Page 37 of Nice

I stretch a bit, trying to suss out exactly how I feel. Asmon won't let me leave the room, but I feel perfectly fine. Better than ever, in fact. Easing out of bed, I pad my way over to a door in the corner. Thank goodness it's a bathroom. After I finish relieving myself, I wash my hands in the sink and take a good look at my face in the mirror. Nothing really looks all that different. If anything, I look a bit healthier than the last time I saw myself.

It makes me a little sad that I don't have some visible sign that I'm bound to Asmon. Blowing out a puff of air, I walk back into the room to find Asmon still sleeping. I look around, trying to see if there's anything for me to do. I'm not used to just resting. It's boring. Sitting in a nearby chair, I bounce my foot a little, my brain whirling. So many things still feel unanswered. I really need to look at that list again.

Glancing back over at Asmon, he appears dead to the world. Maybe if I wake him up, he'll grab the list for me. I tiptoe over to him and shake his shoulder, not wanting to startle him. Instead of waking up, he gives an obnoxious snore and rolls over. Rolling my eyes, I shove against him again. When he doesn't move, I inch my way over to the door. It's not my fault that he didn't wake up.

I test the doorknob, half expecting it to be locked. When it turns with ease, I smile at my good fortune and slip out into the hall. Crap. I look both ways, remembering how much of a maze this place is. Turning to the right, I continue down that hall until I hear some voices. Up ahead, I see two elves giggling as they spruce up some poinsettias.

"Excuse me, but I'm supposed to meet Kris in his study." The lie slides off my tongue. "Can you point me in the right direction?"

Giggling again, the one closest to me motions for me to follow her. Thankfully, I have a guide because after several turns, I'm already lost. She motions towards a door, curtsies, then takes off down the hall. I lean in close and lay my ear on the door. There are no sounds inside, but that doesn't mean it's unoccupied. The doorknob is cold in my hand as I grip it. Sweat prickles the back of my neck.

Easing the door open, I peek inside before opening it all the way. There's a lit fire, but nothing else. Scouring the room, I see no sign of the list. Damn it. I stand in front of the massive bookshelf and start looking through all the titles. Nothing. I do one more look through, this time actually seeing the types of books Kris collects. A massive tomb with the name "Ghost of Christmas Past" stands out from the rest. Curious, I tug on it, about to slide it out when the whole bookshelf swings inward.

A thrill of anticipation slides through my body as I ease my way in. A soft red glow illuminates the entire room, all of it coming from what looks like a computer monitor in the center. I walk over, trying to my hardest to keep silent. There's nothing on the screen except a red light. I look about, not seeing a mouse or keyboard. Frowning, I slide my finger across the screen, making it come to life.

An algorithm like I've never seen before scrolls up at lighting speed. What I can catch are various names and dates. I touch the screen again, this time dragging my finger downward. The whole screen freezes and names scroll up one by one. Fascinated, I play with the screen using various finger motions resulting in varied results until I come across a screen that vaguely resembles a back-door access. I read through the code, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. It appears to be a log of some sort.

Everything looks consistent with similar login and logouts over the past several years. Until this year. There's a login from the beginning of the month like normal, followed by another a couple weeks after that. Looking up, I see that in the past, there's been one login at the beginning with another login within days of the first, with no other logins until the day before Christmas Eve. It's odd. Why would there be an additional login that late? Though I haven't known Kris long, he certainly seems the type to snooze on the job.

What this data shows is consistent with the idea of making the list then checking it twice. Double tapping on the other login, I follow the streams of code, clicking and swiping until I discover its location. It didn't come from this system. Someone else fiddled with the list. Looking through the original log, it seems that only one entry was changed. A few more swipes, and it reveals my name. Whoever went into the system changed me from nice to naughty. But why? Who would do such a thing?

Swiping back out of it, I return to the main screen. Under each name is a list of either Naughty or Nice. When clicking those, it shows exactly why someone should be on that list. It takes a bit, but I find my name in the sea of Caitlins. Underneath my name, clear as day is Naughty. I click on it, and there’s not a lot underneath it. On other lists, it shows both naughty and nice traits. Here, there's this small segment of naughty.

A thought percolates through my brain as I continue to muck about. heading over to the settings, I notice that my instinct is correct. Under the printing options, it shows Nice/Neutral as being light red and Naughty as being dark red. With a printout like that it would be super easy to miss a mistake. I go over to Nice and change the settings to print out as green. After a few clicks, a box pops up asking if I want to print a sample copy.

I dart a look around, seeing that I'm still alone, and press "okay." If I wasn't on the naughty list before, I’m certain I'm on there now. A soft whir to my left alerts me to the printed page. Seeing my name with a bright green border and just a few streaks of dark red fills me with joy. Surely this will help with these mistakes in the future. Clutching the paper to my chest, I do a little happy dance in the cramped area.

"Just what in the first day of Christmas are you doing in my private chambers?"

My blood turns to ice as I freeze in place. A bright light illuminates the room, making me blink several times as I try to adjust. Kris prowls towards me, his face set in stone. I gulp and back up, trying to find a way to squeeze past him.

"It's bad enough you didn't want me. I would have gotten over that eventually, but to defile my sacred area? That is way too far."

"You were hacked," I blurt out, trying to ease his wrath. "I don't know how, and I don't know why. But you were. There's a login. It's not from here. But I fixed it. Well not the code, but I've made it easier on you. See?"

I thrust out the paper, holding it between us as a peace offering. Kris snatches it out of my and studies it for a moment before leveling a glare at me.

"How do you know how to operate my system? No one has ever touched this computer that's not a Claus."

Shrugging, I turn to the screen. "I've been known to hack."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back down at my name.

"No. Not like that hacking. I've never done anything wrong with it. I look for loopholes. Things people miss. Ways to make the system better. It's not like I embezzle money or trade in state secrets."

Nodding, he squeezes his way past me and fiddles with the screen for a few moments before sighing in frustration. Eventually, he turns to me and motions for me to stand next to him.

"Show me."

Over the next few minutes, I run through what I found, watching his face intently. Either he really has no clue about this or he's the best actor in the world. Judging by the rage pouring off him, I'm putting money on the first.

"This doesn't look like our bed, young lady."

The throaty voice startles me out of my thoughts, turning, I give Asmon a sheepish smile.

"How did you find me?"

Snorting, Kris stares at the screen, a smile crossing his lips. "He's part animal, what do you think?"