Obelisk Investments Presents: EarthTM

Greetings, mortals! I hope ye spent an enjoyable Yule & Solstice. As for me, I spent my Yule with another Santa on another Earth—& I think ye shall enjoy what we wrought.

Read on—& revel in our success!

Need to catch up? Read all of this year’s Yuletide Adventure, or revisit last year’s, right here!

“…And Be Merry.”
Part II: The Gathering
Obelisk Investments Presents: Earth™

Saturday’s excursions proved grim failures—I still suspect sabotage, but with the Eve approaching rapidly, no minutes can I spare to investigate. One more candidate world awaited—the Christmas Catalog of Worlds lists it as “DEAD WORLD,” but their Claus sent a message through an old friend. He both offered & sought my aid, so I sped merrily to “Obelisk Investments Presents: Earth™, Part of the Global Ventures Fund Portfolio of Glory.”

I exited my portal mid-way down a chimney—in my hurry, I erred in my calculations, I suppose. No matter—being so close to Christmas, on a world with a Clause, I felt sure a soft landing awaited. I exited the cold hearth, dusting soot off of my cloak, & surveyed the room. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care—but they brimmed with contracts? A tree I espied standing proudly in the corner—but no ornaments hung there. Bank notes, wrapped round the branches, & on top, a golden bull. A sick world, ‘twas immediately evident.

The world’s name, I suppose, ought to have been my main clue; I foolishly wanted to believe ‘twas merely some quirk of Business-Run-Amok—after all, on thine own Earth, business-brained fiends secure naming rights to odd things all the time. But nay, nay, as I ran out of the house & through the streets, the horrors of Earth™ screamed unto my soul. Beggars in business suits lined the streets; children kicked at them & demanded fees, wearing little suits of their own.

Each mortal I saw, in fact, wore suits, no matter their duty nor station. A barista in Brooks Brothers serving a miserly portion of coffee to a garbage man in Armani, while a small dog in Brioni looks on. Dizzy, delirious, I roamed, raving; passers-by either attempted to charge me fees or chastised me to “get a third job.” After an hour, I stumbled upon a church—surely, an island of Christmas spirit on this mad planet?

A Nativity stared up at me from their lawn, with perverse & twisted faces. In the manger, a golden calf; attending him, in business suits, Three Rich Men. They handed him gifts of gold, & goldenscense, & a futures contract for myrrh. A priest accosted me, beaming, asking whether I “enjoyed the display” & if so would I “mind buying a ticket?” I minded, grievously, & drew my wand in rage—but thankfully, what to my glowering eyes should appear? A miniature sleigh, & eight tiny reindeer!

I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself—the Claus of this Earth™ tracked & found me! What a relief. He unrolled a candy-cane ladder down—

“Quickly,” he cried, with a wink of his eye, “fly up the ladder, ‘fore Collectors arrive!”

The priest recoiled in horror, pointing at the jolly old elf, as if he’d seen a ghost. I clambered up into the sleigh; & I heard this Santa exclaim, as we drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, & suffer my vengeance tonight!”

We sped off into the stars, & the screams below faded quickly under the jingling sleigh-bells.

Aboard Asteroid S—this Claus’ orbiting Workshop—Mrs. Claus provided me cocoa & cookies to steady myself. They asked of my journey & quest; I explained the situation back on thine Earth, thy Santa’s crisis of conscience. They nodded, knowingly; they once faced a similar crossroads.

On Obelisk Investments Presents: Earth™, history—they explained—unfolded similarly to thine own, until the 19th Century. Rather than fighting a Civil War, in the United States, they passed the “Act of Final Compromise.” All slaves were freed, at once; their owners, compensated; slavery on the basis of race, outlawed; restored, howe’er, was slavery on the basis of debt. This was deemed “fair;” for e’en a rich man may fall into debt, & thus into slavery. Children of slaves were born free, but billed for their room & board (as were dogs, housewives, &c.).

This “just” form of slavery—a rebranded resurrection of debt peonage—spread like wildfire back into Europe. Nations which were slowly coming round to outlawing bondage, heaved sighs of relief as they received this justification for continuing their vile practices.

Abolitionists resisted this change; some small uprisings occurred. But under the new laws, abolitionists were turned easily into slaves. Publishing a pamphlet on the evils of slavery? The city could charge an exorbitant fee for “use of public word-space,” which the abolitionist could ill afford, reducing them to bondage. Raising funds to emancipate someone, or to pay off a debt to avoid the chains? That merits a fee for “outside banking activity,” an assessment of interest owed to the locality; &c., &c. More & more of the world found themselves enslaved to fewer & fewer; but they all believed that, with just the right stroke of luck or business acumen, they might become the masters, someday.

Popular beliefs began to shift, with common morality reorienting around indebting others. Religious services began to transform, reinterpreting the Bible & Quran & Torah & the Vedas to justify the new order of life, as divinely-inspired. Children were taught that money is love, & that love is debt no one can afford.

Christmas itself—already suffering from commercialization—became a core vehicle for the transformation. Mary & Joseph were, ‘twas now deemed, debtors fleeing Collection. The Savior, foretold to be born without debt; & indeed, when the Three Rich Men followed the star-light to find Him, they brought gifts with sufficient market value to ensure He would cover His room & board for at least 15 years.

I felt sick, & gripped my cocoa mug in fear. An entire world, consumed by business brain, yet on it lived. I pleaded with this St. Nick to tell me, how did stand it? What is it he does, up here aboard Asteroid S?

His eyes, how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry! He chortled with glee, & ‘twas a bit scary.

From his jacket he produced a candy-cane flute; he whetted his lips, & gave it a toot. From the ceiling descended several snowy data-globes; a list of targets, & plans of attack.

“Santa-tage,” he called it, & considered it his sacred duty. The gift of liberation, long in the planning. He would strike, all in one night, the records of debt held all over the world. All receipts, all accounts, all certificates of stock & letters of ownership. All would be gone—& could I please help!

I arose with a shout, vowing my fealty; the elves cried “HUZZAH” & our preparations began. What followed, dear readers, was a Christmas miracle indeed: the most glorious Santa-tage e’er carried out!

We burnt all their scrolls, we torched all the books! We hacked up the servers, & erased whole block-chains! Swiftly the systems collapsed, & chaos did reign. Some pain, to be sure, but the pains of the free. Free for now; free fore’er…well of that, no guarantee. But Santa gave them a chance, to turn things around; to look deep inside, & consider what they found. The powerful stripped of their main forms of control, & a moment for the powerless to choose what was worth it at all.

Back on Asteroid S, Santa opened a way-gate; we would rejoin my allies, convene on thy Earth, & see if we could talk your Claus into making his deliveries.

I have faith we shall succeed…

“…And Be Merry.” shall continue on Wednesday, Christmas Eve!

Thank ye for reading, mortals! & thank ye extra-much to the generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye enjoyed this installment! Wholesome Christmas action! This Wednesday—Christmas Eve—I shall write ye news of this week’s episode, & my return to thy North Pole on the Yuletide Adventure. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, ‘tis better to forgive than collect…

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Ardent Santa-teur