The Cinderella Theorem (20 page)

I
rode home confused and thoughtful. Ella was Happy, but her marriage was in
trouble. Shouldn’t that make her
less
happy? Or since she was becoming
normal (according to schedule for my paper), was she realizing that because she
married a guy who loved her for her shoe size, she didn’t have a normal
marriage? What would her new “normal” do about this? Was she Happy because she
knew she could be free of the shoe marriage? She had a career now (painting
album art = career); did she even need Aven anymore?

I
smiled. If Ella’s levels were any indication, I would be a
brilliant
Happiologist,
converting all my citizens to normality. Instead of poisoning apples, I
imagined Potio Bane and her stepdaughter going to therapy. Talking animals
would be gone–they’d be happier as normal animals anyway. After all, normality
equals happiness. Dulcita would stop building houses of candy and start a
dentistry. I sighed contentedly, because with everyone normal and happy, I
would have unlimited time for math.

I
was so swept away in my future world of normal that I forgot all about the
Bremen Town Fair. Mom was still upset about it while we waited for the Sunday tea
guests to arrive.

“And
there won’t be another one until next year, Lily,” she sighed. “The ribbon
dancers were particularly good, too.”

“Mom,”
I groaned. “I’m sorry. I’m
infinitely
sorry. I forgot, okay, I just
forgot.”

My
dad looked uncomfortable. “Who did you say was coming to tea, Ginnie?”

Mom
sighed again. “Cerise, her mother and grandmother–Granny’s cold is much better,
and Hugo Wolf. We’ll have to watch him.” She ticked the guests off with her
fingers. “Aven and Ella and Odin.”

“Who’s
Odin?” I asked, glad my dad had changed the subject.

“High
god of the Norse,” he answered.

“He
gave an eye away,” Mom added.

“What?”
I asked, but no one answered. Macon Mind ushered someone in. It was clearly the
one-eyed Odin. His other eye socket was empty. A girl in a red coat, a
middle-aged lady, and an old woman came in soon after. They were followed by a
talking wolf. He cast hungry glances at the girl. Odin and the old woman–who
wanted to be called “Granny,” swapped optometry stories. (Apparently, Granny
had cataracts.) Cerise, the girl in the red coat, kept looking at the tray of
cookies. Her mother and my mother were deep in conversation. And predictably,
my father and the wolf had a lot to talk about.

I
stood stupidly off to the side like an extra piece of information in a word
problem. (Sarah has three marbles and seven pencils. Danette has two pencils.
How many pencils do Sarah and Danette have together? Answer = nine pencils.) I
was the three marbles that no one needed.

Macon
Mind walked over and bowed. “Princess, I wonder, as you happened to see Lady
Ella yesterday, do you know if she and Aven are planning to attend the tea? We
can’t start pouring without all the guests.”

“I
know Ella’s planning to come. But she did say Aven might not make it. He’s
working on a map of the sea floor. Apparently—” But I was unable to finish
explaining to Macon why the sea floor project took so much time. Loud shouting was
heard in the hallway.

“I
cannot believe you, Aven!” Everyone already in the tearoom stopped talking to
listen to Ella. “I am Happy, truly Happy for the first time in ages and all you
can say is ‘Where are my maps?’”

“Ella,
you’re not listening.” Aven wasn’t shouting. He actually spoke quite patiently.
“I am glad for you. I’m willing to let you keep the map room, and I think it’s
terrific that you’re starting your career again, but I need my maps. Tuna
migrations are preventing us from getting to a particular part of the sea
floor. I need the map of that area so I can finish the job.”

“Maps!
Maps! Maps! That’s all you care about. You were perfectly willing to just keep
me at home dusting those blasted maps. Now, you just want me to quit painting
and go back to being your maid.”

“Ella,”
Aven pleaded. “I didn’t say any of that.” There was a pause. “Alright, let’s
just go in and have some tea.”

Everyone
in the tearoom immediately re-engaged in conversation, so it wouldn’t look like
we’d been listening. I turned to Macon, “I guess Aven came after all.”

He
bowed again. “I’ll alert the servers that all the guests have arrived.”

Aven
and Ella came in, and everything was a little subdued after that. Ella made her
way over to me with a cup of tea. “Aven and I just had the worst fight,” she
confided. “I suppose everyone heard us?”

“Oh,”
I stalled, “I don’t think everyone heard; it was probably just the people near
the door.”

Ella
looked relieved. “Good. Did you hear us?”

“I–uh–yes,
I–I did.”

Ella
shook her head. “Aven is
so
selfish.”

I
nodded, not sure I really wanted to continue this conversation. But curiosity
is a dangerous, unmathematical thing, and I couldn’t help but ask, “What
did
you do with his maps?”

Ella
rolled her eyes. “I burned them.”

~~~

By
the time I got to work on Monday, neither Ella’s nor Calo’s levels had changed
any. Calo, however, was excited that Ella had reached Happy. He went on and on
about it for seven minutes, acting like he had been the cause of her happiness.
Since I didn’t want to tell him exactly how I’d been involved in Ella’s sudden
happiness, I ignored Calo and focused instead on the opening sentences of my
Legendary Literature paper. So far, I had:

Fairy
Tales have had an extraordinary influence on our society.  Our children grow up
expecting Fairy Tale happiness.
I
wanted to add something about how no one can live happily ever after, but every
time I picked up the pencil to add
But is this happiness achievable?
or
But
this happiness comes connected to a world unlike ours, so Fairy Tale
expectations are not realistic
, I saw the look in Aven’s eyes. I think he
had been (however bizarrely and unmathematically) living Happily Ever After
with Ella. I think he loved her. He
loved
her, and she burned his maps.

~~~

Hannah
nearly knocked me down when I entered the lobby at HEA on Tuesday. “Sorry,
Princess,” she yelled, racing away. “No time.”

“That’s
alright,” I called after her, but she was gone. I looked around me. There was
an air of panic in the office. Everyone rushed around, busy. I headed straight
for our cubicle. Calo was on the floor again. He looked depressed.

“Oh,
forget it,” I muttered, stepping over him. I dropped my bag on the floor and
went to Grimm’s office. I was determined to:

(1)
  
find out about the panic feeling
and

(2)
  
to tell him about Calo’s
depression.

But Grimm
wasn’t in his office. A woman sat in his chair, reading reports. Her feet
tapped on the floor every so often, like she was unintentionally tapping dance
steps.

“Where’s
Grimm?” I asked, skipping introductions.

The woman
looked up and smiled. “Princess Lily, I’m pleased to meet you.” She rose and
extended her hand to me. I shook it, annoyed that she wasn’t answering my
question. “I’m Miranda, Grimm’s—”

“Wife,
I know,” I finished for her. “Is Grimm sick?”

Miranda
raised her eyebrows and sat back down. “No, I’m sure he feels fine.”

“Then
where is he?” I was exasperated. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to
talk to him.”

“Oh,
I am sorry, but you’ll have to wait a week to see Grimm. Unfortunately, he’s
been turned—”

“Been
turned into a statue?” I sat down, flabbergasted by the news. “But he’s so
careful! We have to go to a separate room to use the mirrorphones and
everything. You don’t have any at home, do you?”

“No,”
Miranda shook her head. “We don’t. Kara’s still investigating, but we’re almost
certain Levi turned our hall mirror into a mirrorphone last night. Grimm always
puts his tie on in front of that mirror. When I got out of the shower, there he
was, a statue.”

Miranda
was handling this very well. My own mother would probably be hysterical if my
father was suddenly stone. “You’re not very upset.” I couldn’t seem to stop
being rude.

Miranda
smiled. “Well, it’s bothersome and annoying, of course, but it’s happened quite
a lot. I know he’ll be back in a week, and I can content myself with the
knowledge that I have full control of the remote while he’s a statue. All the
other Happiologists have kindly divided up my cases for this week, so I can do
Grimm’s job.” Her feet suddenly stopped tapping. “There is one thing that’s
odd, though.”

“What?”
I asked the woman who was mildly glad her husband was stone.

“Usually
this happens when Grimm’s not careful on a case, when he stumbles on a
mirrorphone accidentally. Levi’s never turned a mirror into a mirrorphone. And
that’s another thing–Levi isn’t even Grimm’s Dark Mesa. Why would he want Grimm
to be a statue for a week?”

Since
I could empirically determine that this was
yet another
rhetorical,
unanswerable question, I ignored it. Her ponderings about Levi hadn’t helped my
mess of worry. But maybe I could get rid of the Calo issue (c)? Surely Miranda
would know who his Happiologist was.

I
took a deep breath and said matter of factly, “Calo’s been out of sorts for six
days. He’s dropped to Been Happier. I’m concerned that nothing is being done
about this.”

Miranda
nodded and sipped her coffee. “You’re absolutely right. I’m Calo’s Happiologist,
but he’s taken this adoption thing a lot harder than I thought he would.”

“What
adoption thing?”

Miranda
looked at me, surprised. “You know, Thomas found his father’s journal in the
rafters of the mill. And their father wrote about how his wife found Calo on
their doorstep one morning.” Miranda wasn’t encouraged by my continued look of
astonishment. “Didn’t Calo tell you? I told him to tell you, that you would, as
his partner and friend, be understanding.”

I
just shook my head.

“I
can’t believe he didn’t tell you,” she went on. “You need to know, because I want
you to take over Calo’s case for me this week.”

“Me?”

Miranda
nodded again. “Of course. You’re particularly qualified since you are around
him so much, and you’ve shown real concern for his welfare by bringing it up.”

“Calo
hates me!” I pointed out the obvious. “He didn’t even tell me he was adopted;
how am I supposed to make him Happy?”

“Oh,
Lily,” Miranda began, but she didn’t finish. A piercing alarm interrupted her.
Miranda paled. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

I
jumped up. “Is it the fire alarm? Where’s the nearest exit?”

Miranda
shook her head. “It’s not the fire alarm.”

“Then
what? Tornado?”

Miranda
shook her head again. “No. It’s the vanishing alarm. Someone’s vanished.”

“Calo,”
I whispered to myself. Calo had vanished; I knew it. I knew it as surely as I
knew the sum of two complimentary angles was ninety degrees.

Miranda
reached for her phone, and I ran back to our cubicle. My heart raced, and an
uneasiness settled into my stomach. I felt the way I had in seventh grade when
I finished half of a math worksheet and realized I had done all of those problems
without considering My Dear Aunt Sally.
[48]

My
eyes went straight to the floor–to the spot where Calo had been. He wasn’t
there now. I began forming an equation about Calo languishing in a dungeon in
Uppish Senna.

“Why
are you staring at the floor, Lily?”

I
looked up. Calo was at his desk on the phone. “You’re not vanished.”

Calo
rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m not.”

“But—”

“If
you want to do something useful, instead of standing there like a
dolt
,
you could get on your phone and call the Observatory. Maybe you can get
through.” He pointed to my phone. “I’ve been on hold since the siren started
going off.”

I
picked up the receiver and pushed the numbers. “Why are we calling the
Observatory?”

Calo
sighed and shook his head. “It’s like you have no deductive abilities.”
Ignoring my noise of protest, he went on: “Someone at the Observatory will be
able to tell us who vanished.”

I
was about to show off my
deductive abilities
by saying that we would
need to quickly formulate a plan to protect the other characters in the
vanished person’s story, when I heard a voice on the line. “We are experiencing
high call volumes at the moment. Please stay on the line; your call is very
important to us. A representative from The Observatory will be with you
shortly.” This same message repeated itself every forty-five seconds. In
between the recorded messages, upbeat music played. I think I recognized a BTM
tune.

To
pass the seconds, I estimated how many times I would hear the message before I
spoke to an actual person (estimate: seventeen). I was up to eight when Calo
slammed his phone down. “Forget it,” he said. “Let’s just go up there
ourselves.”

I
hung up my own phone and followed him into the hall. As we went through the
cubicles, I noticed everyone was on the phone, and everyone looked like they
were on hold. “There ought to be some sort of PA system when things like this
happen.”

Calo
snorted. “The names of the vanished can’t be released until the appropriate
people have been notified.”

“Then
why were you calling?”

“Because
at some point, the Observatory will finish notifying your father, Grimm, or in
this case Miranda, and the other members of the vanished person’s story. Then,
clearly
,
I want to be the next person they tell.”

“Why?”

Calo
pushed the up arrow and sighed as we waited for an elevator to come to our
floor. “Because, the sooner I know, the sooner I can research. The sooner I can
research, the sooner I can present the data to the rescue team. The sooner the
data has been presented, the sooner the team can form a plan. The sooner—”

“I
get it!”

“You
asked,” he shrugged.

I
made a frustrated noise. “What rescue team?”

Calo
opened his mouth to speak, but at the same time the elevator doors opened. An
official looking person stood on the elevator, holding a clipboard. “Security
clearance?” He asked looking at us.

“Three,”
Calo answered.

The
official raised his eyebrows. “Both of you are Level Three?”

“The
princess is covered under my clearance, Gavin, you know that.”

“Policy
is policy, Calo, you know
that
.” Gavin marked something off on his
clipboard and then the elevator doors shut. They opened back up immediately
when Calo pushed the button. “Prince Avenant, or Prince Charming, as he is
often called has vanished. Thank you.” Gavin pushed a button, and the elevator doors
closed again.

The
uneasiness returned to my stomach.
Aven
had vanished. The cartographer
who just wanted to make his maps and live Happily Ever After with his wife.
Then she got a new job and burned his maps. I stopped my thought process just
short of analyzing my part in all of this.

“So
what’s the plan?” I asked Calo.

He
didn’t answer.

“Calo?”
I asked again. “Calo? Did you hear me?”

He
was very pale and taking deep breaths to calm himself. “We have to get him
back. The ramifications of this are astronomical.” He let out a breath of air.
“I mean, this is
Cinderella
we’re talking about. If her story vanishes,
there will be some serious repercussions in your world. Have you seen the
popularity ratings for
Cinderella
? It’s got to be in the ninety-eighth percentile.
It’s one of the all-time favorites. And do you have any idea how many cultures
have a Cinderella tale?”

Actually
I did. I remembered the number (345) from my Ella research. But I didn’t think
Calo really wanted an answer. (Another rhetorical question.)

“So
what’s the plan?” I asked again, hoping to focus Calo away from useless
panicking.

He
sighed. “I need to meet with Miranda.” He ran a hand over his hair. “I hope
Aven’s Happiologist is on duty. We’ll need his notes, files and personal
insight.”

“Right,”
I began, “You head straight for Miranda. I’ll grab some notepads and pens, and meet
you there.”

“Meet
me where?” Calo looked confused.

“In
Grimm’s office, for the meeting with Miranda.”

Calo
made a half laugh, half snort sort of noise. “You’re not going to the meeting.
You don’t have that much clearance.” He headed for our cubicle.

I
followed him. “You just told Gavin that I was covered under your clearance. I
should be able to go where you go, Calo. I may have insights on this situation
that—”

Calo
held up his hand to stop me. “Lily, your actual security clearance is
T
.
Do you know what
T
stands for?” He rushed on, clearly not wanting an
answer to his (rhetorical) question. “It stands for Trainee. Do you know what the
clearance of Trainee means?” Again, no pause. “It means that the
Trainer
–that’s
me–has full discretion about what you–the
Trainee
–are allowed to know.”

“But—”

Calo
went on. “You’re doing well in your training–actually quite better than I’d
expected, but you don’t have enough knowledge to be a part of this meeting.
You’d only be in the way.” He grabbed a notepad and some pencils and left.

I
might not be the most successful Happiologist ever, but I did know one thing
that Calo, the
trainer
, didn’t. I knew why Aven had vanished. I considered
the variables, calculated the outcomes, and decided to march right into
Miranda/Grimm’s office and tell them what I knew. I would just come out and
say, “He’s upset because I tried to make his wife normal and she burned his
maps.” Unfortunately, I was too busy polishing my calculations that I didn’t
watch where I was going, and I ran right into a group of people.

“Security
has been breached. I repeat, security has been breached. Secure the perimeter.”

I
looked up. Each person in the group was dressed in a dark trench coat. They
wore dark glasses and had walky-talky radios. One of them seized my arms and
pinned them behind me. “I’ve got her!” He shouted as he lowered me to the
ground. “Get Kara to safety!” He whispered in my ear, “Thought you could take out
Kara, didn’t you? Hmm? Well, your little Uppish Senna plans are going to fail,
girlie!” He planted a knee in my back.

Rapidly,
I created an equation for this incident. Trench coat person (a) had mistaken me
(L) for a Dark Mesa (d).

(a)
intended to cancel out (d), but would actually mistakenly eliminate (L).

A
different trench coater came over to us. I rolled my eyes up and strained my
neck so I could see her. She removed her glasses and looked patiently at us.
“Release her, Daniel.”

“But
Kara, she tried to—” Daniel still held my arms, his knee crushing my spine.

“You’re
mistaken, I believe. Don’t you recognize our own Princess Lily?”

Daniel
hastily pulled me to my feet and bowed. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“Okay,”
I muttered, unsure of the precise princessly thing to say at the moment. I
stepped away from him.

With
a gesture, Kara shooed her entourage on down the hallway. “You must excuse
Daniel.” She smiled. “He takes his job as head of my security very seriously.
He’s an excellent Agent, though a little enthusiastic. You’re not injured, I
hope?”

I
shook my head. “No.” After a pause, I added, “ma’am.”

Kara
smiled again. “Excellent. Do excuse me, Princess.” She turned to leave.
“Miranda’s waiting for me.”

I
watched her walk down the hall. I rolled my shoulders and swayed from side to
side to work out the pain from Daniel’s grip. Security is a serious business in
Smythe’s SFL. I carefully reconsidered my plan to burst into the office with my
information. I had no evidence that Daniel and the trenchies carried weapons,
but I had no evidence they didn’t carry them either. Conclusion: the risk was
too great.

desire for safety > desire to help

I
retreated to my cubicle. (In this equation, retreated = ran as fast as I
could.)

I
sat down and drummed my fingers on my desk for a moment or two before standing
up again. I looked out into the hall. Everyone was busy. Every few minutes, one
of the trenchies would come out of Grimm’s office and whisper something to a
waiting Happiologist. The Happiologist would run off, I assumed, to do whatever
the trenchie asked. Everyone seemed to be following preset guidelines about
what to do when someone vanishes. As a
trainee
, I hadn’t been trained by
my trainer on this procedure. I stood stupidly in my cubicle.

I
jumped slightly; the hourly report had arrived. I didn’t think Doug and the
others at the Observatory would have the time to continue giving me the special
updates. Perhaps magic kept the updates coming? Or perhaps the Observers
weren’t involved in rescuing? After all, their job title does seem to imply
that all they do is observe.

I
pulled the paper out of my shoe, and rolled my eyes when I saw Calo had risen a
level. That made sense. He loved to be commanding and condescending. “Using
condescension” should be on his list of things proven to make him Happy.

But while
Calo was getting happier, Ella was not. Her levels were dropping quickly. She
was already at Could Be Happier. Her Happiologist should be going out to cheer
her, but I didn’t think Calo would want to be interrupted for this. I was sort
of her Happiologist, wasn’t I? And I was mostly the reason her husband
vanished, probably contributing to her unhappiness now.

I
balanced the equation and realized I was the only person likely to know that
Ella was about to vanish. As far as I knew, none of the other Happiologists got
Ella on their update list.

I
grabbed my bag and left.

On
the ride over, I thought of several points to emphasize to Ella.

1.
The truth. I could tell her I had been trying to make her Happy, so I could
prove that a person had to be normal to be Happy.

2.
Her career. The way I saw it, Ella had to stay and finish her paintings. Her
clients deserved that.

3.
The fans. I could always resort to the illogical appeal of fairy tales
throughout ages and cultures. Ella wouldn’t want all those little girls to grow
up without a Cinderella, would she?

No
one answered my knock, so after several moments of debate, I opened the door
and went in. A painting flew from the studio door and bounced down the stairs,
breaking the frame on impact. The canvas looked like it had been shredded.

I
closed the door and went upstairs, narrowly avoiding decapitation from a bird
painting.

“Ella?”
I said nervously as I went into the room.

Ella
wiped her wet, red eyes and blew her nose on her smock. Her face was red and
blotchy.

“Lily,”
she breathed in rapidly, several times. “What a pleasant surprise.” She nodded
to the floor where strips of canvas were strewn everywhere. “I’m just ripping
up my paintings before I burn them.”

“Burn
them?” I whispered.

“Yes,
I’m afraid they have to go, Lily. I let my pride and selfish desire to paint
ruin my marriage.” She sobbed and slumped on the pile of atlases. “Aven hated
to be away from me on his trips, did you know that?”

I
shook my head slowly and inched further into the room.

“It’s
true. He always wanted me to go with him. He’d ask
every
time, but I’d
always say no. After all, a
princess
just doesn’t run around the
countryside like that. She’s supposed to stay at home and be proper and
embroider something.” Fresh tears started; they ran down her face and fell on
her dress. “I vanished him. I burnt his maps and made him miserable.” Ella
started sobbing again, and the only words I could make out were
“….fault…why…shoe.”