[ WP ] He sees you when you 're sleeping . He knows when you 're awake . And Santa , low on funds to pay his elves , has begun selling his surveillance data to the NSA .

Santa looked around at the squalor his ice paradise had become. With the boom in population, he'd had to shell out billions on bigger factories and automation. He still could n't meet the demand for more and more toys. He could feel his power waning as less children believed in him, and it was that power that had enabled him to sustain his earlier operations. 
 
 In the early 1800s, he'd established dozens of shell corporations to funnel his factory construction and logistic costs through. With the population booming, he'd even had to farm out his surveillance duties to the elves. He'd never asked exactly how they'd accomplished it, he just did the double checking now. 
 
 The elves were starving. He could n't afford to feed them, or even himself, enough any more. He usually ran out of power by January 2nd, and did n't get any back until the first tree lit up in November. He'd been trying to push Christmas earlier each year with Black Friday, and most recently Cyber Monday, but even that had n't proved enough to save him. 
 
 Mrs. Clause left him for the Kwanzaa guy 10 years ago after she could n't take it any more. The stress, the starvation, the constant work had eroded the bonds of their marriage. 
 
 To put it simply, Santa was desperate. His last option was to sell the only valuable thing he had: information. 
 ___________________________________________________ 
 
 A man and woman in sharp black suits sat across from the saddest thing they'd ever seen. His beard was wired, gray, and falling out in patches. His hair was almost entirely gone. He wore red sweatpants and a red sweatshirt that looked three sizes too large. They were sitting across from each other in a sunny park in Alexandria, Virginia. 
 
 `` Sir'' the woman said, `` How can we help you?'' 
 
 The fat man looked nervous, embarrassed. He stuttered out his reply, `` I.. I have something you might want.'' 
 
 The suited man leaned forward slightly, `` We're listening.'' 
 
 Santa pulled out a USB drive, an innocuous device that he was treating like a stick of lit dynamite. `` This is everything I know. About everyone.'' 
 
 The two across from him looked at each other, slightly surprised. `` Sir'', the man this time `` where do you think that came from?'' 
 
 Santa looked confused, a frown even bigger than the one he had before developed. `` I do n't know, the elves...'' 
 
 The suits were shocked, alarmed even. `` Mr. Clause..'' she clearly was n't sure how to explain it to him. `` I'm not sure how to tell you this, but we already have that.'' 
 
 Santa was terrified, he looked around for an escape, trying to run. The woman spoke up before he did, `` Sir, please, you have to know. The agency would like you to come back.'' 
 
 `` Back?'' 
 
 `` Yes sir.'' The man this time, his voice slightly shaky. `` I ca n't believe they did n't tell you, but... you're the founder of the NSA.''
