The Last Fairy Tale (2 page)

 “Good morning, children,” Mr. Gloome growled into the tube in a low, raspy voice, “and staff.” He rolled his eyes. “That was the first bell of the day, and as you all know, that means GET UP!” The booming echoes from the last words vibrated through the orphanage walls, causing even the deepest sleepers to wake.

 He closed the cover of the speaking tube and cackled, feeling quite pleased. Believing that no one on earth could do his job better, Mr. Gloome grabbed the syringe he had placed on his desk and held it to his face. “Good morning, my pretty!” he murmured, smiling triumphantly at the syringe. Then, without hesitation, he removed the cap and jammed the needle into his arm, injecting the vaccine. After tossing the empty syringe carelessly into a nearby trashcan, he left his office to begin his day.

 Out in the hallway, Mr. Gloome could hear the usual echo from the quiet shuffling of the nannies as they hurried up the main staircase to get the children from their rooms. The nannies moved quite quickly through the dimly lit hallways, never tripping or bumping into one another. Thirteen years of having to deal with the poor lighting given off by candles had forced the orphanage’s staff to learn to work in near darkness. The sound of the quiet shuffling was the last warning for the children to be up and ready. As soon as the children heard their nannies approaching, they knew they had better be waiting by their bedroom doors. The punishment for tardiness was a visit to Mr. Gloome’s office, which was precisely why Mr. Gloome paused at the foot of the main staircase every morning. Orphanage regulations stated that children should be disciplined using gentle reminders and positive reinforcement, and Mr. Gloome absolutely loved to administer “positive reinforcement.”

 “Children!” bellowed two nannies in unison. They each were standing at the ends of two long hallways.

 “Open!” There was a massive amount of screeching as every metal door along each hallway slowly swung open.

 “Out!” Tired-looking children shuffled out of their rooms down each hallway.

 “Attention!” ordered the nannies. Standing up straight, the children turned to face the nannies. They had now formed themselves into lines, one along either side of each hallway.

 “Follow!” The children began to follow their nannies out of the hall and down the stairs to the main hallway.

 Mr. Gloome, looking a bit disappointed that no children needed positive reinforcement, continued to the dining hall, where he would hurriedly grab his breakfast before the children arrived.

 The dining hall smelled of NutriCurd, a hydroponically produced, nutrient-enriched bean curd product. One child had taken the liberty of renaming it Crud after she had discovered the word in a dictionary. But today the Crud hadn’t been enhanced, which made for a less-than-appetizing stench. Mr. Gloome was rather displeased by this discovery and stomped toward the kitchen, ready to argue with Mr. Dewberry, the cook.

 “Where’s my breakfast, you overgrown troll!” yelled Mr. Gloome as he burst into the cramped, sparse kitchen. He walked in so quickly that he nearly bumped into the large man standing on the other side of the door. Alban Dewberry was a hefty man with short fiery hair and a bushy red beard. At first glance, his massive trunk-like arms and piercing emerald eyes seemed intimidating, but after he smiled, he immediately transformed into the world’s largest teddy bear.

 “Sorry, sir...” said Mr. Dewberry, turning his face to the floor. “I’m jus’ a bit distracted as o’ late. Not feelin’ great, if ye know wot I mean.”

“I don’t care how you feel, you blundering baboon!” shouted Mr. Gloome, throwing his hands in the air. “You have one job, and that’s to feed these filthy children and have my meals ready when I arrive. How can you
possibly
 mess that up?”

 “Well...” Mr. Dewberry began in a soft whimper, “I do have yer meal, sir. It’s here.” He turned around and picked up an intricately crafted glass plate. In the plate’s center sat a single white cube of Crud.

Mr. Gloome’s eyes widened as he stammered to find the most appropriate insulting words to say. “How could you–…What do you take me f–… This is an
outrage
!”

 “I ‘pologize deeply, sir,” Mr. Dewberry muttered, “but I had a bit o’ trouble gettin’ out o’ bed this mornin’, an’ I could only manage to serve it without enhancin’ it.”

 “Don’t give me those pathetic excuses, you idiot,” seethed Mr. Gloome through clenched teeth. “I will be reporting you to the Coalition immediately. They’ll see to it that things get done around here, I assure you.” With that, Mr. Gloome snatched his plate from Mr. Dewberry’s hand and bustled out of the kitchen.

 Mr. Dewberry sighed and sat down on a nearby stool. The last thing he needed was Mr. Gloome threatening to replace him.

“What if I have it?” he murmured to himself, putting his head in his hands. “I’m certain I do. It’s only a matter o’ time. Now Gloome is threatinin’ to replace me, but is there anybody even
left
 to replace me?” He sighed heavily. “What am I gonna do? Oh, Nachton...”

 The sound of the children’s footsteps drifted into the kitchen as they filed into the dining hall. Mr. Dewberry pulled himself laboriously from the stool, walked over to a metal cart that held the children’s trays of Crud, and wheeled it out of the kitchen and into the dining hall.

 The dining hall consisted of two long metal tables—one for the boys and one for the girls. Mr. Dewberry pushed the cart between the tables, and the nannies began passing out the trays. Before the nannies had taken them all, Mr. Dewberry grabbed a tray from the bottom of the cart and walked to the end of the boys’ table.

 Nachton Dewberry sat alone, his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. The boy was particularly frail with dark rings under his bright green eyes. His black hair only served to bring attention to his pale complexion.

 “Oi, lad,” said Mr. Dewberry as he sat the tray in front of his son. “How’d ye sleep las’ night?”

 “I didn’t,” replied Nachton in a faint voice, almost a whisper.

 “Ye’ve got to try, laddie. Can’t have ye fallin’ asleep in class now, can we?” Mr. Dewberry forced a chuckle and patted his son on his back. Feeling his son’s cold, bony shoulder brought tears to his eyes.

 “You have it, don’t you, Dad?” whispered Nachton. Mr. Dewberry went cold.

 “Nachton, I–” Mr. Dewberry responded, but he was interrupted before he could finish.

 “Mr. Dewberry! We’re one tray short,” shouted a nanny. Mr. Dewberry stared at his son, unable to decide what to do. After a few seconds, he looked up.

 “I’ll go grab it right away,” he said to the nanny. He looked back at Nachton. “We’ll talk later, okay, lad?” He then turned and walked back toward the kitchen.

 Nachton examined the tray that his father had brought him. On its center sat a cube of enhanced Crud. Tears filled his eyes and he silently cried as he ate.

* * * * *

 After breakfast, the nannies led the children to the two classrooms across the main hall. Here the children would attend general studies and physical education, the latter of the two classes being nearly every child’s favorite part of the day. The children were divided up, and a girl and a boy were chosen for each class at random until everyone had been assigned. The students went to their assigned class first and then later switched to the other class for the second half of the day. Needless to say, everyone tried to stand out to be chosen for physical education. However, one child always tried to get into general studies first, because she was curious and hungry for knowledge. Olivia Wickworth ducked behind as many of her classmates as she could so that the physical education class would become full, thus gaining her a position in general studies.

 After only a few students remained, Olivia stood up straight, her ghostly white hair tucked behind her ears. She had figured that most of the remaining children would be chosen for general studies, because roughly half of them had already been chosen for physical education. Her calculations were correct.

 In the general studies classroom, Ms. Canterbry instructed the children to take five sheets of paper and a pencil from her desk before taking a seat in one of the cold, metal desks. Olivia grabbed her materials and took a seat near the back of the room.

 “Stand,” Ms. Canterbry said. She was one of the oldest nannies in the orphanage. She had long grey hair that was usually kept in a tight bun atop her head. Her back was bent forward, showing her age. She looked the children over with her stern eyes as they all stood. “Recite,” she said, and the class began to chant in unison.

“A shelter provided for me to stay

healthy and strong every day.

A nanny to teach, a nanny to guide,

always let the nanny decide.

We will work hard to reclaim what is ours,

we, the future of the Coalition of Powers.”

 Olivia moved her mouth to the words, but didn’t speak them. She was convinced that something about the Coalition wasn’t quite right, but she wasn’t satisfied with what little information she could gather in her own investigation. After the pledge ended, the children sat back in their desks and stared up at Ms. Canterbry, waiting for her instructions.

 “Today’s lesson will be primarily about science,” Ms. Canterbry announced as she slowly walked down an aisle between the children with her hands in front of her most of the time. Unlike the other nannies, she had trouble adjusting to the dark atmosphere and was prone to bumping into things.

 “You all know that science is the most important of the studies. It is the very tool that will help you to understand the world.” She turned at the back of the room and started back up another aisle. “Yes, you all know this...”

 She paused for a moment. The children looked up at her and could see that she seemed distracted.

 “Ms. Canterbry, are you okay?” asked one of the children from the front of the room. Ms. Canterbry seemed to snap out of her thoughts.

 “That is irrelevant, child,” she said and continued. “Children, please take out your pencils and prepare to write a few rules you must know in order to properly study science.” She returned to her desk at the front of the room and fumbled around for something that she couldn’t see.

 “Just there, Ms. Canterbry, to your left,” said a child who was sitting in front of the desk.

 Ms. Canterbry grabbed a piece of chalk and thanked the child. She then walked around the desk to a chalkboard flanked by two candles. She scratched down the first rule.

1. Science is the most powerful knowledge.

 The room was filled with the sound of pencil lead scratching against paper as the children wrote down the rule. Ms. Canterbry turned toward the children.

 “Science can heal, but it can also kill,” she said, slowly looking around into the children’s large, shining eyes. She turned back to the chalkboard and wrote the second rule.

2. Science has no boundaries.

 The children scribbled down the rule.

 “Science can give you much, but how much is enough?” she asked, although it wasn’t a question to which she expected an answer. She turned to write the third rule.

3. Science is necessary.

 Once again the children wrote the rule on their papers.

 “This rule is self-explanatory,” she said. "I am required to give you these three rules. However, today I am going to give you some rules of my own.”

 There was a faint rustle as each of the children quickly looked up at her in amazement. Olivia even gasped, but put her hand over her mouth. Ms. Canterbry’s behavior was extremely unusual. In her thirteen years of life, Olivia had heard only what was required. Either something was terribly wrong with Ms. Canterbry, or today was Olivia’s lucky day.

 “Please write these new rules down,” Ms. Canterbry said, turning to the chalkboard where she scratched down three different rules.

1. Science is dangerous.

2. Boundaries must be put into place.

3. Science is not always necessary.
 

 She slowly turned around to face the children, all of which had stunned expressions on their faces. Without looking down she placed the chalk back on the desk. She appeared drained and frightened, but somehow relieved.

 “P-please use the remainder of the time to practice finding derivatives in calculus using the problems on the board,” she said in a voice that sounded absent. She slid one of the candles down to another part of the board where she had previously written mathematical equations. She then slowly shuffled out of the room.

 The children looked around at each other in shock. They had never seen Ms. Canterbry act in such a manner. And to suddenly leave the classroom before class was over...

 “What’s wrong with her?” one child blurted out.

 “Yeah, that was very much unlike her,” said another.

 “Be quiet, everyone!” shouted a girl from the front of the room. “She has given us an assignment and that is our highest priority right now. I suggest you all get started.”

The children agreed, and everyone started working out the equations. Everyone, that is, except Olivia. She was still stunned. Something wasn’t right.
The way Ms. Canterbry looked... It wasn’t right... But what’s more is what she said...
 thought Olivia.

 All her life, Olivia had been led to believe that science was everything and that everyone had to embrace it. But only a few minutes ago, Ms. Canterbry, one of the wisest and most respected of the nannies, had informed the class that she didn’t think so highly of science.

 Olivia made a mental note to jot down what had happened in class in her diary later that evening. Private notes and speculation outside the classroom were against the rules, so she had to record her notes in secret. She continued to turn the thought over in her mind until class ended.

 When the bell rang, the other children placed their papers on Ms. Canterbry’s desk and made their way to physical education. Olivia quickly scribbled down some numbers and tucked her paper near the bottom of the stack before leaving the classroom. She usually did her assignments, but today she had been far too distracted.