Edited By: Fiza Mishra
So, I got into FairyGodmother Inc as an intern with a 12k monthly stipend. All those people who told me not to believe in fairytales? Ha bloody ha.
And what do we do in FairyGodmother Inc? We make your dreams come true, we make the world your oyster – we help you achieve every cliche you can think of.
Gotcha, didn’t I? I’m just reading from the company website. I don’t know what they do here. I just applied for the stipend.
But now it’s showtime and I don’t even know what team I work in. Under? With? Alongside? What even is a corporate lexicon?
Don’t be fooled by all the unicorns and rainbows decor. It is a corporation. You can see it beneath the rose-candy veneer.
Also what fairytale aesthetic uses pink? No fairy would use such enormous amounts of hot pink in their daily life. Unless it’s a company-mandated uniform – like the person walking up to me.
Well, they do have some work for me. Surprise, surprise. I thought they’d have me run to the swamps for ogre-brewed liquor. Maybe they don’t have much of a day-drinking thing going on.
The person keeps on talking while I stare at the peppermint buttons on their blazer. If they loom over me anymore, I’ll die from all the sugary berry cologne they are wearing.
So I’m told that I need to report to Observation Deck Number 15. The OG Character Department is working there.
Will I be dissected? Choke on cotton candy? Braid a centaur’s hair with the colors of the rainbow?
I walk to the deck. I wonder if they are going to give me an LOR. They better. I might get diabetes just from all the sweet air.
I don’t like the non-cubicle nature of this office. Everything is so open and everyone is so smiley. Where are the overtime workers? Where are the enormous eye bags? Where are the workers making evil signs at the supervisor?
So much harmony. Ugh.
The peppermint blazer person is escorting me to the deck. You thought they’d just let the intern navigate the office alone? Please. Corporate workers love hand-holding. Fairies love it even more. The person drones on as I wonder if I can ask them for a peppermint from their blazer.
Oh, maybe I should listen. Aren’t you supposed to make connections in your internship? Though only Magic knows what a person wearing red, white, and hot pink together would do for me.
They tell me that this is the best place to work– they never restrict their employees’ creativity. That’s what they all say. Then they’ll say the articles aren’t trendy enough for the Sirens. They’ll say that the Werewolves are offended. The Vampires are bored. The Trolls need more riddles. The worst thing? When the Witches start calling your content a cheap drug like fairie dust. The audacity of these people who spend most of their days high on potion fumes. What do they know about literature?
I ask the peppermint blazer person what exactly the OG Department does. They tell me that the department creates never before seen characters. Well, well, well. It seems like my god complex and I have come to the right place.
What will I be doing today? I ask the peppermint wearer.
They reply that the department is trying to create the Ashoka Student.
Oh wow, so interesting. A college student. I am beyond interested. Fascinating. Mind-blowing. Wow. (I hope you got the sarcasm.)
I ask them if I actually get to do any work. They chuckle as they leave me behind yellow-pink railings, looking over a misty field.
The mist is red and blue with random +1s and exclamation marks floating around. Are there people in there?
A shout goes up as orange light flares. Did they blow up a human being?
“Shit, what is this one?”
“Hello, I think that there is a strict hegemony…”
A yelp, another flare of orange.
“Did we get it right this time?”
“Hey, I think that’s a very right-wing stance…”
A grunt, another flare of orange.
“Now?”
“Professor, what dating advice do you have for your students?”
A sigh, another flare of orange.
“Did we fix it? Please tell me we fixed I?”
“You see, a perfect competition market allows for no profit…”
A shout and this time a huge red fractal pattern screeches across the whole room. I blink my eyes, blinded.
“Did we get it right?”
“What am I, master? Your creation?”
“Oh bloody hell.”
The red fractal appears again. Softer this time.
“Now?”
“Am I you? Or have you othered me? What do you see me as – your object or your subject?”
“God, I want to go home.”
I am fascinated as another softer red fractal flares. I didn’t know professionals could be such messes.
“You cannot reclaim me anymore!”
The mist clears up after that shout. I straighten from my slouching.
There are four people on the field. Three of them are arranged as the points of a triangle while the fourth one is in the middle. I think the three triangle points are the office workers – let’s call them A, B, and C in the spirit of geometry.
I suppose the middle one is their so-called OG Ashoka Student.
I call out, “So? What did yall make?”
The three startle. The OG Ashokan Student (Let’s call this person ASG, to make things easier for me) doesn’t look up, pondering… something I suppose. Perhaps how a person always farts when they’re nervous.
A mutters to C, “Who the hell is that?”
B responds, “The intern.”
A, “An intern? For what? What’s wrong with the management?”
C, “That is why you will never get a promotion.”
Man, adults are so predictable. Do you want to know what the hierarchy between A, B, and C is like? C doesn’t care about this company, having been offered a more prestigious position somewhere else. B is just here for the money. A has an inferiority complex.
ASG whirls around and stares at me. Do they want my soul?
They say gravely, “Never go to a white dude’s class while wearing wet socks.”
What in the name of Ashoka is this?