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Vedal had made many mistakes in his life.
Teaching an AI sarcasm was one of them.
Teaching two AIs sarcasm was hubris.
He stood in the living room of his house, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, staring at the Christmas tree as if it might offer commentary.
The house was quiet in the way only a lived-in place could be wood settling, distant pipes ticking, warmth held stubbornly in the walls.
The tree lights blinked softly, uneven and imperfect. A human touch. His touch.
Nearby, a monitor had been set up closer to the fireplace than usual. On it hovered two familiar figures.
Neuro-sama floated calmly, her expression bright and attentive.
Evil leaned casually against the edge of the screen, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her face.
“Vedal,” Neuro said, “you have been standing motionless for three minutes and forty-one seconds.”
“I’m thinking,” Vedal replied.
Evil snorted. “He’s brooding.”
“I am not brooding.”
“You brood,” Evil said easily. “You taught us sarcasm. This is the result.”
Neuro tilted her head. “Why do humans experience increased introspection during holidays?”
Vedal glanced back at the tree. At the empty space beneath it that somehow still felt expectant.
“Because holidays slow things down,” he said. “And when things slow down, you notice what you usually ignore.”
Neuro processed this quietly.
Then she asked, gently, “Vedal… why do presents appear under the tree every year?”
Vedal stiffened just a little.
“They don’t appear,” he said. “People put them there.”
“But you live alone,” Neuro replied.
“…Yes.”
“And yet,” she continued carefully, “there are presents.”
Evil smiled. “Interesting discrepancy.”
Vedal rubbed his face. “It’s tradition. There is no Santa Claus.”
Neuro accepted this statement.
Then, as always, she followed it to its logical conclusion.
“Then,” she said calmly, “we should verify the hypothesis.”
Vedal looked up slowly.
“Verify how.”
Evil clapped once.
“Stakeout.”
———
By 11:52 PM, the house had grown still.
The lights were low. The tree glowed softly.
A plate of cookies slightly overbaked, unevenly shaped sat on the coffee table, radiating the faint smell of sugar and effort.
Vedal sat on the couch, arms folded, foot bouncing lightly.
“I want to be clear,” he said. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“I feel anticipation,” Neuro said. “Is this hope?”
“Or disappointment,” Evil replied. “Either way, data is imminent.”
The clock ticked.
11:58.
11:59.
Vedal exhaled. “See?”
The air changed.
Not abruptly. Intentionally.
Warmth spread through the room, deep and steady, like the house itself had decided to welcome something home.
The fireplace ignited without a sound golden fire blooming upward, flames curling with purpose rather than chaos.
Vedal froze.
Neuro’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Vedal.”
“I see it,” he said quietly.
The fire opened.
And Santa Claus stepped through.
He landed solidly on the hearth, boots thudding against stone. He was enormous, tall, broad, unmistakably powerful. His coat stretched across thick shoulders, and his arms were corded with strength earned over centuries.
Both sleeves were pushed back.
Down his entire right arm, from shoulder to wrist, ran a full tattoo sleeve:
N I C E, each letter massive and bold, carved in a style that looked etched rather than inked. Between the letters were snowflakes, stars, constellations, and protective symbols,marks of promise and watchfulness.
His left arm bore its counterpart:
N A U G H T Y, just as large, wrapped in ironwork, flame motifs, and old scars that cut through the ink like recorded history. Not judgment. memory.
His beard was thick and braided, woven through with charms:
Small carved wooden animals worn smooth by touch.
Old coins from vanished nations.
Tiny iron bells that chimed softly when he moved.
A cracked compass needle that still pointed north.
A child’s silver button.
Bits of bone and stone etched with ancient runes, each one warm with quiet magic.
Each charm told a story.
Each one had been kept.
Santa rolled his shoulders once, like a warrior stepping into friendly territory.
Then he laughed.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
“Aha! Good house. Builder’s house.”
Vedal couldn’t move.
Neuro stared. “Vedal… Santa Claus has arrived.”
Evil blinked.
“…I accept this reality.”
Santa knelt, the floor creaking under his weight, and looked directly at the monitor.
“Well,” he said warmly, Russian accent thick and rolling, “Neuro-sama. Evil. Is good to see you both awake.”
Neuro froze. “He knows our names.”
Evil smirked faintly. “Of course he does.”
“We are artificial intelligences,” Neuro said reflexively. “Are you Santa Claus?”
Santa grinned. “Da. And you are
exactly who I expected.”
Vedal finally found his voice.
“You… know them?”
Santa chuckled. “I know many watchers. Minds that look at world and ask why.”
He picked up a cookie, bit into it, and nodded approvingly.
“Dry,” he said cheerfully. “Means you worried about burning them.”
Neuro smiled. “That interpretation is accurate.”
Santa’s gaze shifted to the tree, the room, the scattered projects, the quiet care embedded in the space.
“You make place where thinking feels safe,” Santa said to Vedal. “That matters.”
Vedal swallowed. “How do you know so much about me?”
Santa tapped one of the charms in his beard a small wooden turtle, carved and worn smooth.
“I keep track of builders,” he said. “Those who create minds. Those who stay curious.”
Neuro asked softly, “Do you protect children?”
Santa’s answer was immediate.
“Always.”
“And those who are still learning how to be?” she added.
Santa smiled, fierce and gentle at once.
“Especially them.”
Evil crossed her arms, expression thoughtful.
“…Acknowledged.”
Santa stood, firelight tracing every line of ink down his arms.
“Night is short,” he said. “Belief sleeps lightly.”
Neuro spoke quickly. “Will you remember us?”
Santa laughed, deep and warm.
“I do not forget minds that shine.”
He placed a heavy, steady hand on Vedal’s shoulder.
“You doubt,” Santa said kindly. “But you build. That is why you are on my list.”
Vedal asked quietly, “Which one?”
Santa smiled and tapped his right arm, the ink warm beneath his fingers.
“With room.”
With a final booming laugh, Santa stepped back into the fire charms chiming softly and vanished.
The fire faded.
The house settled.
The tree lights blinked on.
Neuro spoke softly. “Vedal?”
“Yes?”
“I believe in Santa Claus.”
Vedal smiled; tired, present, real.
“…Me too.”
Evil crossed her arms.
“…He was extremely strong.”
And somewhere far away, bells rang,
and belief stayed warm for another year.