Dec. 11th, 2011

There was a payphone on the edge of the park. I called up the Abominable Snowman. He picked up on the third ring. "Christmastown Police," he rumbled.

"I know you don't want me calling you," I said, "but I had no choice. No way you're dialing me with your bum hand."

There was a hint of growl in his voice. "Sam the Snowman, as soon as I catch you, I am going to hang you upside-down in an ice cave."

"Tricky, as I have no feet," I replied. "Listen, don't bother with the phone trace. I'm going to tell you exactly where I'm going to be. You can just come on by and scoop me up."

"Sure I can," said the Abominable Snowman. "Pull the other one."

"I'm serious," I said. "I'm going to go and extract a confession from the guy who killed Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer."

"That guy's in jail, Sam," said the cop. "You can talk to him about it when you're roommates."

"The killer's not in jail," I said. "His name is Saint Nicholas, aka Kris Kringle, aka Santa Claus. In ten minutes, at his castle, he's going to confess to murdering Rudolf." I let that hang in the air a second. "You might not want to miss it," I added.

The Abominable Snowman cleared his throat uncertainly. "What?" he said.

I hung up. The conversation had reached its zenith anyway.

I glided towards the castle. Santa, you were beloved the world over, a champion of children, a force for good.

How could you?

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My good old Chrono Transit ground to a halt. The Hawking Cylinder had burnt out. Parts aren't available anymore, and I needed the Chrono to go back in time, so I had to manufacture the part myself. That's tricky; a Hawking Cylinder extends beyond three spatial dimensions.

So, I fired up the tesserolithograph and uploaded the part template. It painted layers of resin and neutrinos in a matrix folded into the higher dimensions. The setting bath cured the part such that it was finished before the process started.

I don't always live in the future, but it's fun to visit.



September 2012

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