The Cinderella Theorem

by Kristee Ravan

  Grimm smiled at the question and motioned for me to follow him. We snaked through a series of cubicles. “I’ve often wondered that myself. But the fact is, Princess, these citizens only get to our kingdom because they are going to live Happily Ever After. When they stop being Happy, they run the risk of vanishing. If they don’t stay Happy, if we don’t maintain their Happy levels, they vanish, and if they stay vanished long enough, their tales cease to exist. Have you ever heard of The Candlemaker’s Daughter?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly. Many years ago, when my great-great-grandfather was running HEA, Celdan got so unhappy that she vanished. Several attempts were made to rescue her from Uppish Senna, but they were unsuccessful. She and her tale are gone forever.”

  “Two Questions: Your great-great-grandfather? And Uppish Senna? The kingdom in the South?”

  “Yes, my great-great-grandfather. My name is Anderson Grimm. It combines the names of both the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Anderson. The Grimm Brothers were particularly skilled at collecting fairy tales; Anderson was a master at writing his own. I happen to be a descendent of both lines. Years and years ago, your great-great-great-grandfather tracked down one of my ancestors and recruited him for this job. We’ve been here ever since. Because of our ancestry, we have an important interest in keeping the tales alive, so we make great Happiologists.”

  So Grimm is distantly related to these fairy tale creator people. And that relationship results in a greater probability that he will successfully convince the characters of his ancestors to remain Happy.

  We arrived at Grimm’s office. “Sit, sit.” He gestured at a chair. “To answer your second question: Uppish Senna is a kingdom in the corner of the Wildwood, although it isn’t large, it’s really just a fortress.” He smiled at my look of confusion. “Let me begin at the beginning. Many, many years ago a writer named Louisa Austen wrote a fairy tale. Her main character was a sad, little man, and the tale was quite unpopular with her family and friends. She never published that story, but several years later, she revised it, cutting out the sad, little man and replacing him with a much happier character who has adventures, wins the princess and saves the kingdom.

  “But, she didn’t destroy that first draft completely. That sad, little man still existed and eventually he made his way here, to Smythe’s SFL. He was the first first-draft character to ever do so. Most of our citizens came from oral tradition. His name was Tandem Tallis. The same Tandem Tallis whose gift to you caused all that trouble at your presentation.

  “He was very difficult to live with. Jealousy burned in him against not only the character that had replaced him, but all true citizens.” Grimm sighed and looked distant. “This was long before any non-characters had come to live here, like your family or mine. But something had to be done. This sad, little man was destroying the kingdom with his pettiness and jealousy, so he was banished to a corner of the Wildwood, where he still lives today.”

  “All alone?”

  Grimm shook his head. “No. He has managed to attract other discontented people and even some other rogue first-drafters. And many years ago, tired of feeling second-best, they rebelled against our kingdom and formed their own country. It’s a sad story; the people of Uppish Senna think they are Happy, but when they encounter the true Happiness here, they vanish back to their home. That’s likely why Levi vanished after you opened your present. He was probably genuinely giddy with the thought of the anguish you would experience as a result of his gift, so he vanished.”

  “But our citizens vanish also?”

  “Yes. It’s one of Tallis’ better assaults on our country. He has managed to gain control of all Unhappiness. If a person is Unhappy, they belong to him. So, if a citizen starts to become Unhappy, they are in danger of vanishing–being sucked right into the dungeons of Uppish Senna.”

  “But they can come back, can’t they?”

  “It’s difficult. Very difficult. They have to become Happy enough that the power of Tallis’ magic loses its hold on them. That’s hard to do in a dank, dark dungeon, especially if they wound up there in the first place because they were Unhappy. It’s simpler and far easier to maintain a Happy level here. And that is what you are going to be doing.”

  The door burst open. Calo stood scowling in the doorway.

  “Ah. Calo. You got my memo, I see?” Grimm motioned to him.

  Calo walked swiftly into the room but didn’t sit down. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Grimm sighed. “Princess Lily, Calo is here because I think it would be an excellent idea for the two of you to be partners.”

  Calo shook his head slightly.

  Grimm ignored him and continued, “Calo is an exceptional Happiologist, Princess, and since you are the future Protector, I want you trained by the best. Now, Calo, show the princess to the cubicle you’ll share, and get started. Go make some people Happy.” Grimm beamed at us as we left.

  My mind rapidly formulated equations as I followed Calo through a maze of cubicles. 45% chance of seeing Calo? Now, it was 100% every day. I redid my math from the earlier Calo equation. Conclusion: the math was right–the equation was wrong. I forgot a factor: that illogical, unmathematical magic of Smythe’s SFL. It’s out to get me.

  When we finally arrived at our cubicle, I could see Grimm’s office just off to the side. Calo had obviously taken a longer, more difficult route–probably for the purpose of confusing me. My probability of being happy at this job was declining rapidly, while my probability of being annoyed was increasing with each passing second.

  “Okay. This is our cubicle. This is our in-box. Here we receive new cases. As you can see we already have one for today. These reports here are from the Observers. They give us updates on our client’s levels every hour, on the hour. The binders on the bookshelf are organized by fairy godmother and the citizens under her care. They are color coded to match the godmother’s particular color of sparks. Davin’s is blue. Maggie’s is green. Dori’s is red. Glenni’s is plaid. Pencil sharpener.” He pointed to it. “Extra pencils are on the desk and the reference tales are in the archive office. Any questions?”

  I stared at him. He had delivered his entire speech quickly, in a monotone, and extremely mumbly. Oh yeah. It’s going to be fun working with Calo.

  I sighed and decided to ask a courtesy question. “So when I get here after school, I check the in-box and deal with the case?”

  “Negative.” Calo sat down in the swivel chair.

  Who says negative?

  He pulled himself up to his desk. “When you come in after school, you check with me, and do what I tell you to do.”

  “So, then the word partner has a different meaning in this world?”

  Calo glared at me. “We are not partners. I’m just training you.” He stood up. “Look. I’m very good at what I do, and I have an extremely successful record here. I don’t need or want your help. So let’s just work together for Grimm’s sake until we can get out of this.”

  “Fine.” I really don’t like that boy.

  Calo took the file out of the in-box and sighed. “Arthur and Morgan Le Faye. I was hoping we’d get something easy for your first day, like the Gingerbread Boy.” He punched the intercom button on the phone. “Hannah, couldn’t you have given us something else for today? I’ve got the Princess now.”

  “Sorry, Calo.” Hannah answered back. “Arthur will only see you.”

  Calo sighed again. “Fine. Have Holly pull the CD he likes from Audio.”

  “You got it, Calo. Good luck with Morgan.”

  “Thanks. We’ll need it.” Calo swiveled in his chair so he could face me. “Okay, Lily. Take a seat over there, and let me run through what we’re about to do.”

  I sat.

  “Morgan Le Faye is getting close to vanishing. When she gets like this, she enjoys sending dangerous presents to her brother, King Arthur. This throws Arthur into a mood, and then we’ve got a potential double vanishing. Arthur is usually pretty
easy. Play him some disco music and he’s content. Morgan will be a little trickier.”

  Someone (I assumed Holly) came in and placed a CD on the desk.

  “Doesn’t Morgan Le Faye turn people into horses?” Isn’t that what Macon told me? The one fact I know about either of these people relates to the creation of enchanted horses. Promising.

  “Not often.” Calo picked up the CD and started weaving his way through the cubicles to the front door. After we got on our bikes, he said, “Just to be on the safe side, though, don’t say anything stupid to Morgan.” He paused, then added, “Better yet, don’t say anything at all.”

  Great. Mathematically speaking: which is worse, being afraid of turning into a horse, or realizing that you actually believe it is possible to turn into a horse?

  The ride took seven and three-fourths minutes. Calo spent that entire time sighing and saying, “Oh. My. Goodness,” every time I asked questions like: “So, King Arthur is the guy who married Cinderella?”, “But I thought Merlin spun straw into gold for the shoemaker and his wife?”, or “But if nobody else could pull the sword out of the stone, how could he do it, if he was much smaller? That doesn’t make any kind of mathematical sense.”

  When we arrived at Morgan’s castle, Calo said, “For pity’s sake, do not let Morgan Le Faye know how little you know about her story. Just be quiet and don’t say or do anything.”

  A little, hunched-back man with a pointed beard and squinty eyes opened the door. “Calo. Lady Morgan has been expecting you. And I see you’ve brought our new princess along.”

  “Yes, Kobold. Princess Lily is here to observe–only.”

  We followed Kobold into Morgan’s parlor. She was sitting in an armchair on a raised platform, sighing deeply. Her long red hair trailed along the floor around her. Calo bowed, then stepped on my foot to remind me to curtsey.

  Morgan looked at us. “I am sad.” She sighed. “Calo, I feel that I will vanish this time. I feel…so cold and alone.” Another sigh.

  “My lady,” Calo took a few steps toward her. “Think of what would happen if you did vanish. You would be gone from the legends. Arthur would rule unchallenged. The once and future king–forever.”

  “I have thought of that.” She sighed again. (She’s big on sighing.) “It isn’t enough this time, Calo. Let Arthur have England.”

  “But, my lady—” Calo began again.

  “Why are you sad?” I interrupted.

  “What?” Calo and Morgan both said together. Calo looked at me, severely annoyed.

  He turned back to Morgan. “My lady, Princess Lily, is here to observe and learn. Please ignore her outburst. She knows—”

  Morgan interrupted Calo. “What did you ask, young lady?”

  I took two steps forward. “I merely wondered, my lady, what it is you are sad about?”

  “You could not possibly understand.” Morgan lifted her head, proudly.

  “Perhaps not.” Two more steps. “But I do understand you could vanish, ruining your life and your story. What could matter so much that you would risk vanishing?”

  Morgan breathed in deeply. “If you must know,” there was an edge to her voice, “my cook has had to return to her village for a few days to take care of her ailing mother.”

  “She’s coming back, though?”

  “Not until Thursday. My soup is all wrong.”

  “You’re willing to vanish over soup?”

  Morgan leaned forward, narrowed her eyes, and said, “How would you like to vanish?”

  And, then, I did.

  10

  The Mirror and the Mail

  I found myself in my own room, back in the real world. I sat on my bed for a moment trying to mathematically figure out how I could have vanished to here. The only way to get from Smythe’s SFL to this world is through our bathtub, and to do that you must have a key. But I couldn’t have come that way because I left my key at the castle.

  Oh no.

  I left my key at the castle.

  I can’t get back into Smythe’s SFL. So, I can’t go back to work. Although, as I explored the results of being vanished back home, I found myself more and more content.[30]

  If I can’t get back in (and I can’t), then I won’t have to go back to work with horrible Calo, at least not right away. Morgan Le Faye may be an extremely scary woman, but she sure comes in handy. I’m just glad she didn’t turn me into a horse.

  Since I was no longer able to make other people happy, I decided to make myself happy by doing some Algebra homework. I had just finished the next to last problem,

  x = 3x+3(x-5), solution: x = 3[31]

  when Blaire came into my room with a stack of my laundry. (I noticed the jeans (2x) from the weekend. Clean jeans have no dirty-ness value (0x).) She looked like she had been crying and froze when she saw me.

  “You’re here.” Her eyes were wide. “You’re not languishing in a Sennish prison.”

  “What?” I asked, but Blaire dropped the stack of clothes and ran out of the room.

  “Blaire!” I called, hopping over the clean clothes as I followed her to the bathroom.

  She scrambled her little self onto the sink so that she could look into the mirror. Her purple beret was slightly askew. “Blai—” I started again, but was interrupted by her talking to the mirror.

  “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, connect me, please. Place my call.”

  I took a step back, as a sleepy, elderly lady with her hair in a bun and a pencil behind her ear appeared in our bathroom mirror. She glanced up at Blaire. “What number, dearie?”

  “Put me through to Macon Mind, please.”

  “One moment.” The Mirror Lady seemed to be pushing buttons, but I couldn’t exactly see what her hands were doing.

  So, apparently, our bathroom mirror is not just a medicine cabinet. It’s also a communication device. Corrie should hope her dad never finds out. Imagine: brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, and placing calls–all at the same time.

  “I’m sorry, dear.” Mirror Lady looked at Blaire again. “All of Mr. Mind’s calls are being held. He’s involved in a crisis situation right now at the castle.” She leaned forward and whispered. “They’re saying that hoity-toity Morgan Le Faye went and vanished the princess. The lines have been buzzing about it for an hour now.”

  “But that’s why I’ve got to talk to Macon!” Blaire tried to gesture with both her hands, which led to her nearly falling off the sink. She caught herself and went on. “I know where the princess is, Marie, so get Macon on the phone, now!” Her hands waved again, wildly.

  I rushed forward to catch Blaire.

  Marie gasped and said, “Good gracious! It’s the princess.” She started pushing buttons again.

  “I told you that’s why I’ve got to talk to Macon!” Blaire nearly shouted. I moved my hand to rest on her back–preemptive spotting.

  Marie, however, seemed to be ignoring Blaire. She turned around in her swivel chair.

  “Frank!” She shouted. “We’ve got to get Macon Mind on the phone to Marshall Road.”

  An elderly man rolled into view, his chair bumping into Marie’s.

  “I told you, Marie,” he said, grabbing the pencil from behind Marie’s ear. “All of Macon’s calls are being held, until such time as the crisis is called off.” He tossed the pencil smugly like he had nothing better to do. He was a vision of what horrible Calo will be like when he is nearing retirement.

  “Look.” Marie caught her pencil and turned Frank’s head towards us.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Frank whistled. “Give me just a second.” He rolled away.

  Blaire looked at me. “They’re Frank and Marie,” she said, pointing to the mirror. “They run the switchboard for the kingdom.”

  “Really?” I said. I would have never guessed. And I never would have guessed that my bathroom mirror is a communication device that links my house to the hidden fairy tale kingdom. I’m just glad I haven’t recited couplets beginning with “Mirror, mirror” whil
e in front of it.

  “I’m sure your parents will be glad to know you are safe,” Blaire said, while wiping water spots off the mirror with her sleeve.

  “Yeah.”

  I hadn’t really thought about that. I assumed Morgan would tell them where I had gone. I further assumed they would realize I didn’t have my key and couldn’t come back. And, clearly, since I didn’t know about the mirror, I couldn’t communicate either.

  But, therein lies the problem with thinking logically about Smythe’s SFL. The moment you factor in an element from that world, the equation loses all sense of normal mathness. It is evident that you cannot say

  what Morgan will do = x.

  There will always be more variables that need to be considered. And to consider them fully–

  “Patching a mirror to mirror call.” Marie interrupted my thoughts. “Mr. Mind, are you on?”

  “Yes, Marie,” Macon’s voice answered.

  “Fine. Blaire, are you on?”

  “Yes,” Blaire chirped.

  “And…” Marie pushed a few more buttons. “Patching complete.”

  Macon and his office appeared on the mirror.

  “Your Highness?” Macon asked. “Are you alright? Are you hurt in any way?”

  “No, Macon. I’m fine. I—” I was about to explain why I couldn’t come back to the kingdom, when my mom suddenly appeared beside Macon in the mirror. She looked upset and her hair was falling out of its clip.

  “Lily? Are you okay, sweetie? Why didn’t you come back here after Morgan vanished you? We were so worried.” She started crying.

  “I couldn’t, Mom. I didn’t have my key. You know, you have to put them in the bowl when you leave the castle and—”

  “Of course!” Mom interrupted me. “I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere.” She ran off, presumably to Arrivhall.

  Macon re-centered himself in the mirror. “We’re all very glad you’re safe and sound, Princess. I’ll make sure your key is sent home with your father, and I’ll alert HEA. They’ll need to know you’re fine so they can stop planning to rescue you from the Sennish dungeons. Your mother will be there any moment now, so if there is nothing else you need, Your Highness—” He paused, waiting for me to give him permission to hang up his mirror.