1868

An overweight man strolled down the many aisles of long tables, occasionally offering a word of advice to one of the workers. They were in a giant room, the size of several football fields. Hundreds of these buildings stood in the artic tundra, home to thousands of workers. Together they worked day and night year-round, creating thousands of toy soldiers, building train sets and wooden blocks. Their overseer was a giant of a man, who at the end of the year would gather the beautifully crafted toys and deliver them all across the world. Then, at his return the workers would receive instructions for new toys, and it began again.

1903

The workers waited anxiously for their boss to return from his yearly delivery. Finally, the doors opened, snow swirling around his large frame. The man walked in, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

"Record players," was all he said.

Confused murmuring broke out among the crowd. Record players? What was he talking about? No one knew.

"That is what the children want. Record players. I know nothing about it."

1999

As quickly as it had come upon them, the pandemic of technology took over. Soon, children's lists begged for video games and cassettes, electronic games of every shape and size. CDs and videos replaced dolls and books.

The great man still knew nothing about them.

As the years slid by like water, he visited fewer and fewer homes. Less and less toys were made, and the workers began to leave.

His absence was noticed, because the parents began buying the gifts instead. The children never even noticed the transition, except for receiving more toys than before. They squealed in happiness over items wrapped in plastic and cardboard that read 'Made in China' instead of the handcrafted toys formed from small, practiced hands.

And with that, a new millennium began.