At the end of Summer, with production at the North Pole in full swing, I thought I’d catch up on how some of the children were doing as they headed back to school.
I took my seat at The Claus Console and flipped the switch. Instead of humming, the console hissed, clanged, and shot out tiny peppermint-scented sparks as I sat there perplexed.
Worried, I took a deep breath and stared at the machine. The Claus Console was the beating heart of my North Pole operations. A glorious, clunky, steampunk-style control panel, it had candy cane levers, brass bells, and a dial labeled Spirit Level. Two video screens were attached. The green one displayed all the children currently on the Nice List, and the red one revealed the Naughty List, though it usually remained unlit.
Today, however, both screens were blinking furiously, producing absurd misreadings. The Nice List stated, “Vladimir T., Nice: Gave dragon a haircut.” I shook my head and examined the Naughty List screen. It read, “Emma L., Naughty: Licked the moon.”
“Ridiculous,” I yelled and yanked the lever marked RECALIBRATE. Suddenly, the whole console let out a high-pitched whirrrrr-PONG. Then one of the brass bells launched clean off the console and landed in my beard.
That’s when I called for help.
Moments later, Mrs. Claus arrived with two mugs of extra-strong hot cocoa. She took one look at the console and sighed. “Have you been over working the Belief Engine again, dear?”
“No!” I said, adjusting my spectacles. “Well maybe a little. But it’s getting close to the season!”
She set my cocoa down and squinted at the screen. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I just flipped the switch,” I said, pointing to the levers. “I’m trying to run a cross-check between the Nice Index and the Naughty Footage Feed. It was supposed to flag borderline cases. You know—throwing tantrums, but then apologizing. That sort of thing.”
Mrs. Claus raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you change the settings for Goodness and Manners in January?”
“Yes, but I… hmm, now I see where I may have gone wrong.” I stroked my beard thinking for a moment then added, “But that should not cause an issue like this.”
Just then, Fixens and Bramble, my top engineer and his assistant, arrived. Fixens had a vest full of candy cane screwdrivers. Bramble brought his handy-dandy crowbar.
They pried open the back panel and were immediately engulfed in a puff of hot cocoa steam. “Sir, the Ginger Snap Circuit is melted,” Fixens coughed.
“And the Empathy Gear is fused solid,” Bramble announced.
“Too much judgment, not enough tolerance,” Mrs. Claus said and sipped her cocoa.
While they tinkered, I tried going manual. I pulled out scrolls of hand-written letters, gazed into the memory snow globes, even asked Hootchuckle the Owl to fly me updates from different time zones. But it was slow, and I needed the Console back online.
I peeked over Fixens’s shoulder. “Any progress?”
“Kind of,” he said. “We’ve rerouted the Naughty Filters through the Forgiveness Valve, but now the Console is showing everyone as Nice. Even Trevor P. from Detroit, who definitely tried to superglue his little brother to the slide in their backyard, is listed.”
Bramble emerged from under the console, soot on his cheeks. “We could try re-running the Joy Loop through the Wonder Wheel, but if that doesn’t work…”
“It’ll crash,” Fixens finished.
I stared at the flickering screens. The Claus Console had never let me down before. But maybe I’d relied on it too much. I knew machines were handy, but Christmas was more than a calculation.
“All right, give it a try!” I instructed, hoping everything would work.
The two elves did not hesitate, and their heads instantly disappeared back inside the console. Then there was a loud ‘CLACK’, followed by an even louder ‘CLANG.’ Soon I heard a faint hum coming from the console and smiled. Finally, Fixens popped out. “It seems to be working, but we won’t know until we test it.”
Not long after that Bramble emerged from the back of the console, “Let’s give this ol’ box a go Santa.”
Holding my breath, I cleared the static-filled screens, and pushed all the levers back to neutral. Then, slowly and carefully, I turned the main crank and whispered, “Let it show me the truth. Not perfection. Not mistakes. Just the heart.”
The machine shuddered, as if it had shaken off the wickedness that had infiltrated the console.
The Naughty screen dimmed. The Nice screen brightened.
I grinned while viewing a little girl helping her brother tie his shoes. Then the screen flipped to a boy holding the door open for his elderly neighbor. Even Trevor P. was displaying his good side by handing out treats to his friends and neighbors.
The Spirit Gauge clicked softly into the “Hopeful” zone.
Mrs. Claus smiled and patted my arm. “There he is. The Santa I married.”
After Fixens lovingly tightened the bolts, and Bramble carefully oiled the levers, the Claus Console was steady once more, still a little creaky, but glowing warm and honest. “It’s amazing,” I sighed, “that even my console, when handled with care, responds well to kindness just like everyone else.”
Notes From Santa
IMPORTANT NOTE: Ms. Claus and I have decided to take some time, before the rush of the Christmas Season, to explore some of the National Parks in the United States. So, not being at the North Pole, I will be taking some time off from writing stories. In the meantime please feel free to read some of my past stories.
My next new story will be posted on Saturday October 18th.
I hope you enjoyed today’s story. Stories are posted on the 1st and 3rd Saturday of each month, except December. Santa’s next story will be posted on Saturday October 18, 2025. If you have any comments or if there is something you would like me to tell you about, please feel free to leave me a comment. Until the next time . . .
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