Stars blinked incessantly in the polar sky, as Santa Claus with Rudolph nuzzled comfortingly at his side, and the elves sat in a circle gazing at a crackling bonfire, staring at the half empty sack of Christmas mail in front of them. The old man's weathered face was crestfallen, and the pupils of his dark eyes mirrored his mood and the frigid atmosphere of the North Pole.

Shoulders drooping, he pushed a twig in the sparkling snow, tracing meaningless doodles.

Where were all the children? The `BIG DAY' was almost at hand, and all they had was a weak trickle of mail to show for all their efforts. The workshop bulged with carefully crafted toys, going nowhere.

"All of them couldn't have forgotten us, could they? It's got my head to thumpin''' he gestured to the elves. Geared up for their annual jaunt, the deer in the stable paced restlessly, their hooves pawing at the ground.

Mrs. Claus, drying her hands on her apron, spoke softly. "Maybe it's time....'' "Time for what?'' he queried.

"Time to retire....we're getting on, you know, and maybe we've lost our touch.'' "....Maybe they've outgrown us!'' "No!'' he spoke defiantly. "Can't believe that! I've got to go down and find out for myself. Something's wrong. They wouldn't all abandon us - not after all these years....'' He tried to be convincing.

He stood up, as all the pairs of eyes followed his ascent and tramping through the snow drifts to the stable.

"C'mon, Rudy, we're going down!'' He readied the small sleigh and Rudolph slipped eagerly into his harness and tinkling bells.

"Don't be too disappointed if I'm right.'' Mrs. Claus offered.

"Everything has it's time - and ours may have run out.'' She placed a warm blanket on his lap and tucked it in.

"We'll get some answers, my dear, and I'm not coming back until I do!'' He tugged at the reins and they leapt toward the stars.

Silence prevailed as thoughts kaleidoscoped through his troubled head.

"Which way. sir?'' Rudolph queried.

"Just head south - we'll let things take their course.'' he murmured. From the iceberg laden northern seas, they whizzed over the North Atlantic's moody swells. As they passed over the snaking Gulf Stream, the deer's attention was drawn to some debris scattered over several miles in the turbulent seas. His eyes widened and his red nose glowed brighter.

"Santa! Look's like a shipwreck below! Shall we go down?'' "Yes, lad, go!'' The sleigh swooped seaward. As they approached, they saw pieces of wood and empty boxes bobbing in the waves. "Must have just gone under...must have been a cargo vessel from the looks of the packages. What a shame...'' As they hovered and surveyed the remnants, Rudolph spotted a crate thrashing to and fro.

"Santa! Over there!'' he exclaimed.

The battered crate had become entangled with a flotation object and which had saved it from submerging. From within, he spotted movement.

As they drew near, his gaze was met by two frantic eyes, filled with fear.

"It's an animal - trapped in it's cage!'' he peered into the interior more intensely.

"Lucky creature! The sole survivor.'' Santa reached in his bag and threw his magic lasso around the crate, hauling it from the brine, seaweed clinging to it's bottom.

"We'll have to put down somewhere. Where's the nearest land, son?'' "Bermuda, sir.'' Rudy pointed to the sky, where the faint beam of Gibbs Hill Lighthouse swept across the heavens.

"Then Bermuda it is, Rudy.'' he nodded affirmatively as the sleigh headed eastward.

They fitted over the protective coral reefs that surrounded the island and landed on a secluded beach in the islands of Castle Harbour.

When they were safely anchored, the old man eagerly pried the remaining slats from the crate to examine it's contents.

Huddled on the wooden bottom, soaked and shivering, lay it's occupant.

"Santa!'' Rudy exclaimed "It's a deer! A white doe!'' She raised her grateful eyes to meet those of her rescuers.

Santa lifted her gently to the soft pink sand, where she sank, exhausted from her ordeal.

The old man wrapped the warm blanket around her and Rudolph moved to her side to comfort her.

"Well, I never...!!! Wonder what she was doing on that ship?'' She exchanged glances with the young buck and they communicated silently.

After a few moments of getting acquainted, Rudy explained to his master.

"She was being sent from her home in Europe to a park in the States when the storm launched it's fury and the freighter went down. She thanks you for her life.'' As she rose on wobbly legs to shake off the remaining salt water, Rudolph noticed her pure white coat, which glistened in the moonlight, like fresh fallen snow.

"Let's name her `Crystal', Santa. It's perfect for her!'' Her big eyes lowered in modesty, but she smiled in acceptance and delight.

"Crystal, it is!'' Santa agreed.

"Santa, can she come back home to the North Pole with us? She's homeless, now - nowhere to go!'' "We'll see, lad, we'll see -- perhaps we'll all be homeless, too without work next year...

"We'll rest here tonight, and tomorrow we'll see if we can find the children.

I've always had a soft spot for Bermuda. It's a special place, a cross-section of the world. Perhaps our answer's here...'' The pink glow of dawn silhouetted purple night clouds, as the suns rays crept over the horizon, reflecting on the balmy coral sea.

Santa stretched and drank in the bouquet of myriad tropical fragrances. he took off his red suit and went for a quick dip in the sea and made a sand castle as he awaited the wakening of his two animal friends.

Rudolph appeared from behind a clump of Bay grape branches and Crystal yawned from the blanket.

"Just being here makes me feel worth while, Rudy. This is a place that Time has been kind to. These children will remember me... Let's be off!'' Crystal joined Rudy in tandem harness and they skimmed over the white rooftops.

Santa peered through windows as they moved quietly, unseen.

To his dismay, in most of the homes, he saw the children he so loved, sitting on couches or the floor, with their eyes glued to television sets.

Their eyes stared transfixed, reflecting the flickering screens in their pupils. In some homes, they were magnetised to screens, connected to them by long cords, joysticks and remote devices. Always that same, hypnotic state.

Got to get inside Santa thought, as he sprinkled stardust over the trio, so they could observe invisible; unnoticed.

Once inside, he saw two boys and their father, entranced by a screen - `INTER-ACTIVE TV CATALOG' the screen read. He observed that they were using the TV set to select anything they wanted from the `electronic ordering machine', and the father was billing the items to his charge card, while dust collected on their bookshelves and writing paper.

Home after home, - it was the same - countless `Shopping Channels' and 1-800 numbers.

"Even in Bermuda...'' he shook his disbelieving head.

"Look, Santa,'' Rudy pointed to the TV, "you can even order a house on that Bermuda Realty show!'' "Guess the 21st century is upon us and all the old values will be gobbled up by `PAC-MAN'! "Mrs. Claus was right. Our time has come and gone. Now it's perfectly clear why so few have written letters. They don't need to write anymore -- just select a number and `ENTER'. It's an inevitable trend -- they can't go back!'' The deer consoled him as best they could. Rudolph looked knowingly at his master. Crystal wanted to help this man who had plucked her from a watery grave, but she, too, was filled with frustration.

After some agonising soul searching, she rationalised, "We can't stop progress, but perhaps we can do something to keep you in the `picture''' -- so to speak,'' she whispered to Rudolph. "I've got an idea!'' They moved close to Santa and she explained her plan.

"Might work.'' he admitted, hesitantly. "Anything's better than nothing. But we can't compromise our principles.'' They climbed aboard the sleigh once more and sped to the VSB Studios, where a stunned Mike Bishop opened the door and scratched his head as they marched past him. Dennis Sherwin did a double-take at their presence.

Hurried discussions ensued, and at their completion, a laden sleigh raced northward carrying two extra passengers and some heavy equipment.

It's return trip, after two days was shrouded in secrecy and furious activity at the studios, but when the dust had settled, smiles were abundant.

Once more the sleigh leapt into action. Laden with identical packages, gaily wrapped, Crystal and Rudolph made deliveries to each and every doorstep on the island.

As sleepy homeowners groped for their morning Royal Gazettes, they also found the `presents'. In each was a freshly-taped video, direct from the North Pole workshop, showing the elves hard at work producing a bounty of toys, Mrs.

Claus in her kitchen, baking goodies for sale, and Santa, himself, bedecked in his red and white finery, displaying his wares.

A toll-free `HOTLINE' number flashed red and green on the screen, `1-800-GO NORTH' -- `or P.O. Box 25 North Pole' (for those who still remembered the lost art of `READING'!).

It has been said that the Mail Bag soon bulged once more, and the phone lines to the North paled the Northern Lights! -- and `Rudolph, with his nose so bright' and Crystal, his new found `mate', with her shimmering white coat, lit up the skies like fleeting comets on their deliveries that Christmas Night!