A Vulcan's first Christmas.

by
Marketa J Zvelebil

It was December 24th: Earth date. We were stationed in Prague - once the capital of Czech Republic, now part of the Europian Federation. My father was in the diplomatic corps of Vulcan.

I stood outside, warm in my slightly shimmering thermal shield. Soft snowflakes were falling, gently bonding with the settled glittering snow. Snow everywhere, ankle deep. On the streets, reflecting the light from the old-fashioned street lamps. On the roofs. Even the ground flitters were covered. I stood outside the embassy for a moment enjoying the solitude. After a while I walked, slowly, on the crunching snow, through the ancient city. In some ways it reminded me of Vulcan, in others it was very different.
"Go and see what Christmas is all about," my father said, "see IDIC first hand."
"A, t'chi'tire" (yes father)
I strolled over the Charles bridge, along the houses. It was dark, but the stars were bright. By habit I looked for Eridani, and found home.
"Satuk!" I heard my name.
"Vaclav." I acknowledged the five year old son of one of my father's team.
"I am so excited!" He said digging his gloved hands into his coat pockets. Even Czechs got cold.
"Indeed"
"Yes, It's Christmas tonight. Baby Jesus is coming to bring the presents, and the tree and ... ooh I wish you could come too."
"Baby Jesus?" I asked perplexed. Of course, I has learned about Jesus when we covered Christianity. But I never heard about Baby Jesus bringing presents. Surely he would be too old now.
While we talked we arrived at his home and he dragged me in. Marek, his older brother, opened the door.
"Satuk, live long and prosper," he greeted me.
"Merry Christmas, Marek," I answered hoping that was the correct phrase.
Vaclav had skipped to the kitchen and we were alone.
"Marek, what is this about Baby Jesus?" I asked.
He laughed gently. "Vaclav still believes," he grinned and continued. "In our country, the children are told that baby Jesus brings the tree - all decorated - and the presents. In reality it's the parents, and the older brothers or sisters who decorate the tree and put the presents underneath it. The younger ones get ready for the feast. When we are finished we open a window and ring a bell. Then the young ones are allowed in and it's a great sight that greets them." His voice was a bit wistful. "Yes... a large tree, all alight with real candles, bright glass balls, and presents underneath."
"Oh," I said and thought how strange that children were encouraged to believe stories that were not true. We too had saga's and stories but from the start we were told what was fact and what was embellishment.
Marek led me though a closed door. There stood a majestic tree, partially decorated with beautiful artwork. The smell of the fresh pine made my head feel light. I started to understand a bit of this human magic.
Before I left, their mother gave me a wrapped box of Christmas cookies, to take home, tradition she said.
I walked home, slowly. Glancing into the brightly lit windows. I saw families gathered round tables, silhouetted in the orange light of candles. Families sitting round the tree, the small ones passing the presents round.
I walked till
midnight. Sometimes encountering groups of human children standing at a door or walking on the street, singing with such joy that it penetrated my calm. I had lost all sense of time, I felt lost within myself. Suddenly all the church bells started ringing (and Prague has a lot of churches). The night came alive. People hurrying to mass. I stood still. Alone. An alien. Different.
An arm softly rested on my shoulders. I felt my father's essence, and through him my mother waiting for me to come home, and through them Vulcan and the connection that existed between the Vulcans and the Creator.
"T'chi'tire," Father, I whispered, ashamed of my emotional state.
"Do not be," he said, "What have you learned tonight."
"A first hand experience of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. But I am glad to be Vulcan."
A slight smile touched my father's face. He left his arm around me as we went home.