A Meaning of Christmas

This was what the very first thing Daxqthu saw when he teleported to Earth: a giant, sparkly orb.

He pulled out his all-purpose MDRD—Multifunctional Data Recording Device—and snapped a picture, which was automatically sent to the computers in the spaceship hidden in the sky far above his head. The MDRD was disguised to look like the “cell phone” so many of the natives were keen on carrying, just in case Daxqthu got seen.

Well then, he thought, and the MDRD sent the thoughts to the computers’ databases as well; that takes care of sight.

Daxqthu’s job was very simple in theory. For nearly forever, the Froochalans had watched Earth with extreme interest, as if it were a long-running soap opera. Many of the Earthling’s strange little quirks and habits confused and delighted them, but none so much as Christmas. Try as they might, they could not understand this thing called a “holiday.” Christmas, especially—everywhere they looked, they found another “meaning” of it!

So, finally, a certain group of scientists had an idea: if they sent someone down there, to mingle with the natives, perhaps they could get well on their way to understanding what the holy flabjinks it was all about.

Daxqthu was there to find the true Meaning of Christmas.

He had to start by collecting a single scene—if a picture spoke a thousand words, then a 3-D, five-sense moment would speak a million. The MDRD did most of the work for him, collecting samples of air around him.

It picked up a few molecules, ran a minute scan of them, and decided they were scented wax. The mind-reader scanned a few of the nearby humans’ thoughts and labeled the scent as cinnamon roll.” It also continued with, ”The perfect holiday scent! Buy one get one free! I want to go home….”

Interesting, thought Daxqthu, studying the device’s screen. This individual does not seem to be displaying the “holiday spirit” so well publicized by the various television and radio broadcastings we’ve received from the planet. I do wonder. He typed these musings into the MDRD’s virtual notepad as it continued to collect data from the surroundings.

In the end, it built up the following scene:

A small city by human standards. Snow fell approximately ten minutes ago; atmospheric conditions suggest precipitation will resume shortly. Temperature: 36 degrees. Thoughts such as “like friggin’ needles poking at my skin” abound. Flesh this out.

The MDRD also sent Daxqthu a road map and other useful information, such as a bus schedule. He looked up from his sheltered spot and saw one of the enormous vehicles pulling into a stop. What better chance could there be to mingle with the natives?

He flicked the controls on the shielding device from  “invisibility” to “camouflage” as indiscreetly as possible. There were a few moments as the MDRD made sure no one was observing him, and then Daxqthu flicked into the shape of a human.

It was very awkward. Though the shielder had made him as close to the normal Froochalan height as possible, he still felt ridiculously short and squat. With a clumsy gait, he shuffled over to the bus before it pulled away.

Discreetly, Daxqthu dropped a couple of blank metal circles into the payment box. They were made of a certain mix of aluminum and programmed microchips; they’d read the machine’s mind to see what shapes it wanted, then mold to that shape.

Daxqthu edged into the crowd as best he could. There were no seats left empty. He was forced to stand, one hand firmly clenched around a pole, the other holding the MDRD.