It was late in December, and shoppers were busy finding last minute gifts for all of their friends and relatives. Mary, though, had no time for the seasonal bustle. She had to travel to the little town of Bethlehem for taxes or something. The weather forecast called for snow, and she was nine-months pregnant, but taxes don't care about that kind of thing. So Mary, and her husband Joseph, got on their donkey and were driving to Bethlehem on Christmas Eve.

Of course, finding a hotel room on Christmas Eve proved tricky. Everyone's out-of-town relatives were in for the holidays, and they had filled up every room, even at the shady-looking motel run by the Pakistani family. By then, the snow was starting to accumulate, and Mary's water had broken. In desperation, they sought shelter in a barn with no front wall, a cow on one side, a horse on the other, and a manger in the middle. There was just enough space for one of them to stand on each side of the manger.

Out in the mountains, sheep were searching for grass in the snow. One of them said to the shepherd boy, "Do you see what I see?" The boy looked, and noticed a choir of angels, playing harps and singing Christmas carols. He asked what was going on, and they told him that Jesus was in Bethlehem. He got the other shepherds, and the sheep, and they went to the address the angels had given them.

Meanwhile, things were dicey at Herod's castle. Three oriental kings had shown up and demanded to see baby Jesus, because they had heard about him from a star. The guards lowered the drawbridge and let them in, but no one could find Jesus anywhere in the castle. Finally, they asked some people who had paid attention when the Christmas story was read at church, and  they said that baby Jesus was supposed to be in Bethlehem.

The three kings got back on their camels and drove to Bethlehem. They had to drive slowly, due to all the snow, and so they arrived  after the shepherds and the little drummer boy. Fortunately, the star turned into a spotlight that pointed at Jesus, so they found him easily. They went in and saw baby Jesus in the manger. There was a glowing circle around his head that lit up the whole barn. By then, Mary had completely recovered from childbirth and was standing next  to the manger. The kings gave gold and some other stuff to baby Jesus. Then they all bowed down around the manger and prayed to him.

They stayed at the manger to watch the ball drop on New Year's Eve, and then the shepherd went to tell it on the mountains, over the hills, and everywhere. And they all lived happily ever after.

Dear Miss,

I don't make a habit of responding to all of the correspondence we receive here at the North Pole, but in this case I feel I must make an exception. You appear to some misapprehension about what it is we do here. In case you have forgotten, I have included a copy of the text from your original letter below, with my own comments at places I feel need clarified.

I am glad to see that you understand that good behavior should be rewarded. However, our target audience dictates that we specialize in toys rather than luxury goods. It is also against our ethical guidelines to deal in animal pelts.

Santa baby, a '54 convertible too, light blue;

Here at the North Pole, we build all items from scratch when requested. Vintage items are not kept in stock. Once again, I must mention that our focus is children, particularly the disadvantaged.

It is against our policies to enter a house while anyone remains awake. We feel it keeps everything simpler.

Think of all the fun I've missed; Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed;

I'll admit, this one stumped me. However, I had a team of my best elf investigators look into it further, and they were able to come up with a list of twelve possible names.

Next year I could be just as good... if you check off my Christmas list

Christmas gifts are given as a reward for good behavior in the previous year, not as a bribe to ensure good behavior in the next. I realize this concept may be new to you, as my records indicate you have never held a job.

Santa baby, I want a yacht and really that's not a lot;

Actually, it is.

Been an angel all year; Santa baby,

I have checked my list twice, and feel there must be an accounting error on your side. According to our records, you have been vain, abusive, and manipulative all year.

So hurry down the chimney tonight.

Santa honey, one little thing I really need...

Given all the children around the world who are actually in need, I feel that I must disagree with your using that word in this context.

Platinum? You strike me more as a gold digger.

We do not use any currency here. Bringing joy to children is all the riches we require.

Come and trim my Christmas tree with some decorations bought at Tiffany's;

Decorating your tree is your own responsibility.

While belief is important, gifts are not given solely on that basis.

Very clever.

With the large number of deliveries required in one day, I assure you haste will not be lacking. However, your requests for this year have been declined. I would encourage you, in the coming year, to spend more time looking to the welfare of others, and less time increasing your own material possessions.

Finally, the photograph you included with your letter was unnecessary, as my elves can identify the sender of every letter based solely on handwriting. Also, I ask that you not soak your next letter in perfume. It sent several of the elves in the sorting department into asthmatic fits.

In my land there is a mountain that everyone is forced to climb. Its slope is treacherous, and enemies lie in wait to attack any who try to reach the summit. I went to the mountain, I overcame its challenges, and was crowned king of the mountain. I returned the next day, free to travel its face without fear. I watched others attempting the climb, and saw them fall, defeated. One boy was almost to the summit, climbing a vertical rock wall, when his fingers slipped. He was close enough that I could see the fear and disappointment in his eyes as he fell. I heard his cry for help, and watched him crash into the rocks below. I abdicated my throne that day. I climbed down the mountain, placed my crown on his head, and carried his broken body to the top. I patrol this mountain now, protecting the weak and carrying the defeated. They mocked me. "That's not how the mountain works," they said, but I am changing the mountain.

Aphelion's soot-stained blizzards allowed atmospheric travel only a few days every year. The planet's residents called those days "summer". It had been the furthest world mapped during the second great galactic expansion, but each new wave made the name increasingly ironic. That it was inhabited at all was a testament to the stubbornness of mankind. The planet's distant sun warmed only a small band around the equator, and surviving for more than a few days outside of one of the planet's metal citadels was impossible. Satellites allowed for intergalactic communication, but only if the signals could reach them from the ground. Since the atmosphere was constantly polluted with smoke from volcanic eruptions, it was not uncommon for the planet to go for days in radio silence.

The planet's unparalleled isolation had lured the first hermits and sages, followed quickly by those who fought the raging blizzards to learn at their feet. The fame of Aphelion spread. The first university opened less than three hundred years later. Others followed. The planet's meager resources could not support the crowds, so off-world shipments were ordered to make up the difference. The cold atmosphere proved ideal for cooling the universities's massive computer labs, while the geothermal energy of the planet was tapped to power them.

Competition between the universities was fierce. Each year brought new surveys measuring them against each other, followed by rounds of editorials debating their metrics and conclusions. The staff of the Aphelion Institute of Knowledge paid close attention to these reports. Nothing was allowed to threaten their "Top Five" ranking. If a report suggested they were slipping in some area, it was quickly corrected. That is why, when a popular educational journal ranked them ninth in "Spiritual Fulfillment", the school hired the charismatic Dr. Saldon Douglas. Since the survey revealed that science majors reported especially low "spiritual connectedness", the board assigned him to their department. As the blizzards of Aphelion slowed to their annual minimum, the cruiser carrying him, and thousands of others, descended through the atmosphere. The current head of the science department, Dr. Dyson Judd, waited on a sheltered platform as the ship docked at the university's spaceport.

Robots scurried around the ship the moment it touched down, removing luggage and preparing it for its next flight. A wave of passengers flowed from the ship, spreading out in every direction. Ignoring the vibrant tide of chattering students, Dr. Judd watched for the few figures dressed in the traditional dark robes of a scholar. His lean face was motionless, but his eyes were alive, darting back and forth over the crowd, cataloging each person. Eventually they fixed on a short, grinning, and slightly overweight man, who was wrestling a heavy cart of books through the mass of milling students.

The man wound his way through the crowd with some difficulty, but finally reached the base of Dr. Judd's platform. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and then, with great effort, hauled his cargo up the stairs and into the quiet of the professors's quarters. He paused for breath a second time, wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, and thrust out his moist hand. "Director Judd! It's so nice to finally meet you."

Dr. Judd ignored his outstretched hands. "The pleasure is all yours."

"Ah, they told me of your wit. " He chuckled merrily. "Nothing like a bit of kidding to make everyone feel at home. I look forward to working together here at the Institute."

"Dr. Douglas ..."

"Please," he interrupted, "Call me Sal. All my friends do." He dried his hand on his robe and extended it a second time.

"Dr. Douglas, allow me to make myself perfectly clear. I have been at this university for one-hundred and fourteen years. I have been overseeing this department for the last thirty-two. In all of that time, I have never been less pleased at the arrival of a professor. I have recently had the displeasure of reviewing your so-called scholarly publications, and I must say that I have never read anything more damaging to the cause of education. In short, you are not welcome here."

"There's no cause for hostility." Dr. Douglas's extended hand finally fell to …

The peace of the Republic meant security for the Jedi. As an unchallenged part of the galactic government, they saw no cause for concern. No threats remained in the galaxy to menace them. Most Jedi could pass a lifetime without thinking of the Sith, the dark warriors who once opposed them. Those rare few who warned that the Sith may not be eradicated were dismissed. The Jedi were everywhere, and saw everything. No Sith could arise without the Jedi noticing. Even if one did, an ancient prophecy said the Chosen One would destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force. They never imagined that the one spoken of by this prophecy would leave the Jedi Order a smoking ruin.

The Sith also knew of the prophecy. It was a nagging fear in the back of their minds, even as the Rule of Two slowly worked towards domination of the galaxy. What could the Sith do to avoid a downfall that had been preordained? Sith mystics sought a way to avoid the prophecy. Others dismissed it as a meaningless Jedi legend. The Sith condensed their power, hidden in the shadows, unobserved by the Jedi. In time, just as the Jedi had forgotten the Sith, the Sith forgot about the Chosen One.

It took a millennium of planning for the Sith's grand plan to reach its climax. Palpatine prepared to take the reins of the galactic senate, where he would manipulate his weak-willed colleagues into granting him ultimate power so he could finally exterminate the Jedi. Then a boy named Anakin Skywalker was found, and whispers began to spread: he was the Chosen One.

A weaker Sith might have been shaken. It seemed that the Jedi prophecy would disrupt his carefully laid strategy. Palpatine, however, was not weak. Patience and stealth had served his order well for a thousand years. Panicking now would undo it all. Rather than directly attacking the Chosen One, which would certainly end in disaster, Palpatine sought a way to break the prophecy.

Years passed while Palpatine paid close attention to Anakin's progress. His power was certainly remarkable, but he was frustrated with the Jedi's slow and methodical ways. Palpatine formulated a new strategy. The wording of the prophecy intimated that the Chosen One would destroy the Sith, but how could that happen if the Chosen One was himself a Sith? Even if Anakin eventually overthrew him and assumed the mantle of master, the Sith would continue. The prophecy would remain unfulfilled. He did not relish the thought of training his own replacement, but the survival of the Sith depended on it.

Seeds of discord were easy to sow. Anakin had let fame make him arrogant. Palpatine fed his ego, convincing him that he deserved more than the Jedi were willing to give. With the coming of the Clone Wars, Anakin's frustration with the Jedi Council could no longer be contained. He resented being sent to fight like a common soldier, enduring attacks and all manner of discomfort, when he should have been leading. He would not accept being a pawn in the galactic battle plan of the Jedi.

By the time the Clone Wars reached their conclusion, Palpatine's strategy was ready. The war had left the people hungry for his new Sith Empire, and the Jedi were weak. Palpatine moved to break the prophecy. He knew that Anakin, unbeknownst to the Jedi Council, had taken a wife. His first child was due soon, and he was conflicted and panicking. When his desperation peaked, Palpatine offered the Sith as the solution. Revealing his identity to the young Chosen One brought confrontation with the Jedi, but Palpatine did not fear their attack. Only the Chosen One could destroy the Sith, and he was safely tucked away in a prison of fear and confusion.

The Jedi fell, exactly as expected, and the Chosen One was sucked into the inescapable whirlpool known as the Dark Side. As Palpatine watched the smoke rising from the Jedi temple, he could finally feel at ease. The prophecy had been subverted. The Jedi were extinct. The Sith once again ruled the galaxy.

George Lucas's epic saga has entertained generations. Its sweeping story, amazing special …

The power of the Galactic Empire was never in question while Emperor Palpatine ruled. Every aspect of its public face inspired awe and fear: the bone-white armor of the ever-present Stormtroopers; the crimson-robed Imperial Guard; the massive Star Destroyers; the heavily armored AT-ATs; the severe gray dress, and faces, of the Moffs; the terrifying Death Star; the towering and ruthless Darth Vader; and the hideous cowled face of Emperor Palpatine. Yet despite all these symbols of power, the real might of the Empire came entirely from the quadrillions of oppressed beings who allowed the Emperor and his minions to take away their freedom.

The initial proposal for the Empire had captivated the galaxy. Instead of the frustrating debates and politics of the Republic, a single great man would quickly decide each issue. Changes could be carried out with military efficiency. Threats would be eliminated instantly. Progress would not be delayed by rules and procedures. The lax oversight that had allowed civil war would be replaced with constant vigilance. It would, Palpatine announced, create a safe and secure society. Only an Empire could end the constant chaos of war. Only an Empire could prevent the corrupt practices the Republic had fostered. Only an Empire could restore order after the Jedi's failed coup. The thunderous applause at the establishment of the New Order echoed from planet to planet. Finally, they were promised, security and normalcy would return.

In mere months the Empire had blotted out the symbols of democracy. Every vestige of the Republic was replaced, or at least renamed. Finally safe from the dangers democracy had allowed, the people were only too willing to forget that there had ever been a time before the Empire. The Republic passed from their minds, and the Empire solidified its power.

True to its promise, the Empire moved with lightning speed to remove all persons, groups, and races that threatened stability. Enemies, both internal and external, were destroyed with crushing force. Yet when one foe fell, new threats were identified. The military and intelligence sector grew to enforce the Empire's new direction. No longer could individual planets be depended upon to govern themselves. Imperial Moffs were set over each sector, allowing the Emperor to ensure that his will was swiftly executed, along with any opposition.

As the Empire expanded, more and more citizens, almost exclusively humans, were hired to meet the demands of the overwhelming bureaucracy. The hierarchy ballooned as more levels and procedures were added to galactic life. Grand Moffs were appointed to oversee the thousands of Moffs. Workers were employed to build the the Empire's millions of starships. Trillions of men were recruited to augment the ever-growing military. Soon, even the exorbitant taxes of the Empire could not cover the cost, but threats continued to appear.

Therefore, a new policy, designed by Grand Moff Tarkin, was adopted in the Empire. Under the Tarkin Doctrine, the Empire would no longer respond to every threat. Instead, selected public threats would be met with devastating force, punishing the perpetrators and everyone around them. Not only would troublemakers be deterred from acting against the Empire, but others would be encouraged to betray their plots to avoid the fierce reprisals. Under the Tarkin Doctrine, it was no longer necessary for common citizens to believe in the Empire. Fear kept everyone in line.

Seated comfortably at the top was Emperor Palpatine. The benefactor of a thousand years of Sith manipulation, and a master strategist in his own right, he ruled with unchallenged authority. He used the apathy and corruption of the Republic to his own advantage, counting on the citizens to keep silent as long as he appeared to be protecting their comfort. The constant power struggles among the ranks of the Empire ensured that no threat could arise undetected. If, by some miracle, an attack did come, his faithful servant Darth Vader was ready to crush it without hesitation. From his black throne in the Imperial Palace, the Emperor's vision of order was carried to the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

The first attacks on Palpatine were predictable. Imperial officers were not always content with the strategies of Palpatine, and believed they could do better. Multiple attempted insurrections …

Perhaps, more than any other person, the responsibility for Darth Vader, the heartless butcher behind the deaths of billions of intelligent beings, lies with the Jedi Order. It was their example and actions that pushed their most promising student into the arms of a monster and plunged the entire galaxy into the darkness of Sith rule.

When Palpatine told Anakin that the Jedi were power-hungry, ineffective, dishonest, narrow-minded hypocrites, he did not do so to convince Anakin of these things. Anakin already understood them. Palpatine merely showed him that he was not alone in this realization. He offered a different way and Anakin followed Palpatine, and the Sith, because he could no longer bear to follow the path of the Jedi.

When Anakin had first come to the Jedi Order, they could not have hoped for a more eager student. Qui-Gon presenting Anakin Skywalker to the Jedi Council was literally a dream come true for the young boy. From the first time he heard some old Spacers talking about the Jedi Knights, Anakin had idolized them. To travel the galaxy righting wrongs and serving good captivated him. To his young mind they were gods, immortal and infallible. When he met the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn, he believed that the Jedi had come to right the horrible wrongs he and his fellow slaves suffered. When Qui-Gon refused, Anakin could not accept it. His young, idealistic mind could not understand that ending the slavery of everyone he cared about was not on the agenda of the Jedi,  who did not want to risk starting a war with the Hutts.

Once the Council reluctantly accepted him as a Jedi, Anakin threw himself wholeheartedly into his new life. His peers may have already been training for a decade, but he was determined to make up the difference. Every demonstration and lesson was taken to heart. He practiced his saber technique endlessly, meditated on the Jedi Code, and dreamed of the day he would leave the Temple to bring hope to those who had suffered as he had.

The tension between what Anakin expected and what the Jedi stood for was minimal at first. He accepted unquestioningly that it was best for his mother to remain a slave on Tatooine. It would help him maintain his focus and avoid the evil of attachment. When warned against becoming emotionally involved, he faithfully trusted that such commands were meant to make him a more impartial guardian of justice rather than a more reliable soldier.

Anakin listened enraptured when the Jedi Masters expounded on the nature of the Force, teaching him to detect its tendrils in everything, to recognize its warnings. He studied the differences between the Living Force and the Unifying Force. It had coursed through his veins from his earliest memories, but now he was gaining a more rigorous understanding. His teachers dissected and probed the Force like a lab animal, cataloging its features and detailing how it could be used to gain an advantage in every situation. Anakin's immature ideal of the Force as his companion and guide was soon replaced with an image of the Force as a powerful tool for carrying out the will of the Jedi.

The first real split between Anakin and the Jedi Order began with a dream. The Force told him that his mother was in grave danger, but the Jedi responded with indifference. None of them had ever known their own mothers and, besides, it was only a dream. Yet Anakin could not sit idly by while his mother suffered. He finally defied his masters and went to rescue her, but it was too late. He had failed his mother because he had ignored what the Force was telling him. His training hadn't made him better able to save her, but instead had actually made it possible for her to die. It was the first time Anakin questioned if he really wanted to be a Jedi.

That was not the only area of his life where Anakin was struggling with his Jedi training. Having lived the ascetic life of a Jedi, Anakin's understanding of love was very limited, but he knew he had a special connection to Padmé Amidala …