She was precious.
        They had prepared her future, wrapped neatly in a silk ribbon of gold dust behind her. She couldn’t see it, of course. None of the fairies could. Not with their eyes, anyway. Her talents flew around in golden wisps of magic she could not see, but they were with her nonetheless, and she would carry them all through her life until she finally saw them – in her own reflection, in her own mind, in her own heart. It was the same idea for every fairy, yet each would write their story in their own words, their own plotline, their own style. She would evolve when the time came. For now, though, her future flew around her in its invisible specks of magic.
        They sent her to her assigned planet. This one was called “Earth,” a rather complex world run by human beings. The fairies there took the human form, and so would she. She arrived her first day of earth, mahogany eyes fluttering and curious, hair curling softly all around her head in dark ringlets, deep bronze skin that glowed a stunning amber glow. Her form was still a shifting ball of magic, but with a flicker of gold dust that would set her body to soon mimic the human’s, she was ready for the process to resume on Earth.
       The infant fairy was almost one of them, now. At least, in their eyes. So she was shipped to Society. Just as she couldn’t see her future, the fairies could not see the humans directly. Not unless they were in human form. She was handed first to Society, the magic power that the fairies could see. They set the baby into Society’s hands and flew away swift as a breeze. She was not to know of where she came from until she was older. She was a human now.
        Society looked her over. Still a round, glowing thing, only starting to shape into her human self, she did not scan properly. Luckily for Society, it knew exactly what to do.
        “To the box she goes!”
        In rolled the crate, white and straight with sharp edges and strict corners. Society took the infant into its hands, and before she could even let out a cry, the baby was stuffed and crammed into the space. The only thing protecting her delicate form from scraping against the edges and corners was her future, still flying around her, encasing her in an invisible shelter of soft gold.
       Society stared at the fairy, judging, thinking, deciding. Wondering what to do with her, perhaps. She didn’t fit. Perhaps something was to be taken out. Society’s hands plunged back into the box, swiping at the edges. It caught the future in its hands. In puffs of gold, out flew the images that the infant could not yet see. Society watched the images in silence.
        The first one, the baby as a small child. She wobbled around on chubby legs, her dark curls bouncing around her ears, her smile wide and her dimples big. Her legs could not hold her weight, though, and she kept falling. The next image emerged. The child was in a wheelchair, her teeth had all grown in, and she had acquired a unique sense of taste in her outfit choices. Her parents noticed this, and gifted her a drawing pad on which she splattered out colors and ideas that started as scribbles but transformed into works of genius. Then the next image. She had trouble making friends in her school, but she was trying hard and getting better every day. Her parents would take her to her doctor, where she would talk about her feelings, sometimes cry and let out anything she had bottled up, and come home with a huge grin and newly-designed stickers she would arrange in pretty patterns on her wheelchair. She excelled in all her subjects and classes. She was always the teachers’ favorite. Sometimes she doubted herself, but there was always that bit of fairy dust around to protect her, to soften the hardships and remind her that she was a precious creation very much needed on this planet. The next image arose. She found her first love, a human girl with crooked teeth that were ever so adorable, and an array of freckles that spread out like a galaxy over the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. She loved the human girl, and though she still was set back sometimes by the flaws she noticed in herself, the fairy was happy, and no one could wipe that smile off her face. Together with her true love, she expressed herself through her art, her smile, the splurges of color she left everywhere she went. She was set for anything that would come her way.
        As the next image began to ripple up into the air, Society clasped its hands together. It took a long look at the fairy infant. Then it averted its gaze to the image printed on the label that had been slapped onto the box’s side. On it was a picture of the baby that fit; the photograph Society had memorized and expected from every child sent for every box. A baby that would fit. Blond, tame hair. Identical blue eyes. Smooth pale skin. A body with legs that walked and a mind that would not require any talking about any feelings. Perhaps the art would not have room in this box, though. The baby would be able to communicate with the other humans, acquire friends. He would grow and pair up with a girl. Perhaps it would not be true love, though. He would not doubt himself, for he met all the requirements of the box and no less was expected of him. Perhaps he would not recognize his flaws, though. But he fit into the square exactly, with the same edges and the same corners. Perhaps the rest would not have room. But the sides lined up and the box closed neatly. Yes, this was the perfect fit.
        Society glanced back once more at the infant fairy who scrunched her face up and started to cry. Her tiny limbs were starting to take on their destined form, but she couldn’t move confined in that awful space.
        With a clasp of its hands, Society ordered a lid that sealed the box closed, jamming the infant’s fingers, the fairy still bawling and evolving inside. The magic was there to soften the blows, to be there for her when she arrived at her destination, to offer her some comfort when the box got too tight for her to breathe. She did not fit the label on the box. She would go around life as people read the label and expected the image. She would have to adjust the labels herself, if she could even move, wriggle out of the space and free herself. Society had the power to change the labels first, perhaps even to take them away, even do away with the horrid boxes themselves, but it blocked out the infant’s muffled cries that echoed softly through the air. She didn’t fit the product on the box. And Society liked its boxes.
        Luckily for Society, it knew exactly what to do.
        “Next!”
        The box was shipped into the world for delivery. Society would have to keep on shipping the infants until it came across the picture that matched – and then it would keep going, satisfied. The fairy baby had only her magic to protect her now, to steer her away from the label on the box, and the fairies on the planets circling around could only hope the box’s edges wouldn’t scrape and scratch her future too much for her to be able to see it when the time came.