Carol for Another Christmas by Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

Kwanzaa, but I’m usually just finishing up a big project and try to go to Tahiti instead,” Sheryl said.
    â€œWell, I’m Buddhist, but my family still has a big gathering with a tree, and I wish I was there instead of freezing my butt off here, half starving, and talking to a computer screen,” Curtis said. He snapped his fingers suddenly. “Hey, I’ve got it! Maybe this is an interactive phone call that’s been patched in here—”
    â€œCurtis, we turned off the system and looked under the hood,” Phillip told him. “If someone had cross-wired a video phone, we’d know about it by now. We have here an unexplained communications system using a seasonal avatar to give us a Christmas freakout. Maybe it’s Wayne, after all, but if so, he’s onto something we haven’t even thought about yet.”
    â€œSo, come on, gramps, give. Who are you really?” Sheryl asked.
    â€œI told you, I’m Ebenezer Scrooge. In person—well, in a manner of speaking. I used to manage properties in London, you see, and was very good at it, except that I—”
    â€œWe know who Ebenezer Scrooge is,” she said impatiently. “What we want to know is, who’s behind that wrinkly mask. Cause whoever it is, he or she is jamming our system when we’ve got work to do.”
    â€œI assure you, my dear young lady, there is no one behind me.”
    â€œSomething’s going on above him, though. Oh! Look! It’s an icon that says, “Program Manager,” like on the early Windows Op Systems. But I’ve never seen one shaped like a tricorder and all gold and glowy in Gonzo-gothic script like that!” John said.
    And abruptly the room and all its inhabitants melted away like snowflakes.

Eight

    Monica Banks did not look pleased to see Scrooge again, but he hadn’t supposed she would. So when she reached for the button this time, he was prepared. He knew she could not shut him out if he did not wish it.
    â€œNow, now, my dear girl, that simply will not do,” he said, waggling his finger at her when she tried it, without so much as a “How do you do” or a “Merry Christmas.” “You don’t really want me to go, my dear. You see, I begin to understand my purpose here now, and it’s very much in your best interests that I be here.”
    â€œDo tell,” she said. “And what might that be, pray? Other than to hold up production and bankrupt my company, that is. And don’t call me ‘girl’ or ‘dear.’ I won’t be patronized in my own company.”
    â€œNo, indeed,” Scrooge said. “I should say not. Perish the thought. Well then, esteemed madam, if it pleases you or if it does not, I am here for your benefit.”
    â€œYou bring a ghostly piece of programming that will make my project run?” she asked. “Because that’s all I want out of anybody.”
    â€œThat seems very little to ask, whatever it is,” he said. “But first, let me say that now I do quite understand your discomfiture at my presence. Something quite similar happened to me once, and it was very upsetting. Very. But instructive. You see, Miss Banks, I believe I am either to announce the visit of three ghosts—”
    â€œBeen there, done that!” she snapped. “I already had a dream where my brother’s ghost was announcing the visit of . . . ohmigod.” The snappiness drained out of her and she slumped in her chair. “Another ghost.”
    â€œVery well. That narrows the field considerably. Then I must be the ghost of Christmas Past.”
    â€œWait a minute. He said you’d be coming three times.”
    â€œWill I now? How odd. I received visitations from three specters, myself—four altogether, if you count Marley, and since counting was Marley’s life, I believe one must indeed count Marley.”
    â€œDoug’s ghost didn’t tell