THE SNOW GLOBE

The city has been transformed into a Christmas wonderland. Wreaths adorn front doors, garlands decorate windowsills, and fairy lights twinkle overhead. The lights are reflected in the glass bubble that surrounds the city and protects us from the poisonous air outside, multiplying the number of lights above us. 

A small dusting of snow has settled on the outside of the bubble, turning the city into a kind of topsy-turvy snow globe, with the snow on the outside instead of in. 

Sebastian’s eyes are wide, taking in all the beauty and magic of Christmas. He skips along as he holds my hand. I can see his grin peeking out from under the cloth mask that covers his mouth. 

I, on the other hand, am not so excited. This is our first Christmas without Mamá and Papá. We’ll barely be able to afford a meal and certainly not a Christmas feast. My heart aches when I think about how disappointed Sebastian will be on Christmas morning when there are no presents sitting under a Christmas tree. There won’t even be a tree, except for the one in the main square of The Nix. 

Sebastian’s been talking about Santa for days—of course he has—there are pictures of Santa and his reindeer everywhere across the city. 

Sebastian stops walking and stares at a picture of Santa in his open sleigh, flying through the night sky. 

“Martina?” Sebastian frowns. “When Santa flies around the world, why doesn’t he get sick? He isn’t wearing a hazsuit to protect him against all the diseases.” 

I grin and ruffle Sebastian’s hair. He’s a smart kid for a five-year-old. 

“Don’t worry, hermanito. Santa is magic! How else could he travel the world and visit every home in every bubble city, in only one night? His magic protects him and he doesn’t get sick.” 

Sebastian’s mouth drops open in awe. “I wish I was magic and would never get sick!” 

“Me too,” I say, “instead we must take our meds every day! We wouldn’t want to catch any nasty diseases, would we?”

***

It’s Christmas Eve and instead of a big family dinner at home with our parents, we’re at the diner to eat whatever we can afford, which isn’t much. I eye the roast turkey on display behind the counter, my mouth watering while I look at the succulent white meat, but order us stringy wings instead. At least it’s technically still turkey. It doesn’t come with cranberry sauce or stuffing, just overcooked broccoli. 

After getting our food, we take our plates to a spare table and remove our cloth masks, then fold our hands in front of us in a quiet prayer of thanks. Sebastian digs in to his meal immediately. I take a second to look at the pathetic dish. It might be turkey, but it doesn’t look very Christmassy. 

A woman cleaning tables nearby catches my eye and before I can look away, she’s heading in our direction. 

“Hello. Good health,” she says. She wears a face mask with a reindeer printed on it. A big red polka dot on her nose suggests she’s Rudolf. Despite the mask, I see she has a friendly face of someone in their middle age. Her nametag says, “Rosa.” I’ve seen her working in here before, but I’ve never spoken to her. Even now I don’t respond. I just stare at her, waiting for her to say something else or leave us alone. 

“¿Hola? ¿Hablan inglès?” She tries again. 

I figure she isn’t going away, so I respond, “Yes, we speak English.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Martina.” 

“Is this your brother?” She nods at Sebastian, who is ignoring her, too busy eating his meal. 

“Yes.” I’m waiting for her to ask where our parents are and I steel myself in preparation for the question. It’s not something I want to talk about. 

Instead, she says, “You look after him very well.” 

I nod. 

Her eyes crinkle in a smile before leaving us alone. Sebastian has almost finished his food and is eyeing up my untouched turkey wing. I take a bite out of it. Sebastian watches as I chew and swallow, his chest falling a little in disappointment. My heart aches and instead of finishing the sinewy piece, I give it to Sebastian, who eagerly rips into it. 

I roll my eyes when I see Rosa heading in our direction again. I wish she would leave us alone. 

“No one should be hungry at Christmas,” she says as she places two dinner rolls on the table. “It’s not much, but I hope it helps.” She disappears again before I have a chance to refuse her charity or thank her. Sebastian’s hand shoots out and snaps up one of them. He’s still hungry after our pitiful meal.

***

“Where are we going?” Sebastian asks later. 

“It’s a surprise,” I respond. 

At my job earlier in the week, I caught a glimpse of something that gave me a brilliant idea. I work as a window washer, one of the few jobs that sends people outside the bubble city. Of course, we wear hazsuits when we go out, so we don’t die from the diseases. 

On Wednesday, it was a rare occasion where we’d been assigned to wash the bubble surrounding The Nix quarter. The Nix bubble is filthy because there’s not enough wealth in the quarter to fund cleaning it, but supposedly some rich do-gooder from the Sparkle Sector funded it or something. They probably think they’re being charitable for Christmas. As if we’d be able to get the entire Nix bubble clean in only a day. We only managed a small portion of it. 

But as I cleaned the filth away and could finally see inside, I spotted a small gap between the Christmas display in Nixo square and the toy store—about the size two children could crawl through if they were inclined. 

I may not be able to give toys to Sebastian for Christmas, but I can take him to the toys. If only for a night. 

Now it’s late on Christmas Eve. Late enough that Santa could be flying across the skies by now. The bubble city is dark, except for some fairy lights still glittering. We’re at the end of a street that leads to the glass dome of the bubble city. Right where the toy store is located. 

“Keep quiet, okay?” I whisper to Sebastian. He peers up with those big brown eyes, looking apprehensive, but he nods. 

I look around to make sure no one is nearby before lying flat on my stomach and wiggling through the gap in the Christmas display that leads to the toy store. 

I hear Sebastian giggle quietly at my disappearing feet. 

The tree looms over me and fake presents squeeze in from either side, but it’s not long until I’m through. 

Spinning back, I whisper through the gap to Sebastian, “Now it’s your turn.” 

Sebastian copies me, laying on his stomach and wriggling into the gap under the tree and between the presents. As his arms appear, I grab them and pull Sebastian through, sliding him in on his tummy. He giggles again. 

It’s darker inside the toy shop. All the Christmas lights that flash during the day have been turned off. The only light I can see is the green exit sign on the other side of the store. I use the light on my comms unit to navigate our way around the displays and find fun toys to play with. 

There are trucks and dolls, games and puzzles, stuffed animals and teddy bears. Sebastian finds a train set on display and pushes the train around the track, making little chugging noises and occasionally a “woo woo” for the whistle. 

I’m a little too old for toys now, but I join in by moving a car around the set, stopping at the railway crossing while waiting for Sebastian’s train to go by. 

It would be nice if the real world was still like this. No sterilised buses, cars, and trains. The freedom to travel around without hazsuits. These toys are the closest thing to life like that, remnants of a period from hundreds of years ago before the global pandemic. 

Next we find a bouncing ball and take turns throwing it to each other and bouncing it off the wall. Sebastian is so clumsy and keeps losing it under some shelves. He has to wiggle in under them to retrieve it, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps on laughing. 

It’s the happiest I’ve seen him since Colombia. 

I smile as well as I watch his little bottom disappear again under the shelf, his feet flailing behind him, while reaching for the ball. It’s wonderful to see him be a kid again. He’s had to grow up so quickly these last few months as we’ve struggled to survive in this new city, without parents, and very little money. He got so skinny that his ribs stuck out. At least now that we’re both working we have a little more money for food, but it isn’t much of a childhood for Sebastian. 

I wish I could take some toys back to our sleeping pod with us, but I won’t steal them. No matter how hard things get, I won’t resort to stealing. I wouldn’t disrespect the memory of my parents that way. They raised us to know better than that. And although sneaking into the toy store isn’t allowed, I also know we’re not hurting anyone by doing it. 

Sebastian tires of the ball when he spots toy guns that shoot plastic bullets. He hands one to me. 

“Prepare for destruction!” He bellows before running behind a shelf for cover. I shoot in his direction anyway. A battle unfolds. We chase each other around shelves and displays, jumping over toys and teddies in the dim light projected from my comms unit. 

I trip and go sprawling. 

“Are you okay?” Sebastian stops running and comes to check on me. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say rolling over and dusting my hands off. 

“In that case—” Sebastian takes a fighting stance and shoots. I duck my head as he laughs like a mad man, shooting me several times at close range. The soft plastic bullets bounce off my chest harmlessly. 

“I’m gonna get you,” I say, laughing as I raise my own gun and start climbing to my feet. 

The bang of a door silences us. We freeze as we strain our ears, listening for any sign of movement. But it’s our eyes that reveal we’re not alone. Two beams of light from handheld torches stream across the store. 

Sebastian and I drop, keeping low to the ground in the hope they haven’t spotted us yet. I crawl to my comms unit and switch off the light. 

“Who’s there?” Someone shouts. We don’t wait to find out who. We scramble to the small gap, keeping low the whole time. But whoever is here can hear our movements and is coming closer. 

“Go!” I whisper hoarsely to Sebastian, pushing him through the tiny gap. 

I see the light coming round the corner of the shelves, about to find me crouching there. I dive through the gap, and wiggle furiously through. A hand reaches in between the fake presents, but misses my shoe by inches. 

Once I’m on the other side, I jump to my feet, grab Sebastian’s hand, and run. 

We don’t stop until we’re almost back to our pod. I’m out of breath and my heart is pounding like a sledgehammer on my ribcage. 

But Sebastian is laughing. 

“Your face when you fell!” Sebastian says between giggles. “I got you good!” 

Even though I’m exhausted, I smile. 

“You little pandejo!” I call him an idiot and ruffle his hair.

***

In the morning it’s Christmas Day. Santa will have visited all the other children, but poor Sebastian will only have his memories of the toy store to cheer him. Or so I thought. 

When I open the door to our pod, I’m surprised to find two red socks hanging from the door frame. Not stockings, just plain old socks with frayed threads coming loose and patched-up holes on the heels. One has a tag that says “Sebastian” and the other says “Martina.” 

“Where did they come from, Martina?” Sebastian asks. 

I shrug. The tags don’t say who they’re from. “Maybe they’re from Santa.” 

Sebastian pulls his down and opens it. His face splits with his smile. 

“It’s a toy car,” he says, holding it high. 

My heart fills with warmth when I look in mine and find a small Christmas snow globe and two dinner rolls.