"So, is everyone ready for Christmas?" I looked out over the assembled faces. The small knot of children was agitated. Many nodded eagerly, but some seemed hesitant, or even nervous. I knew that part of it was being so deep inside Shelter; those from the tracts might well have been here only once or twice before. That was compounded by the noise: every time the engine revved up, some of them would jump. Even without their bare torsos and short-cropped hair it would have been easy to tell the lottery winners from those who had paid their way. No one answered, so I pushed on. “Well then, this is the first Christmas we’ve had in three years, but you might have heard about it from your siblings or parents. Before we go in, does anyone know what to expect?” “My mommy said it was like ice cubes all over,” said Martin. He stood at the front, with his arms crossed and chin jutting out. I smiled and nodded. “That's not a bad way to think of it.” A hand shot up at the back of the crowd. “Ashely?” I say, remembering the slight girl mostly by the angry scar on her shoulder. “What's an ice cube like?” I bit my lip. “umm, it's wet and, uhh…” I racked my brain. Ashley was one of the lottery kids, so this was probably one of the handful of times she’d been off of her parent’s tract. “It’s kind of like when you're wet and you stand outside in the wind.” “Oh, oh, like a fwidge?” one of the others burst in. I look over to see one of the smallest girls beaming up at me in pigtails. As daughter of the mayor, the preparations hardly fazed her. “That’s a good analogy, Claire,” I said making sure to keep a smile on my face. If Ashley doesn’t know ice, she won’t know fridges, either. “Just wait a few minutes, Ashley, You'll see yourself in just a little bit, okay?” “Okay,” she said, in a small voice, stepping back. Another hand went up. “Yes, Charity?” “My Da got sick once, and we went to see him and my arms went all pricky.” “Oh, the clinic?” That must have cost a tidy pile of chits. “Ya!” She nodded eagerly. I nodded. “Well, that’s cold too, and those are called goosebumps.” She stared at me seriously before someone in the back piped up, though I missed seeing who. “What's a goose?” I glanced at the clock. “We'll cover that in history class later.” I looked around the rest of the group. “Did anyone else have any last thoughts before we went in?” One of the kids in front cleared his throat. I looked over to see one of the older boys regarding me with sharp eyes. “Peter?” “My brother said that Christmas was supposed to be in December.” I pursed my lips. “That's a complicated answer,” I said, just as the growl of the ancient engine quieted. It’d be ready any minute now. “And I'm afraid that's another thing I'll have to talk to you about later.” I clapped my hands “Okay everyone, time to get dressed.” Peter didn't look satisfied, but held his peace as I opened up the chest and started handing out the heavy clothes: long sleeved jackets and thick pants in a riot of colors and styles. The kids were still looking at them a little strangely, so I demonstrated by donning my own garments. The fabric was faded and brittle in places, but it still held together. “Pretend it's a coolsuit,” I said, looking at the array of shorts they wore and remembering the advice I’d heard the teacher give last time. Most of the kids were at least familiar with those. They went on easily for the most part, aside from a sporadic litany of: ‘I can't move,’ ‘It's itchy’ and ‘this smells funny’. I walked around the room, helping as necessary until I finally reached the far end. Peter had his pants on, but the jacket was half off, and he was examining the side panel closely. His eyes met mine as I came up to him. “Where do the lines hook up?” “Don't worry, it’s like a coolsuit, but it’s different, too. There aren't supposed to be any lines connected, it holds your own body heat in, instead. Just put it on - you'll be grateful for it in a minute.” I turned back to the rest of the group as the tone of the engine changed again, and I saw Bob, its operator, poke his head and give me the thumbs up. “Alright, everyone, gather at the door with me. No pushing now.” The gaggle of children looked more nervous, but came together at my wave. Some were still half dressed, but that was okay - they'd be motivated enough once we were inside. “Are you sure you can't take Jenna?” The voice was hesitant, and I looked at the door to see a woman standing there, her weather-beaten face framed in the light. Below, a little girl clung tightly to her leg, like she might be blown away in a stiff breeze. The mother held out her hand and I could see a small pile of chits glinting on her palm. Blues, golds and greens - ones and tens and hundreds, but even from here I could see that there were too few of the last. I bit my lip. My own gleanings were meager enough; one of the reasons I took on this extra teaching position in the first place. But for her, as a freebroker that small handful probably represented more than a month of scrimping and saving. I looked at her a long moment before shaking my head. “No, keep it.” The woman’s face fell as I turned away, but I moved only as far as the chest. There, at the very bottom was another jacket. It was musty and had more holes than I cared to count, but it was better than nothing and I could hear the sharp intake of breath as I knelt to Jenna and held it out to her. Her mother tried to press the chits on me, but I shook my head. “Keep them,” I said, feeling a sad smile tug at my lips. “Merry Christmas.” Then I turned to the door and heaved it open. The squeal of hinges was accompanied by a blast of frigid air, and at least one of the kids shrieked. I tried not to grin at the reaction, but I couldn’t afford to waste the time and air as I ushered them into the room. It wasn’t large, maybe twenty feet wide by thirty feet long, with sheet metal walls that covered up thick insulation. Bare lights hung from the from the ceiling, illuminating a series of displays that lined the walls. The floor was slick and wet, possibly due to a large vat of water in the corner opposite the door, the chill breeze from numerous vents making ripples on the surface. In the other corner stood a small Christmas tree, the sparkling lights almost enough to disguise its threadbare branches. “Merry Christmas, everyone, now get in quickly, so I can shut the door.” They filed in quickly and the door shut with a clang. The kids were getting rowdy, but it was still easy to hear the muffled roar as the engine revved back up again. Moments later, an icy wind started pouring through the vents anew. The kids huddled together in a knot in the center of the room, then shrieked as a miniature blizzard sprayed from the vents. I had stood well back, expecting it. “That's called snow. It's like rain that falls from the sky, but frozen.” Actually, it was shaved ice, and Bob and I'd spent a few hours slicing it up, but they didn't need to know that. Moments later, the ice storm had abated, and curiosity began making inroads among the kids. Some went around the edges of the room, staring at the displays, wide-eyed. Most huddled together in the middle. As I approached this group the leader rounded on me; Mary had her lip stuck out in a pout that might have been cute if except for how her eyes were scrunched up. “Solid rain? That’s just dumb. Besides, how can it rain inside? That doesn't make any sense.” She kicked at an errant chunk of ice. “I don't like it. I'm glad they fixed it.” I shrugged. “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.” Her scowl told me what she thought of that idea, and I backed off. “Well, it'll just be a little bit longer, sweetie, bear with it. You should look around and see the displays.” Mary’s expression didn’t improve, but she kept her peace. I pointed to the tree in the back. “See? That’s Santa Claus. If you're a good little girl, he'll make sure that the harvest is good, and that your parents are safe when they're out scouting.” She looked at it more closely, but didn't say anything. I guess she was one of the skeptics. Inevitably, the kids discovered snowballs, and soon the floor was slick with ice. There was a yell and a thud, and I turned to see Jenna sprawled on the ground. “Are you okay?” I rushed over to her side. Her close cropped hair was crusted with frost and her eyes were wide. “It was like this for half the year?” she said, breathless as I helped her sit up. “Not exactly half, but it was supposed to have been a lot of the time, yes.” Her face was flushed as she stared about with wide eyes. “Jenna, is everything alright?” She nodded, eyes bright, before pulling away to go to a different display. More minutes passed as I watched the kids exploring. I explained the displays as best I could; things I’d remembered from my own visit as a kid, plus the additional research I’d done since. Ski shoes and Eskimos, polar bears and snowmen. Sweat beaded my brow. I was burning up in my own layers, but that was fine. If trapping my own heat in kept it cool a little longer, it'd be worth it. Finally, the door creaked open again and Bob signaled me the time. I stood to the side, watching the kids file out. Most rushed out, but some lingered, watched closely by the next group as they waited anxiously for their turn. The club was dressed only in loincloths and carried towels, except for the chief, who also wore an ivy circlet on his brow and carried a candelabra. Jenna was the last one out. “I'm going to make it Christmas all the time!” she said, I gave her a hug, picking her up and swinging her around so she was out of the way of the door. The chief nodded his thanks as the club started filing in. “That’s a noble goal, but even in the old days, it wasn’t Christmas all the time.” “Well, I’m gonna fix it!” she said, squirming in my arms before I set her down so she could join the others. Bob came up beside me, folding his arms. “What a colossal waste.” I raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be minding the motor?” “Already burned up more gas than we should’ve. The club will have to make do with what we already put in.” he said, closing the door. “You really didn’t notice?” I flushed. The difference in noise wasn’t exactly subtle. “You don’t think the kids experiencing different things is useful? What about them?” I said, nodding my head towards the door. “The two hundred degree club isn’t exactly practical, either.” “They’ve paid their way, and there are health benefits besides. Hands on history lesson is rubbish.” He shook his head. “Burning all that energy to give them a taste of what they can't have.” I turned to glare at him. “You're exaggerating. I know for a fact that the radiators aren't having any trouble keeping up. That was the whole reason we moved it to January in the first place.” “I know, and if it wasn’t for that extra boost in cooling, we wouldn’t have been able to pull it off this year.” He paused, giving me another look. “The energy savings which you just blew, I might add.” I rolled my eyes. “Don't exaggerate. One extra little girl isn’t going to make a difference. I don’t see why the lottery is so strict in the first place.” He snorted. “That’s not for us to decide. You still have to pay her fee.” “I know, I know.” The next teacher arrived and I handed off the kids before heading to the locker room. I was just shrugging into my outerwear when one of the techs came in, bringing the scent of dust. I helped him with his gear, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the visor came off, but his face was drawn. “I heard about that stunt you pulled. You're going to have to make the ergs up.” “You’ve got one of the only three portable radios, and that’s what you use it for?” I said, already calculating the extra hours in my head. There were a couple of palms in my field that looked promising. If I babied them and the weather held, I might be able to squeeze a few hundred more grams of oil out of them. “Hard to focus on pipefitting while there’s a bunch of whiny brats prancing about in the snow.” “I take it you didn’t like your applied history class?” I said, trying not to frown. “You’re burning more fuel to have the right ambiance while we’re broiling out there. It’s just making things worse.” I shook my head. “Making things worse? Maybe, but that ship has well and truly sailed. What’s a few more grams of CO2 going to matter at this point?” He sighed as he shucked the last of his gear, standing up in his skivvies. “That’s the kind of thinking that got us into this mess. For someone who teaches a history class, I wonder about your perspective sometimes.” “There are different types of perspective.” He just grunted and turned for the door. I’m glad there was no one to see my expression as I pulled on my own gear. It would have been nice if he’d stuck around long enough to lend me a hand, I thought, working out an annoying crease. The fabric chafed, but the memory of a smiling young face bubbled up, crowding it out. My ears popped as I stepped through the door opened and I grinned as I set foot into the fields. Was it just me, or did the breeze seem extra fresh today?