The Cinderella Theorem (11 page)

I
nodded. The monitor is like a number line. (I love finding math in random
places!)

“Great.”
Calo took a sheet of paper off his desk and gave it to me. “This is the latest
update–the three o’clock one. Doug’ll be bringing the four o’clock pretty
soon.”

I
looked at the clock: it was 3:53. “Doug?”

“He’s
Head Observer up in The Observatory. Observers make sure that Happiologists get
hourly reports on Happiness levels.” Calo pointed at the paper. “Glance over
that and tell me who we should be concerned about.”

I
did not
glance
at it. Mathematicians rarely glance; the margin of error
is greatly increased if you are only quickly looking at something. I
examined
the paper. The first thing I noticed was that it was only one page.

“This
can’t be everyone.” I said, matter-of-factly. “There are only twenty-five names
on here.” I looked at Calo. I’m certainly not claiming to know everyone in this
story world come true, but I think I could now name more than twenty-five.

“Oh,
right.” Calo sat on his desk. “Each Happiologist just gets one page of the list,
just their clients. Some of the characters rotate around each month, and some
stay with the same Happiologist. For instance, King Arthur and Morgan Le Faye
are regulars for me.”

“Who
decides if they become a regular?”

“The
characters themselves. They mail in a card at the end of the month indicating
their choice for the next month. It’s a pretty reliable system. That way they
can find the Happiologist that works best with them. You don’t want to mess
around with Unhappiness if things aren’t working out between you and your
client.”

“So
they just shop around?”

“Some
do. Some don’t. Some like the change, and some want a steady relationship.”

I
saw a lot of problems with this “reliable” system. What if a character, who
liked to switch around, kept switching, but with each passing month the
character’s Happiness level dropped a little. How would the Happiologists be
able to recognize the problem? Also, if a character got into a destructive pattern,
it wouldn’t be hard to–I stopped myself.

Why am
I considering potential problems at HEA? I sighed. Against all mathematical
reasoning, this place is becoming normal to me. And
that
is not normal.

I
returned to examining Calo’s portion of the list. On the left hand side, the
names of the characters were listed and on the right, their corresponding
levels of happiness. Calo had asked me to point out potential problems with
citizens. That meant that I was looking for levels of Could be Happier and
lower. I looked down the list.

The
first name was Minerva (Goddess of Wisdom). She wasn’t a problem at More Happy
Than Usual. Both Hugo Wolf (The Big Bad Wolf) and King Arthur were Less Than
Happy. Sirena (The Little Mermaid) was Averagely Happy, and Morgan Le Faye, at
Rather Happy, still seemed to be delighting in the memory of vanishing me.

Near
the middle of the page, I found my first Could be Happier–Baile (Third of The
Twelve Dancing Princesses). I made a mental note and continued my examination.
Two names below Baile, Amphi (The Frog Princess) had Been Happier, and Sula
Gansa (The Goose Girl) Could be Happier. The rest of the names on the list were
Less Than Less Than Happy or happier.

I
returned the list to Calo. “Baile, Amphi, and Sula Gansa are at risk. Amphi’s
risk is compounded by her being at the Been Happier level.”

“Right.”
Calo handed me a green highlighter. “Your first job, when you come in to work,
will be to take any hourly reports on your desk and highlight those we should
be concerned about. I’ll take care of the ones that come in while you’re at
school.” Calo glanced at the clock; it was exactly four. “Ah,” he said, turning
to the bald man who appeared at the entrance of our cubicle, “right on time, as
usual, Doug. Thank you.” He took the four o’clock update from Doug and handed
it to me. “Happy highlighting, Lily.”

~~~

Wednesday
and Thursday were spent at school (where there was not enough math), at work
(where there was even less math), and at home (where there was plenty of math
to be had–if I could get away from my parents to do it). Since Mom and King Tub
Man both stopped working before supper, they wanted the “family” to spend the
evening together in the living room. They also wanted the “family” to
contribute to “family discussions” at “family dinners,” which were all catered
by Lubcker and company.

I discovered
on Tuesday night another lie must be added to my mother’s portfolio. It seems
she can’t cook at all. Apparently, Lubcker would bring supper over while I was
still at school. Mom would heat it up, serve it to me, and claim it was hers.
Mom was a little offended when I pointed out my whole childhood had been a lie.

“I
don’t see what the big deal is, Lily. It’s not like you were malnourished.”
[33]

Work
continued in its normal, Smythian way. Calo treated me like a child, making
disbelieving noises when I asked questions he felt I should already know the
answer to or openly mocking any ideas I had.

On
Wednesday, during our review of case histories, I suggested that we make a
chart to organize our data. Specifically, I was looking at Sirena’s file.
Since, as a mermaid, she lives in the ocean, I thought it would be to our
advantage to examine tidal patterns and sea temperature trends and their effect
on her Happiness. Calo did not agree.

“Because
that would affect her Happiness
how
exactly?” He scowled. “She spends
over half her time in her human form–on
land
.”

“Suppose
she likes to swim (as a mermaid
or
as a human) in a certain shallow
area. She wouldn’t be able to swim when the tide went back out, or—”

Calo
interrupted. “That’s stupid. Sirena likes things to do with humans. All you
have to do is give her a fork or a sewing kit, and it raises her level. Once I
gave her a set of water wing floaties and she went straight to Excessively
Happy.”

“But
that doesn’t fully address the problem, you need—”

“Yes,
it does. The problem is that she is Unhappy. The solution is to make her Happy.
Hammers and hand mixers will do that.”

“But
that doesn’t tell us why she’s unhappy. If we don’t figure that out, we’ll
never be able to help her. The charts could—”

“Take
up unnecessary time.” He interrupted and annoyingly finished my sentence.
“While we’re out there measuring the sea’s temperature and charting tidal
fluctuations, she’d be getting unhappier and closer to vanishing. If we don’t
prevent her vanishing, then we’ll lose her story. Which, to me, is far worse
than never knowing the exact reason why she’s unhappy in the first place.” He
stomped out of the cubicle, which was fine with me.

On
Thursday afternoon, however, I had no extra time to consider revolutionizing
HEA. Calo kept all parts of my mind occupied in solving hypothetical
situations. They were basically cases in which you would figure out everything
you would do to solve the case, without actually solving it.

Calo
played the citizens and I, of course, was the Happiologist. He was especially
entertaining as Potio Bane, pretending that his crop of apples had been sat
upon by Jack’s giant. I think I did fairly well at making the fake people
happy.

Solving
cases involved looking at the case file, reading the story to brush up on
familiarity (or, in my case, to learn anything at
all
about the story),
and reviewing past cases to see what other Happiologists have found successful.

Calo
seemed pleased with my progress. As I got on my bike after work, he said, “I
think you’re ready for some practice on an actual citizen. See you tomorrow,
Lily.”

There
was some satisfaction in my smile as I rode back to the castle.

~~~

Kelly
Stewart poked me in the back. “Pay attention!” She hissed.

“Lily?!”
Mrs. Fox looked at me. “Did you hear my question?!”

“Uh...no,
Mrs. Fox, I didn’t.” Once again, Legendary Literature had failed to hold my
interest.

“Well!
I’ll ask it again!” Mrs. Fox bounced ever so slightly on the balls of her feet,
completely the image of a living exclamation mark. “Will you read the handout
please?!”

When
did we get a hand out? I looked at my desk. Not only did I have the handout,
but I had already covered the margins with algebra problems.

I
read, “‘As a body of work, legendary tales are ignored by some students of
literature. They feel that their oral beginnings lead to questionable, even
laughable holes in the plot lines. These critics feel that the improbabilities
of most of the plots in legendary literature reflect a simple culture, a time
long passed, and a people inferior to modern man. But are they right?

“‘You
must decide. You may choose either argument: ‘Legendary Literature is worthy of
study’ or ‘Legendary Literature is not worthy of study.’ You will write a
three-page paper arguing your position with examples. For instance, if you feel
that the oral nature of the tales makes them unreliable, then you will include
examples of stories in your paper whose plots have suffered because they were
not originally written down. Topics will be due on Monday and the papers on
September 13.’”

“Thank
you, Lily! That means you’ll have two weeks to write your papers! Don’t put
them off until the last minute!” The bell interrupted. “Have a good weekend!
Don’t forget to have your topic ready on Monday!”

A
whole paper about fairy tales? Ugh. We do not do enough math-related work in
this school.

~~~

I
had just finished highlighting potentially unhappy citizens (there were five
today), when Calo walked in and glanced over the list.

“Hmm.
No change then.” He dropped a file folder on my desk. “Okay, Lily,” he said,
cheerily. “King Arthur has kindly agreed to let you practice on him this
afternoon.”

“He’s
not in danger. He’s only Less Than Happy.”

Calo
looked at me funny, looked at the update, looked at me again, and said, “How
did you know that?”

I
shrugged. “I’ve got a good memory.”

“Clearly.”
Calo appeared for a moment to be about to say something else, but then he shook
his head slightly. “Right. He’s only Less Than Happy, which technically isn’t
in danger, but it also isn’t Happy. I need you to have some practice with cases
that uh…” He stopped and seemed to be trying to figure out the best way to say
something.

“Cases
that I’m not likely to mess up and cause someone to vanish?” I asked,
helpfully.

“Exactly.”
He nodded. “Even if you do bring Arthur down a level or two, he won’t be in
serious danger, but he’s still low enough that we’ll be able to tell if you’ve
made him happier. So, go over the file, make your plan, and let me know when
you’re ready to leave.”

I
opened Arthur’s file and read the list of things proven to make him happier:
disco music, chocolate chip cookies, Gwenivere, working with his hands, and
cold, cold milk. I looked at past attempts to raise his level. Mostly Calo had
just played disco music, while they both danced around in the throne room under
Arthur’s disco ball. Judging from the past reports, it seemed to be taking Calo
longer and longer to bring about a Happy rating with this technique. Probably
because he was doing the same thing every time.

I
got a Happy Plan form out of my desk and completed it, outlining my plan for
Arthur, along with a list of supplies I’d need. I showed it to Calo.

He
smiled. “Creative.” He pushed in his desk chair. “Let’s go see if it’ll work.”

~~~

Arthur
met us at the door of his castle. “I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon.
Hello, Princess,” he said, taking my hand. “Wonderful to see you.” Turning to
Calo he said, “And I’ve got my monitor here, so we can see how things are
going. Should we go to the throne room?” He looked from Calo to me and then
back to Calo, as if unsure of who exactly to ask.

“The
kitchen, actually.” I answered.

“The
kitchen? How interesting.” He gave his monitor to Calo and led the way.

The
kitchen was large, warm, and oddly sunny for a room in the basement of a
castle. I ignored the obvious flouting of mathematical laws like the refraction
and reflection of light and took a CD player out of my bag. “Some music while
we work,” I said, as I pulled out the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.

“Are
those chocolate chips?” Arthur pointed.

I
nodded. “I thought we’d make some cookies today.”

Calo
sat down on a stool in the corner with Arthur’s monitor and a clipboard for
taking notes.

“Excellent
idea, Princess. I’ve never baked before.” Arthur looked absolutely giddy. We
had a good time baking and eating the dough before we made the cookies. Arthur
was fond of scooping the dough out of the bowl and rolling it in his hands to
make what he called “the perfect ball of cookie dough.” And the music was
entertaining. I know very little about disco music, but Arthur had an amazing
wealth of knowledge on the subject. For instance, did you know that the soundtrack
of
Saturday Night Fever
is generally considered to be more popular than
the movie itself? And he knew the words to every song. When the first batch of
cookies had cooled enough to eat, I reached into my bag and pulled out a
thermos of milk. As we dunked our cookies into the cold, cold milk, a chime
sounded from Calo’s corner.