Carol for Another Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

have done it on purpose. It was beginning to break up, to dissolve into snow, which was what was making it hiss, she thought. “You’re missssing the point . . . point . . . point.” The hiss was now accompanied by an echo and a blurring of Doug’s snowy features.
    â€œDoug! Don’t you dare just leave me like this! You have some explaining to do!”
    She touched the keyboard, thinking there must be some command that could clarify her brother’s image and speech, but her fingers were still inches from the keys when a jolt of static electricity knocked her backward. It was then that she noticed that the whole room was filled with static snow, just like the computer screen, and while her clothing clung to her in pools and ripples and her nylons crackled, the hairs on her skin and head stood straight up, tingling and quivering with the charge.
    â€œMoni, I haven’t got long,” the image said, resolving again. “And neither have you. You need to pay attention. We’ve both always needed to pay attention. I am not a dream. I am not a problem with your monitor. I am not a problem with your reception. Please do not attempt to adjust your terminal again. I am a ghost, Sis.” At least he had stopped hissing.
    â€œThe ghost in the machine, I presume?” she asked tartly.
    He asked, a little annoyed at her denseness, which had been his usual tone when he was alive, “Where else would I haunt? Where else did I ever spend any time? I spent all my life turning my back on the world, looking into computers, and now it looks like I’m doomed to spend my afterlife inside a computer looking out at what I missed. Only problem is, of course, most places the computer doesn’t offer much of a vantage point for all the things I’m supposed to have done, like enjoying Christmas and cherishing my loved ones.”
    â€œCherishing your loved ones? Give me a break! You never cared about anything except your project of the moment while you were alive, and you seemed perfectly happy. Why should you regret that, now that you’re dead, for heaven’s sake? Do they make you go through therapy when you die?”
    â€œNo, but you’re stuck for all eternity with the choices you made in life. This is not just a phase I’m going through, being inside a computer. Except for this one time, I am doomed to haunt terminals. I give a whole new meaning to the term vaporware . I ride the Ethernet forever, the—er—man who never returned.” A deep sigh came through the computer like a gust of wind that rattled the vertical window blinds and blew Monica’s hair straight back.
    â€œWell, yes, fine, but why bring it up now? I have work to do, you know.”
    â€œBecause it’s Christmas, and you shouldn’t be working. You should be . . . um . . . rejoicing?”
    â€œOh, really? And what’s what I do with Christmas got to do with you being dead and fouling up the business you left me by haunting valuable memory space?”
    â€œBecause, Sister dearest , Christmas has always been about second chances. And I’m here to give you yours, which will maybe give me mine. So I hope you’ll pay attention and not blow it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean ‘second chances’?”
    â€œDid you think the kid in the manger was thought up by the heavenly merchandising department just to create a boom market in crèches and Chinese-made tinsel stars and treetop angels that say at programmable intervals, ‘Unto us a child is born!’ I think not. I’ve learned a thing or two since I’ve been dead, and let me tell you, it’s come as a shock to me. The deal is, that kid came to give the world a second chance, take it or leave it. Use it or lose it. No pain, no gain. And it’s not just a churchy thing, Sis. It’s about looking out for one another and paying attention to other people for reasons other than to see what