Santa Company 2029

My employee ID is 1000305406. 

My work location is Amazon Fulfillment Center ATL6.

My shift starts at six in the morning and ends at six at night.

For twelve hours of putting random small online orders into soft plastic bags, and occasionally changing out the hundred pound roll of SmartPac bagging machine bags, I earn $730.80 a week. But the thing is I don’t actually receive $730.80, because after paying rent, utilities, groceries, gasoline, the car payment, I’m back to zero.

Every day after work, I collapse on my couch from exhaustion and wake up the next morning before dawn to eat yesterday’s dinner and get ready for the day. I would tell you my name, but names are for people who matter. I don’t matter, and if I did matter, and that’s a big if, then I certainly won’t matter soon. After the strikes, The company cut ninety percent of warehouse staff globally. I was one of the lucky ones. I kept my head down and kept working through the strikes. Now I’m one of the last human fulfillment center employees left in ATL6. They brought in the clankers during the strikes. Yes, clankers worked slower, but a slow clanker was better than a striking human. After eight months of strikes, eight months of clankers organically learning how to put things into bags, the company didn’t need the strikers anymore. Today a clanker averages forty bags per minute. I average forty-two. Everyday they get faster and I get wearier.

I know what you’re thinking, why don’t you get a different job? Well, welcome to the winter of 2029. Clankers fry your McDonald french fries, they work on construction sites, stock Walmart shelves, and the trucks drive themselves. It feels like there are no jobs left, and keeping this job is all I can do to keep from moving in with my parents in their shanty town just south of the international airport.

I have no friends, no pets, no plants, and no AI partner. I tried the free version but it quickly fell into a death loop. I have no hopes, no dreams, and no plans. On my day off, I sleep and watch TikTok before starting the week again. I sometimes think that if I disappeared from the Earth tomorrow, no one would notice. I’m nobody. I’m just employee number 1000305406.

Today is just like every other day, except cold and rainy. I walk up the stairs to my studio apartment and open the door. A small silver business card delicately falls from the doorframe, catching the air and twirling on its way to the floor. I lock my door behind me and pick up the card. It’s unexpectedly cool to the touch and shimmers in the dim light. The front of the card shows a beautifully designed raised snowflake with the letters S.C. flanking left and right of the snowflake. The back of the card showed a local phone number. Could this be an advertisement for a job? What could this possibly be? It hasn’t snowed in Atlanta for years so the snowflake branding is an interesting choice.

I dial the phone number. It rings for a second, then connects to the other line. No one speaks at first. I say into the empty call, “Hello?”

“Marcelline Willis?” Replies a professional male voice in a distinguished British accent.

“Uh, yes. This is Marcy. How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“You’re looking for an escape. Yes? You need money? I have a special opportunity for you. Get something to write this down. Are you ready?”

“Wait, hold on. This sounds really sketchy. Are you some kind of criminal?”

“Do you have something to write with?”

“Yes…” I replied hesitantly.

“349 Forest Parkway. 8 pm tonight. Be there.” The voice then hung up the phone.

I immediately dial the number a second time hoping for some more thorough explanation. “I’m sorry. The number you dialed has been disconnected. Goodbye.” And just like that, the call ended itself.

I know this address. 349 Forest Parkway is an abandoned warehouse only a five minute drive from where I live. But this couldn’t be happening. Not to me. I’m nobody. Then, thoughts on my parents flood my head. They’re living in a sheet metal shack in the forest. This will be their first winter without a home, and dad is sick. I need this money, whatever it is. If it can help dad, I’ll do whatever this mysterious S.C. wants.

I hop into my car and drive through empty rainswept streets to the abandoned warehouse. Stepping out into the rain with my second-hand peacoat, I jump to the blaring sound of an ambulance speeding down the nearby stroad, its siren fading into the distance. Approaching a half-open truck door, I look inside. Under the light of a single lightbulb sits two luxurious armchairs facing each other. A person’s elbows dressed in a bright red fabric rest lightly on the chair facing away from me.

I strut with fake bravado into the large cavernous warehouse and approach the chairs. Rounding the corner, I see a small man sipping a cup of Yorkshire Tea wearing a cheerfully red suit and candy-cane striped tie. Without speaking or standing, he looks at me and gestures with his free hand for me to sit in the chair across from him. As I sit in the most comfortable chair I have ever felt in my life, The mystery man finishes the cup of tea in one loud sip and sets it down on an empty side table.

“Miss Willis, it is a pleasure to meet you. You may call me Helper.”

“Your name is… Helper?”

“No of course not, that would be tremendously silly, haha!” Helper’s voice trails off in a low chuckle before continuing. “Helper is my codename, you see my identity is a secret, and if you accept this opportunity, you will also need a codename.”

“I’m listening.” I say as coolly as possible.

“My client is seeking your skills in a very delicate matter.” Helper then produces a manilla file folder seemingly from out of nowhere and tosses it to me like a frisbee. The words TOP SECRET are stamped across the face of the folder. Untying the string and reaching into the contents, I pull out a bundle of papers including maps, photos of people and buildings, Amazon buildings… AWS.

“You want me to break into an Amazon data center?”

“Oh no. My client wants you to break into an Amazon data center. You see, our organization recently lost a critical piece of data and this data is stored in one of these server racks. You will be working with a team to infiltrate-”

“Hold on now. I haven’t agreed to anything yet. This is very illegal stuff you’re asking me to do. I could go to jail for years!”

“My dear Marcy. Please try to understand the importance of this mission. If you don’t help us, Christmas may not happen this year.”

“You have to be kidding me right now. Are you high on something? Am I tripping?”

Helper lifts a full cup of tea from the table and says “I am perfectly serious about all of this. I know with certainty that the success of Christmas this year depends on if you help us.”

“Wait a second, that cup was empty. Now it’s full… I don’t see a teapot.”

Helper finishes a sip of tea and quietly replies “Excuse me?”

Not able to comprehend the situation, I think back to my day at work. Is this real? Did I touch something laced with LSD on my way home? The doorknob maybe?

“And that folder, were you sitting on it the whole time you waited for me?”

“Sitting on it? My dear, let’s focus on what’s truly important here. You need cash. Correct? We will happily pay you five thousand upon accepting the job, and another ten thousand once the package is delivered. Fifteen thousand dollars would be more than enough to get poor old mum and dad into a warm flat and there would be enough left over to send your dad to therapy. Now that is quite the offer. Is it not?”

“What is this… package?”

A sly smile spreads across Helper’s face. “Marcy, do you believe in magic?”

“What does magic have to do with any of this?”

“Everything. Christmas magic specifically. The package is a detailed list of every child in the world along with their levels of Christmas spirit as calculated by our company’s algorithm, and their most compatible Christmas gift.”

I take out the silver business card and study it closely.

“S.C.” I mutter under my breath. “You represent Santa Claus?”

“Technically speaking, I represent Santa Company. Santa Claus as you know him is the CEO of Santa Company.”

My heart begins to race. Helper’s words fade and I feel myself going into a panic attack. A thunderclap from outside snaps me out of my episode. I stand up quickly from the comfort of the chair, feeling the blood rush from my head almost making me faint.

“You’re not real. This isn’t happening. This is a dream right? I have no skills. I’m a nobody!”

Helper stands up from his chair and walks over to me. He grabs my elbows from his short height and pleads with me. “Marcy! You simply must get a hold of yourself. This isn’t a dream! This is all real! You have a chance to save Christmas for children all over the world!”

“Where is your teacup?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your teacup. You were just drinking from it. It’s not on the chair, the table, or the floor. Where did it go?”

“Ah, um, well you see…”

“I have to go.” I bolt for the exit as fast as I can. Only feet away from freedom, the cargo door slams itself shut as if moved by an enormous gust of wind. I try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge.

“I’m sorry Marcy, but I can’t let you leave. Not yet. Not after all that I’ve told you.”

“You’re kidnapping me!” I reach for my phone and dial 911. The call fails with not enough bars of cell coverage.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this but you’ve left me no alternative.” says Helper before opening his palm in front of his mouth and blowing a swirling cloud of sparkling dust into my face. To the distant sound of sirens, thunder, and raindrops, my world fades to black.