The Cinderella Theorem Page 22

  “Why not? Don’t Dark Mesas want all of us to vanish anyway?”

  “In theory,” Doug answered. “They’re supposed to. But–I don’t suppose you have any idea what the Sennish dungeons are like–do you?”

  “No.”

  “Ella, Aven, and the rest of the regular citizens–Celdan, etc.–will just be tortured by things that make them unhappy forever. Aven might be lost without a map, and Ella will probably be watching him from her cell–knowing that she caused him to vanish.”

  I sighed. I am one lousy Happiologist. Why must I make everyone normal? I turned my attention back to Doug, who was hypothesizing in detail about the now miserable lives of my friends.

  “But with a vanished Happiologist, it’s different. Tandem Tallis gives them a choice: stay in the dungeon being tortured forever or become a Dark Mesa.”

  “None of us would do that,” I said incredulously. “None of us would ever become a Dark Mesa.”

  “It’s happened before. Many times. In fact, every Dark Mesa–except Tandem Tallis–was once a Happiologist. It is supposed that even one of your father’s brothers defected when he vanished.”

  “My father has brothers?” I paused to let that sink in. “I can’t believe a Happiologist would switch sides. It’s not mathematical. Why would they defect like that?”

  “Think about it, Princess. Would you stay in a miserable dungeon working unsolvable math problems, knowing that if you chose you could be free?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Dungeons are dungeons. At some point, everyone wants out badly enough.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the choices some Happiologists have made–but I understand them. I hope you never have to make that choice, Princess.”

  I didn’t say anything, but mentally I agreed with Doug. How could I make that choice? It’s all well and good and mathematical to say I’d stay constant while I only hypothesized about it, but if I was really faced with torturous Geometry proofs that would not be solved, could I stay constant?

  I didn’t want to answer that question, so with mathematical effort, I turned my mind to another matter: Levi.

  “So, Levi was once a Happiologist?”

  Doug nodded. “An extremely good one, too.” He leaned in to whisper. “Some say he was even better than Calo or Grimm. Not that they ever worked together. Levi was way before their time. And he was being groomed to take charge of HEA, after the Head Happiologist retired.”

  “So what happened?” I asked. “How did he go from golden boy to grease bomb?”

  “He got careless, I guess. Didn’t keep up with his own happiness. And one day he vanished. Tandem Tallis was delighted with his luck. He had the best Happiologist in all of Smythe’s SFL, locked in one of his dungeons. In those days, Tallis was the only Dark Mesa around. His strategy was simply to get the Happiologists to vanish. No Happiologists in Smythe’s SFL would make the citizens easy to pick off. But the vanishing of Levi changed everything. Levi didn’t like being in the dungeon and was determined to find a way out. He waited patiently, planning his strategy. In the end, he managed to get Tallis to agree to his release.”

  “How?”

  “Levi agreed to become Tallis’ lieutenant. In exchange for his release from the dungeon, Levi became the Dark Mesa he is today.”

  I didn’t say anything for a moment. I was wondering how anyone could agree to betray their own country, but I was also wondering how anyone could willingly endure torture, knowing they had a way out.

  “He’s a traitor.”

  Doug nodded. “That’s why he’s so greasy. It’s punishment for his treachery.”

  “What? Punishment from whom?”

  Doug looked confused. “From the fairy tale forces of magic. You know, in all the stories good behavior is rewarded and bad behavior is punished, like Fanchon.”

  “Who?”

  “Fanchon, the older sister who was rude to the fairy and was punished by having snakes and frogs come out of her mouth every time she talked.”

  I just looked at Doug.

  He went on. “And the good sister had gems and jewels drip out of her mouth, because she was nice to the fairy. Good is rewarded; evil is punished. It’s standard fairy tale philosophy. Didn’t Calo go over that with you?”

  I blinked at Doug. “I have no idea,” I answered honestly. “Calo mentioned numerous things I can’t remember.” I looked down. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not very good at this whole Happiologist thing.”

  “Nonsense. You calculated why Calo vanished with astonishing accuracy and you’re here helping to save the kingdom.” He paused. “I just wish I knew why Levi bothered Calo in the first place?”

  “Other than the fact that he’s evil, right?”

  “Right. Calo’s not even one of his cases. Besides Levi is competitive. He’s been Tallis’ number one for hundreds of years. He wouldn’t want to give Calo the chance to become a better Dark Mesa than him.”

  “Assuming Calo would change sides, of course.” I could not believe Calo would be so treacherous. He was an annoying, stuck-up jerk, but he wasn’t a traitor. He was the one who stayed at work during my presentation ball to watch the monitors. He was the one who took offence when I didn’t know anything about fairy tales. Calo loved E. G. Smythe’s Salty Fire Land. He would never betray it.

  “Of course.” Doug didn’t look like he held a lot of faith in Calo’s constancy. “Just in case, though, we should get him out of there as soon as we can.”

  I thought about Levi’s supposedly strange behavior. If he really was acting outside his limits, he was taking an incredible risk. Was his desire to vanish Calo greater than his need to be the best? It didn’t seem to equal the image I’d formed of him.

  Levi was ultimately selfish. He had selfishly chosen his own comforts over the greater good of the kingdom. Why would he go out of his way to vanish someone that could ruin his career? Why would he take the trouble of making sure Kara, Grimm, and Miranda couldn’t intervene in his vanishing of Calo? If Calo isn’t his true target, who is?

  “It’s me,” I whispered.

  Doug looked up from his notes. “What?”

  “Levi’s after me. It’s basic mathematics. Why would Levi take such risks for just Calo? He’s after a much bigger target. He wants the heir to the throne.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Doug fumbled with his notes, making new stacks. “We can’t assume—”

  “There’s no other reason. Why would Levi wait until now to vanish Calo? He thinks I’ll be so saddened by Calo’s vanishment that I’ll vanish too.”

  “But you aren’t living Happily Ever After, Princess. Levi knows that. You can’t vanish.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’re the reason Calo vanished, but I do think you’re the only one who can save him.”

  “Why am I the only one?” Being the only one greatly reduces the mathematical odds. The only one out of a hundred has a 1% chance of success.

  “Because your Happiness levels can’t be affected by Levi and Uppish Senna. You’re not vanishable.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  Doug rolled his chair over to me. “Look, we need someone in the dungeon to talk to Calo and Ella–to get them back to Happy so they will vanish out of dungeon. Since Cinderella is such a high profile story, we have to do this as soon as possible, before the whole thing vanishes.”

  “I don’t—”

  Doug held up his hand to stop me. “Let me finish. Any of us could go, sure, but our odds of success are only 10-12%. Your odds are closer to 57%.”

  “That’s very specific.”

  “I was an accountant.”

  “Those aren’t very good odds.”

  Doug shrugged. “If it were easy to get in and out of the dungeons, it wouldn’t be so devastating when people vanish. Beside you may not be a certified Happiologist yet, but you have one major advantage.”

  “That I’m not vanishable?”

  “Exactly. Any of the rest of us will begin
to be affected by the sadness in the dungeon as soon as we get there. That will slow us down, impact our work, and if we’re not careful, could leave us trapped there.” He paused. “You, on the other hand, can’t be bothered by the sadness, so you will be able to work at full strength for a long time–indefinitely, even. Plus, you won’t be confined to your cell, so you’ll be able to talk to the others.”

  “Why won’t I be confined to a cell?” I interrupted, ignoring the question of how I got into the cell in the first place.

  Doug smiled. “Didn’t you know? The Sennish dungeons don’t have bars or locks. The prisoners are locked in by the force of their own unhappiness. Happiness is the only thing that gets them out. You will be able to move freely around the prison.”

  “Okay, but surely Tallis knows about that? It is his prison, after all. He’s not going to let me just wander around.”

  “No. There are guards everywhere.” He ran a hand over his bald head. “We really need a map table, but it will be tricky getting to the map room.” He looked cautiously out the cubicle opening.

  “Why do we need a map table?” Even though I was mentally reeling from the implication of his plan, I remained calm and asked rational questions. It sounded like this rescue equation was shaping up with me in prison. Prison is very unmathematical. Especially if there are no bars or locks.

  “There are no paper copies of the Uppish Senna maps. The grease they emitted eventually ruined them. We had Aven commit them all to MTM a while back.”

  “MTM?”

  “Map table memory.”

  “Oh.” I nodded. “I have a map table.” I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the one from Aven.

  Doug grabbed it. “Excellent.” He flipped the on switch.

  The table began its rhyming speech.

  “Need a map? Need a guide?

  Lost, no matter how you’ve tried?

  Here, let me show you! Here, let me tell you!

  I’ll guide you through the land of the Zulu.”

  “Hello, Map Table.” Doug said politely.

  “Hello, Douglas. Hello, Princess.”

  “Hello,” I answered.

  Doug cleared his throat. “Map Table, we need to bring the Sennish dungeons maps online, and we’ll need tracking capabilities activated for the Princess.”

  “Hmm,” The table paused, thinking, clearly unaware that tables do not, in fact, think. “Here are the dungeon maps. Four total: one basic, one showing heat, one indicating levels of happiness inside each cell, and one three-dimensional one. You can move between them using my toggle keys.”

  “Thank you.” Doug started looking at the different maps.

  “Does the Princess have any sort of enchanted device on her person?” The table asked. “That would be the easiest way to track her; we could follow her with the EOL map.”

  “EOL?” I whispered to Doug.

  “Enchanted Objects Locator. It finds things that have magical properties.”

  “Oh.” I was grateful Calo was gone. He has a very low tolerance for answering questions that I should already know the answer to. And, sadly, I actually knew about the EOL from when we had to find my bike.

  “Hey,” Doug turned to me. “You’re wearing your magic shoes, aren’t you?”

  “My dancing shoes?”

  “No, the shoes I enchanted to receive updates from me.”

  “Oh, those.” I blushed. “Yes, I’m wearing them.”

  “Great, we can use them to locate you.”

  “Wonderful,” the Map Table joined in. “Please place the shoe on my screen, so I can get a reading of its magic.”

  “That’s odd,” I muttered. “When we used the HEA table to find my bike, it didn’t have to have a reading.” I started taking my shoe off. I continued wondering aloud. “Can a clearer picture be obtained by taking a ‘reading’ of a magical object?”

  “Yes,” Doug took my shoe and placed it on the map table. “If there’s not a specific reading or request, the EOL map picks up anything that’s magic. With a specific request, the EOL will only locate that object. When they looked for your bike, they likely looked for objects in the area, and then for ones that were out of place.”

  “Oh,” I nodded, my understanding multiplying. “My bike was in the river, so of course, there aren’t any magic objects in the water. That would’ve been a big clue.”

  “Well, except for the wish-giving fish. But they generally prefer saltwater.”

  “I am finished with the shoe,” the table announced.

  “Thank you,” Doug handed the shoe back to me. “Ready to go?”

  “Ready to go where?” I asked, putting my shoe back on.

  Doug looked confused. “To save Calo and Ella.”

  “What? Wait a minute; there are some holes in your equation, Doug. You want me to save Calo and Ella, but you haven’t told me what equals what. I can solve for one variable, but not two.”

  “Let me do the math for you.” He grabbed a pencil. “In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you my plan.”

  He spent the next ten minutes going over the plan with me. It was dangerous, greasy, and involved a lot of work on my part. It was also the only thing that would succeed. Most of it was fairly straightforward: find Levi, get him to take me to the dungeon, get “locked up,” wander around talking to the other prisoners, getting them happy enough to vanish.

  “Okay, after I get everyone to vanish back, how do I get out?”

  Doug hesitated. “Well, the thing is, even though you can get out of your cell because you’re not unhappy, and you can move around because of your invisibility marble, you’re still in a fortress full of Tallis’ guards, in the middle of the wilderness.”

  “Right, so how do I get out?”

  Doug coughed. “The, uh, the best thing would be if you were to become Happily Ever After and then you’d vanish back.”

  I made sort of a half-laughing noise. “Is there a second best thing?”

  Doug hesitated again. “Let’s just say that if your odds of getting out by the first best thing are 50%, then the odds of you getting out by the second best thing are considerably lower.”

  “30%?”

  “Lower,” Doug whispered.

  “15%?”

  Doug shook his head. “You’d have to fight off the actual dungeon guards, get out of the fortress, and then make your way through thirty-four miles of dense forest before reaching Smythian safety.”

  “So more like 2%?”

  “I’d calculate it at .4%.” He forced a smile.

  .4%? I sighed and shoved my hand in my pocket. My fingers felt my marble. I wondered vaguely if Glenni could improve .4% odds. Maybe I should just wish everyone out? Hey! That could work.

  “Doug, I’ve got an idea! Glenni’s my fairy godmother. Why don’t I just wish for everyone to be free?”

  Doug half-smiled. “That won’t work. By law, all vanished people belong to Tallis unless their happiness level changes.”

  “Which won’t happen, since they are in a dungeon surrounded by things making them unhappy.”

  “Exactly. Besides, fairy godmothers have three prohibitions about wishes: No wishing for extra wishes. No wishing for vanished people to return, and no wishing for ice cream.”

  “Ice cream?”

  “It’s too messy.” He shuddered.

  I sighed loudly. “I really hoped that would work.” I closed my eyes. “.4%, huh?”

  “You don’t have to do this, Princess. I’ll come up with another plan.”

  I looked at the map table. The heat sensitive map was showing. Twelve of the thirty-two cells had red in them. The red splotches equaled vanished citizens. If I didn’t rescue them, how many more splotches would there be?

  Calo was a terrific Happiologist; if I could get him almost to the point of vanishing back, I could use him to help me rescue everyone else. Calo at 75-80% efficiency was something like four times better than me. I would need a bit more information before I could work that equat
ion with accuracy, but I felt confident my estimate was correct. Then when everyone else was safe, I’d get Calo to vanish back by groveling or flattery.

  I wasn’t confident that I would get to Happily Ever After–especially not after groveling to Calo, but…. I went over the numbers in my head again. It was the only way. I looked at the notes littered on Calo’s desk. On his calendar, in the square for today, he’d written: Lunch with Linda.

  “Who’s Linda?” I asked aloud.

  Doug was furiously scribbling alternative plans for rescue. He looked up. “Uh…Linda’s the Beauty from Beauty and the Beast. She called earlier looking for Calo. I had to make something up.” He went back to his planning and I tried to figure out why her name was Linda. Why wasn’t it just Beauty?

  I surprised myself by actually remembering her story. She had traded places with her father, so he could get out of the Beast’s dungeon. She had sacrificed her life for his. Of course, it turned out rather well in the end, being a fairy tale and all.

  And just like that, I knew I’d do it. Even if I wound up stuck in a room that was a geometrical impossibility–like those staircase illusions–I would do my best to rescue these stories. I would do it because of Beauty (or Linda, if that is her real name) and her sacrifice, I would do it because Ella offered me her friendship without expecting anything in return, because Aven took time out of his busy Atlantis campaign to make a map table for me, and because Calo didn’t deserve to be vanished in Levi’s attempt to get me.

  I smiled weakly at Doug. “Okay, so how do I find Levi?”

  20

  The Quest Clause

  I stood at the edge of the Wildwood, willing myself to enter. “Darkness is just the absence of light,” I repeated for the ninth time.

  When I was little and light was just light and not something that traveled at the speed of 186,000 miles per second, I would run into Mom’s room and cry because of the dark. She would give me a hug, read me a fairy tale, and put me back into bed, telling me “Darkness is just the absence of light.” Then, she’d make some light: a night light, the hall light, or sometimes she’d leave a flashlight with me. But when I started school, I grew out of my fear. (Grew out of my fear = being able to sleep without supplemental light.)