Modern Fairytales

Megacorp towers puncture the sky,

Mocking nature by absorbing the sun and casting

Their cruel shadows amongst the storied

Architecture in Manhattan.

Beneath gleaming promises of windowed steel,

Lives Cinder.

*

Misshapen. Ugly. Ignored. Beaten.

Cinder's spirit flickers as

Digital queen, Nexus Aurelia,

Cinder’s stepmother,

Reigns over Megacorp with crushing robotic fist.

Code and binary ambition replacing empathy

Fueled by a heart of unfeeling machine.

*

Aurelia’s sons worship the algorithms of clocks,

Tyrannically scheduling their sister’s day,

Their glitched hearts encouraging erosion of emotion,

Trading truth for alternative facts.

Twin siblings of note,

Byproducts of cold code,

Calculating, concerned only with profit and plots.

*

Amongst the wires and circuit boards,

Cinder suffers in tyrannical jest,

Forced to hide her fire,

her art and passion,

Underneath her pretty dress.

In the bowels of one labyrinthine spire,

Amidst the grey décor and petty thrones,

Cinder toils in her cubicle,

A spark of defiance forming in her chest

As she struggles with problems alone.

*

But in this world soaked in neon's stare,

Where dreams are commodities traded and shared,

Expressions demand a toll.

For expressing “Nothing” in words,

For privileges absurd,

The overhead must be covered in full.

*

The pale glow of a screen illuminates Cinder’s face.

Scrolling through options,

Her cursor hovers over choices made,

Contemplating the implications of her purchase.

Doing the math.

Uncertainty hangs in the air.

With a resolute click,

Cinder confirms her intent,

And prays the resources well-spent.

*

The masquerade ball is virtually surreal,

Megacorp's annual employee event.

The fare of admission,

Is quite fairly submission.

Hush now. Take the deal.

Choosing glass boats for feet,

Arms draped in silicon sheets,

Cinder sails through a pixelated sea.

Light emanates outward from her wake,

A matrix of ones and zeroes designed to bring peace,

Refracting in brilliant stimulation.

*

Waltzing out of her dreams,

Enjoying the protections of a stocky bouncer in suit and bowtie,

A handsome young figure emerges and glances her way.

With a smile, she is invited into VIP,

To glimpse an exclusive peak of life behind the rope.

Glancing furtively at the gatekeeper,

Cinder must only speak her desires,

The cost is automatically deducted for convenience and a fee.

*

Taking a moment to optimize her appearance,

Cinder takes the hand of the stranger,

Allowing herself to be led in time to the music.

Gentle sways follow quick steps,

Forming an intricate pattern of ripples as her feet

Insist upon making occasional contact with the ground.

*

No longer self-conscious of her default settings,

Cinder threads across the dance floor,

The hours purchased blurring away in minutes.

Swept up in the spectacle and warmth,

Cinder melts into the arms of her unlikely hero,

Her heart threatening to fill her eyes with tears.

Alive. Awake. Alert. Enthusiastic.

Giggling while catching her breath,

Cinder embraces the forgotten feeling of connection…

*

The music softens. The dance nears the end.

Cinder and her partner exchange a final, lingering gaze.

She knows the moment is fleeting as the dance,

A flicker of authenticity obvious against the digital facade.

Behind her eyes, a storm brews,

A clash of gratitude and resentment,

For the hours she’s waited,

And the faces she’s known,

For the privilege of paying to glimpse something real.

*

As the contents of her purse continue to dwindle,

Cinder finds her time running out.

She paid only to play a small part,

Else those who spent more may grow envious

Of her undeserved, preferential treatment.

A rising tide of disgruntled nobles,

Vocally expressing their displeasure to her mother.

Soon Cinder must leave,

The meter of the dream continuing to climb,

No longer supported by the earnings of reality.

*

Yet for now,

Cinder spins and twirls in the recesses of her mind,

Writing haptic memories of digital imagination.

Even as her truth hides in the dark,

Curtains drawn ‘gainst the dishonest glare

Reflecting on the windowed steel’s gleam,

That form the digital schemes of prison.

Unwashed, disheveled,

Aware of the loss,

Shivering against the chill.