CHRISTMAS CARD ROUND-UP
by Hazed
It’s odd how traditions come and go. Here in the shiny future world of Fed DataSpace, where we travel across the galaxy in the twinkling of a ship’s hyperspace jump engines and quantum communications let us talk in real time over the comms no matter where we are, nobody needs to lose touch with their friends and family. And yet, in recent years, an ancient Earth tradition has been revived and seized upon by sentient beings of all species, including non-fleshy droids and AIs: that of sending physical Christmas cards.
I am preparing the Fed2 Star cards to be sent out soon, but meanwhile, my desk is now covered with all the cards I have been receiving over the last week.
First to arrive was a card from Pugwash. I thought she was being surprisingly well organized, then I noticed a small sticker on the back which indicates it is in fact last year’s card, turning up exceedingly late. Oh well.
A card with a picture of the Venus droid theatre on the front, from their top actor Burbage, came with sound. On opening the card you hear the droid’s booming voice reciting Christmas poems. Unfortunately closing the card does not make the sound stop, in fact it turned out to be impossible to shut it up, so I threw it on the fire. Sorry, Burbage, but it was giving me a headache.
Tracey from Phobos sent a card she had made herself, with a hand-drawn picture of a snowman and a whole lot of glitter. Sweet. (At least, I think it’s supposed to be a snowman…) Now everything on my desk is covered with glitter. It’s even got into my teacup!
A completely blank card mystified me, until I put it closer to the fire; the heat made some invisible writing appear. It is, of course, from SpyNet.
Those who have been around for a while will remember Dr Fogg, who used to run a shop on Venus catering for… erm… specialist tastes. He sent me a card. I can’t possibly describe what it depicts. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water.
The Imperial Navy card is quite ordinary, just a picture of one of their ships, but it was delivered by hand, by an Imperial Marine in full battle armour. I’ll have to get the floor repaired where his full metal boots gouged holes in the wooden boards, but still, it was nice to get the personal touch.
The labs on Rhea haven’t sent a card. Instead, they have given me a singing bluebell that warbles The Twelve Days of Christmas. Fortunately, you can stop it singing by putting in a dark place. It seems quite happy in my drinks cabinet.
Armstrong Cuthbert’s card was delivered by an Adventurer, of course. She grumbled that delivering cards didn’t earn her any AK points but it did get her goodwill from the company bureaucrats.
I received three identical cards from the bartender on StarBase1.
A sinister black card, signed only with the letter M, stated: “I’ll be back.” I can’t imagine who that might be from.
Finally, just this morning, a green card saying, “Bah humbug!” came from Bella. It is somewhat soggy around the edges – I think she must have been writing it in the bath.
