A SNN Christmas Carol

Stave IV: The Ghost of Christmas Future or Revenge of the FComm-6

The hooded phantom slowly, silently approached. It was shrouded in a black garment, and its very form was shaped very much like a man's, but Ballway could only imagine the horror beneath the shroud. It had one outstretched hand, and as it walked, various medals and awards for various debate competitions fell out of its robe, so that it left a gold-plate and plastic trail behind it. Noticing this, the phantom hurriedly picked them all up and threw them back down its robe.

"Need those for posterity," it said in a voice so haunting, so chilly, so vain, that Ballway could only stand there as the horror appeared around him. Gathering his confidence, Ballway said, "So you are the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?"

The Spirit answered by stretching out its hand, which held an advertisement to join Fleet 6. Ballway followed the hand, and ignored the advertisement, for only a creature as horrifying as this could be in Fleet 6.

"Lead on, Spirit, for my time is short, I know. Lead the way."

So the Spirit lead the way and stopped at a Pawn Shop on the corner. Its outstretched, egotistical finger pointed in the direction of two rotund businessmen. He moved in closer to listen to their talk.

"When did he die?" asked one.

"Last night," answered another.

"What was the matter with him?" said a third, taking out some suck salt and sucking on it.

"Vorta Vor knows," said the second.

"What has he done with his money?"

"He hasn’t left it to me, that’s all I know."

The group laughed a hearty and evil laugh, such as the one that the Ghost of Christmas Present made when she left.

"Probably going to be a cheap funeral," said one, "I mean, who would hold a lavish event for a man such as he?"

Ballway was more than a little curious, and opened his mouth to answer, but was poked in the eye by the finger of the Spirit, pointing to a Pawn Shop nearby. Ballway rubbed his eye and tried to hit the Spirit, but it glided out of the way, and proceeded to taunt him. Dejected, Mike Ballway followed the Spirit to the Pawn Shop.

Several persons had just walked in, each with something to offer the clerk.

"Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she who had entered first. "Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, here's a chance. If we haven't all three met here without meaning it!"

"Very well," said Joe. "What ya got there, eh?"

"Just some old things, here take a look." She threw her bundle on the floor, and Joe opened it. It wasn’t much, some binder clips, hard drive, pencils, manuscripts.

"All right," said Joe, "I’ll give ya four space-bucks for it. No more, no less. Next!"

The laundress, next in line, handed over her bundle of sheets and towels, some spoons, plans for the takeover of STF.

"Same as before, four space-bucks. I always give more than I should to ladies. They’re just so charmin’! If you asked me for a couple space-bucks more, I’d a given it to ya. Next!"

The final party, the undertaker’s man, presented Joe with his bundle. "Open it," said the man. Joe pulled at the strings until the bundle opened to reveal a gala bundle opened to reveal a heavy roll of dark stuff.

"Bed curtains?"

You mean you took them down, all of ‘em, with him lyin’ there?"

The undertaker’s man smiled. He looked suspiciously like Jim Armstrong. "That’s right."

There was more in the package. "Blankets, too! I say, you take risks in making your fortune!"

"It’s not like he’ll need them where he’s going," said the undertaker’s man, whom we will now identify as Jim Armstrong.

"Hope he didn’t have nothin’ that could be catchin’," said Joe.

"Don’t think so," said Jim Armstrong. "And anyway, be better off like this, givin’ em to you, than to have ‘im buried with ‘em. Calico could be used so many other ways!"

At this the lot of them laughed, as did the Spirit behind Ballway.

"Sorry," it said hauntingly. "It isn’t often I hear laughter in Fleet 6."

"Spirit," remarked Ballway, "this man’s unhappy demise would tend to be my own. What is this?"

The scene had changed, and now they were in a bedroom. The bed itself was stripped of sheets and bed-curtains, the room ransacked. It was a very dark room, and Ballway nearly tripped over an overturned chair. He saw a form on the bed, but dared not go near it for if his fears were correct, he did not want to see it.

"Spirit, this is a dreadful place. In leaving it, I shall not forget its lesson. Let’s go! Show me some emotion connected with this death!"

They were transported to a house, a medium-sized house, with "Longanbach" on the front. Inside, there was a party occurring, and someone was singing. It was Mark Longanbach.

"I am FComm-2! I am FComm-2! Goodbye to Mr. Ballway! I am FComm-2!"

Ballway gasped in horror. "No, not him! He’ll ruin everything! I should have willed Fleet 2 to that intelligent and handsome XO on the Constellation. But no matter, show me some tenderness connected with a death, Spirit!"

Both the Spirit and Mr. Ballway were transported to a familiar street, indeed, Larry Garfield’s street. It was quiet as they approached the Garfield home. The usually noisy Garfields were silent in one corner. The mother and daughters were engaged in knitting.

"The hue pains my retinal cells," said one.

Mrs. Garfield placed it in less light. "There now, the level of reflection of light is lessened. I mustn’t display infirm organs of sight to he who has contributed half of his genetic make-up to you."

Thaddeus looked up to his mother. "I think his level of locomotion has been less on these past few nocturnal times of day."

"I have known him to propel himself more rapidly with Tiny Seamus upon his clavicle," said Mrs. Garfield. "But his weight was insubstantial, and your aforementioned genetic contributor had emotions of affection for him, so that it was not a burden to him at all."

At this, Larry Garfield entered, solemnly.

"Laurence, it is Sunday. You drove yourself to view him?"

"Yes, I wish you could’ve gone. The Bourdaa house is spectacular, and Tiny Seamus seems happy there. Oh, if only we could have afforded that lawyer!" They all broke down at once.

"And I know," said Larry, "I know, my dears, that when we recollect how patient and how mild he was; although he was a little, little child; we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, and forget poor Tiny Seamus in doing it."

"No, never, father!" they all cried again.

"I am very happy!" said little Larry.

Mrs. Garfield kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two young Garfields kissed him, and Thaddeus and himself shook hands.

"Specter," said Ballway, "something informs me that our parting moment is at hand. Tell me, who was that man we saw lying dead?"

The Spirit pointed far from the house, and Ballway seemed puzzled. "Can’t you give me a straight answer?"

The Spirit continued pointing, and Ballway followed his glance. He arrived later at a churchyard, and saw the wretched grass and weeds that had grown around some of the tombstones. At last the Spirit pointed down at one, shaking its bony, conceited finger.

"Tell me one thing before I look, Spirit," said Ballway, upset, "is this the future, or are these things just shadows of things that could be? Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead," said Ballway. "But if the courses be departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what you show me."

Slowly Ballway crept towards the stone, and following the bony finger, looked down at the name on the stone: MICHAEL J BALLWAY.

"Am I the man that lay upon the bed?" exclaimed Ballway.

Slowly, the figure brought its bony hand up to its black hood, and let it down. Behind it was the face of none other than the diabolical Colin Wyers. Ballway screamed a loud, horrified shriek of terror at the sight of this apparition.

"Well of course it was," said Colin. "You don’t have to be a genius like me to understand that. Although, it helps to be a genius like me."

"Hear me, Spirit!" said Ballway. "I am not the man I was!" he said, clutching the Spirit’s robe, "I am not the man I was! I will not be the man I have been! Why show me these things, if there is no recourse?"

Colin thought for a moment.

"I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!"

Colin continued to think, and Ballway caught its bony hand. The Spirit tried to shake him off, but could not, and soon the Ghost repulsed him, and as Ballway watched, the Spirit faded, with a final, haunting cry of "Go Newt!" and soon the hood and robe collapsed into a bedpost, and the Spirit was no more.