When Lenny held out his gloved hand, the snowflakes passed through it as if he were no more than a ghost, as if he didn't exist at all.

It was all illusion, of course, a trick of holographic projection. The snowflakes weren't real. There had been times when Lenny felt as unreal as this pretend snow, but today, Christmas Eve in the year 2020, his mind was clear.

He stood in the cavernous gallery that ran through the heart of Retail Palace, a 15-story MegaMall built to replace several crumbling city blocks. From one end of the mile-long gallery to the other, holographic advertisements warred for attention from last-minute shoppers in a riot of moving color and noise. Generated by special projectors, the floating three-dimensional images and accompanying sound effects filled the air in a dizzying display of surreal contrasts.

Lenny stood within one of the milder holograms, a simulated snowstorm filling the gallery's east end. People who walked by saw an unkempt man with a scraggly beard and a face that looked older than his 26 years. A bulky overcoat swallowed his wiry frame. Curly hair jutted from beneath a tattered wool cap. Frayed tape kept his shoes together.

The kitten in his inside coat pocket meowed. Three nights before, Lenny had rescued the tiny creature from a restaurant's Dumpster after hearing its pitiable cries. He called her Scratch. Now she squirmed within his coat.

He reached in to tickle Scratch's belly. As he did, a couple dressed in sleek blues and grays stopped and stared at him. The striking woman with straight black hair turned to her well-manicured husband and said in a whisper Lenny could still hear, "How did he get past security?" Her husband shrugged.

It was hardly the first time Lenny had heard such remarks. What would the couple say, he wondered, if they knew he and Scratch had spent the night in the parking garage beneath Retail Palace? Or had slept other nights beneath freeway bridges, or in fields, most of the past seven years?

Lenny stayed put as the couple walked out of sight. Inside his pocket, Scratch mewed again. He knew he would soon have to use up the small clump of bills and change he had to buy a sandwich to share with his tiny friend. He scanned the gallery for a place to buy food.

Holograms of 10-foot-tall caroling children in red and green holiday dress melded with 15-foot-tall animated men and women modeling everything from coats to underwear. Projections of larger-than-life toys raced and battled and posed, the boys' toys armored and spiky, the beautiful girls' dolls riding perfect horses.

Christmas songs blasted from everywhere, making it impossible to listen to any one. Jaded shoppers strolled right through the advertising chaos as if they, too, were ghosts.

Lenny could remember the days before his sickness, living in a small but warm house where each year his father brought a real pine tree and his family covered it with too many ornaments. And the colorful presents beneath - memories left in a distant, hazy past. Looking across the gallery with its barrage of garish animations, he couldn't imagine that anyone bothered with real trees anymore.

Then Lenny spotted the boy. No older than 8, he was sitting beside a pillar, crying, almost completely hidden in the phantom snow. Lenny searched but didn't see any adults nearby.

He never liked calling attention to himself, but now he saw no choice. He walked over and crouched beside the boy, asked what was wrong.

"Lost," the boy said.

Lenny asked the boy's name.

"Andre," he said.

Andre's parents had left him at the VRcade and bought him 10 minutes' time playing SwordSwipe, telling him they'd be back by then. But an older boy plugged into the same virtual reality game kept doing things to get Andre's character killed. On the verge of tears, Andre quit and went to find his mom and dad, but the holograms confused him.

"Don't worry," Lenny told him. "We'll find your folks."

He offered Andre a ride on his shoulders. With the boy safely in place, he started toward a security booth.

"Hey! Hey, you there!"

Two men in security uniforms came running in Lenny's direction. So did a woman with long black hair.

"Mommy!" yelled Andre.

Lenny set the boy down. He ran to the woman, who snatched him up. She fussed over the boy, as did the manicured man, who carried an armload of wrapped gifts. Finally the boy pointed at Lenny, smiling, and both parents looked his way. It was the same couple Lenny had seen before.

They kept looking at Lenny, and talking in low voices. The guards with them eyed him suspiciously.

His hope of getting food to share with Scratch sank. Surely they were going to escort him out.

The man strode into the fake snow. He stood facing Lenny, looking nervous. Lenny braced himself for what was coming.

"We want you to join us for Christmas dinner," the man said.

Lenny was too stunned to respond.

The man looked puzzled. "Did you have other plans?" he asked.

Lenny laughed. "No. No, I don't."

Their names were Bruce and Dana Cobb. They lived in a two-story house about 10 minutes from Retail Palace. The drive proceeded in a silence that grew uncomfortable until Scratch loudly announced her presence, much to the Cobbs' surprise and delight. As Andre's small hands held and petted the squirming tabby, Lenny explained how he had found her.

Dana and Bruce exchanged a glance. "Looks like Prowler," Bruce said wistfully. He explained to Lenny: "The cat we had when we first got married."

Inside the house, Bruce showed him to the bathroom to wash up, while Dana went to the kitchen to kick-start dinner. The Cobbs' house seemed very modern - small, flat robots continually swept the hardwood floors - but much to Lenny's amazement, a real pine tree stood in a corner of the dining room, its scent subtly tinting the air, its string of lights a balm to Lenny's heart.

"I thought no one had these anymore," he said.

Dana shrugged, smiling. "It's our tradition. The needles keep the robots busy."

Over a dinner of glazed ham, baked potatoes slathered in gravy, biscuits and mincemeat pie, Lenny told the Cobbs much more than he normally would reveal to strangers - but it felt right. He told them how he became sick after high school - not all the time, but when he had an episode, he could stay disoriented and confused for months. His family had a hard time coping with his illness, and he finally lost contact. He couldn't hold down jobs. There were medicines, but they cost so much and made him feel groggy all the time.

"Maybe you need to give it another chance," Dana said. "Get back in touch with people who can help you." She looked at her husband. "We can take him to a shelter. Talk to the people there, find out what to do next. Maybe we can find his family?"

Bruce nodded, and Lenny grew uneasy. The idea of going back into a shelter, getting medicine, contacting his family, scared him. He didn't want to argue with the Cobbs - they were nice people, and he'd burdened them enough. So he just nodded politely and waited until they went into another room to call shelters.

Quickly pulling on his coat, he noticed Andre sitting beside the tree, dangling strands of tinsel that Scratch swiped at with tiny white paws.

The sight warmed him even more than his first glimpse of the tree. She, at least, could have a home.

"Take good care of her," he said.

Andre's eyes grew wide. If the boy said anything, Lenny didn't hear. He pulled the front door open, stepped out, shut the door, adjusted his hood against the cold and started walking. He knew he would never see the Cobbs again.

But he didn't get far before he heard a shout behind him.

As Dana watched from the door, Bruce jogged out to intercept Lenny. "Don't do this," he pleaded.

Lenny sighed heavily. "You don't have to feel sorry for me," he said. "You've done plenty for me. More than I deserve."

Bruce's mouth worked as he struggled for words. "Don't think of it that way," he finally said. "It's what we want. It's like a Christmas present, from you to us."

As they spoke, something touched Lenny's cheek. He brushed at it with a finger, thinking it might be a tear.

"It's snowing!" Bruce said, looking up.

Lenny pulled off his glove and turned his palm up. The tiny flakes settled there, light tickles of cold, and quickly melted against the warmth of his skin.

It's not a hologram, he thought. This is real, as real as I am.

He smiled at the Cobbs. "All right," he said.