarik and Lhorna's door, Kyaris is dead on her feet.

Santa reaches out a hand to steady her, and then draws her arm through his own.

"Come on, now. There's just one last thing to do tonight — get you to bed."

"Bed sounds ... bed sounds good," Kyaris agrees. "... did we really walk the entire city?"

"We did," Santa agrees, guiding her around the corner and onto her street. "I told you there would be time for everyone. But even Christmas miracles can take a toll on those unused to them. You'll probably sleep late tomorrow."

Kyaris laughs.

"I think my work will understand."

She fumbles with her key and lets them into her apartment.

"Where will you go now? Back to that bar? Will we ever see you again?"

Santa turns down the covers on her bed and helps her stumble into it.

"Now, I go back to the rest of the world I left waiting," he tells her. "As for whether you'll ever see me ..."

He looks out her window at the growing dark and thickening snow.

"Yes, I think you'll see me again. Whenever you see someone planning a gift. Whenever you see someone sharing with a friend. Whenever you look out into the darkness of winter, and feel the stirring certainty within you that the sun will return ... you will see me."

"Whether enough people will celebrate Christmas and truly believe to extend my normal route to your world — well, I think that's up to you."

"Goodnight, Kyaris."

She snuggles up under the covers.

"Goodnight, Santa. And ... thank you."

With a puff of released magic, Santa stands once again in his bright red robes. He places a hand on her closet door, and pulls it open to reveal a warm room lit by firelight.

"Thank you! You were an excellent helper .... aaand you're already asleep."

He smiles and shakes his head, stepping through the door. He pulls it closed, but pauses, for just a moment, to look back at the world he saw.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

There are extensive debriefings, later, about why exactly first contact went the way it did. Why no reports escalated from Central River City. Why no xenopsychologists or linguists were consulted. Why no news of the alien seemed to hit the Network until he had already left. They will eventually conclude that it was, if not literally magic, it was at least something sufficiently advanced.

There are a few people who doubt that anything happened at all, and declare it all a hoax put on by some group in Central River City.

But across the city, children play with hand-made toys that nobody will admit to making. And the leftover food seems to last a suspiciously long time. 

And across the world, people wake up to personalized messages, delivered by the Network in the night, although no server logs show their passing. Most people get books — The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, or A Christmas Carol, yes, but also The Encyclopedia Brittanica, or A Complete Guide to Indo-European Languages. Just what each person will most enjoy.

And that is why, from that day to this, þereminia celebrates First Contact Day in a most unusual way:

They string up lights, and sing carols. They put on feasts and hold parties. All that is not so strange. But they do one thing more, that is less in character: they give gifts. Not everyone can, every year. There are reasons to find gift-giving (or gift-receiving) stressful and unpleasant. But those who can, do. And somehow it works out that everyone who wants a present always receives at least one.

And every year, on First Contact Day, Kyaris gathers the children and tells them the story of the time she met a holiday.