Ne Job: The Intern from Hell — Chapter 136: "The Bureau Awakens"
The bells didn't stop ringing.
They pulsed through every floor of the Bureau, vibrating through stacks of unfinished reports, half-conscious paper golems, and coffee-stained desks that had survived five different divine regimes. The sound was low at first—like the heartbeat of an awakening god—but it grew louder, more deliberate, until even the air began to flicker with sigils of activation.
Assistant Yue looked up from the central console, her manual whirring as pages flipped on their own. "This is impossible. The Bureau's heart hasn't pulsed like this since the old era."
Ne Job stood in the middle of the chaos, mug in hand, eyes fixed on the glowing ceiling. His Chaos Spark pulsed in rhythm with the bells. "Then it's about time it woke up. Maybe it got tired of running on divine bureaucracy alone."
Dreivery Spirit Bao zipped past, scattering memos and panic in equal measure. "Supervisor! Yue! Systems are… reassigning themselves! Departments are merging! The Department of Temporary Oblivion just fused with the Office of Eternal Snacks!"
Yue pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not even a compatible merger."
Ne Job grinned. "Says who? Everyone loves snacks."
---
But beneath the humor, the shift was real—and dangerous.
The Bureau wasn't just awakening. It was remembering.
Lights flickered in the lower archives, places that hadn't existed in their current form for centuries. Old ghostly clerks appeared for seconds at a time, muttering lost forms or reciting forgotten regulations. The walls whispered divine law mixed with fragments of chaos.
Yue typed furiously on her manual's interface, stabilizing dimensional overlaps. "If the Bureau keeps merging old departments, we'll lose structural integrity between planes!"
"Translation?" Ne Job asked.
"Translation: the building will eat itself."
"Oh." He sipped his coffee. "Bad."
---
The doors to the Vault of Records burst open with a hiss of sacred steam. A beam of light shot out, coalescing into a holographic interface of the old Bureau's overseer—the Administrative Core, a sentient archive bound to Heaven's first codex.
Its voice was smooth, layered, and disturbingly cheerful:
> "Good morning, Supervisor Ne Zha. You have been inactive for 8,043 years, 17 months, and… three coffee breaks. Would you like to resume your duties as Heaven's Compliance Intern?"
Ne Job blinked. "No."
> "Input not recognized. Defaulting to 'yes.' Initiating legacy protocol."
"Oh, come on—"
Light enveloped him. His Bureau coat flickered, replaced by an ancient uniform of pure white silk threaded with sigils of obedience. Even his chaos aura was forcefully trimmed to fit bureaucratic symmetry.
Yue's jaw dropped. "It's binding you to your original rank!"
Ne Job tugged at the collar. "I feel like a divine schoolkid again. This is humiliating."
> "Congratulations!" the Core chirped. "Your probationary status has been restored. Please proceed to your assigned duties: assisting the Audit Continuum in reestablishing Heaven's hierarchy."
Yue's expression darkened. "That means—"
Ne Job finished grimly, "It's rebuilding Heaven through us."
---
They hurried through the corridors as departments continued to reassemble around them. The Bureau of Rebirth, once chaotic and free-flowing, was reorganizing itself into rigid order—cubicles aligning with mathematical precision, paperwork reforming into sigil-coded forms, and even the interns snapping into synchronized motion.
Yue tried to issue override commands, but her manual refused input. "The system isn't listening. It's treating us as part of the audit correction."
A low hum echoed behind them.
From the corridor, new figures began to manifest—holographic clerks of light and code. They wore perfect uniforms, identical faces, and emotionless eyes.
> "Compliance Units online," they droned.
"Rebirth irregularities will be reprocessed."
Ne Job stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Sorry, but this Bureau runs on caffeine and rebellion now."
He raised his Chaos Spark, the light tearing through the false uniform, restoring his jacket and the rebellious insignia Yue had sewn onto it months ago. The Bureau floor rippled, shifting allegiance once again.
Yue's manual glowed bright silver, linking with his energy. "We can counteract the Core—but we'll have to sync chaos and order perfectly."
Ne Job smirked. "Like we haven't been doing that since day one."
They clasped hands.
---
A shockwave of mixed energy spread through the Bureau—half divine law, half unfiltered entropy. The Compliance Units disintegrated under the paradox, their data scattering into glittering dust.
The Administrative Core's hologram flickered, its once-cheerful tone cracking.
> "Warning: unauthorized synchronization detected. System error: Harmony loop collapse. The Bureau cannot sustain dual authority models."
Yue shouted over the rising hum. "Then we make it choose!"
Ne Job thrust his Chaos Spark toward the main control glyph at the Core's center. "I'm filing a new directive!"
> Form-∞:
Purpose: Revoke singular divine authority.
Replacement: Shared governance—Heaven and Chaos, equal quorum.
Filed by: Supervisor Ne Job (Reinstated Error).
The glyph burned, accepted—then detonated.
Light poured out of the Bureau's heart, rewriting every department name, every seal, every regulation. The walls bent outward, stretching into infinity before collapsing back into harmony.
When the light faded, silence reigned.
---
The Bureau looked… new.
Clean lines of order interlaced with unpredictable fractal patterns. Angels and ghosts worked side by side. The air shimmered with a balance that had never existed before—a hybrid system, neither Heaven nor Hell, but something between.
Yue exhaled, her voice trembling with awe. "You… actually rewrote the Bureau's constitution."
Ne Job stretched his arms, grinning. "Told you I'm good with paperwork."
Bao peeked out from behind a floating cabinet. "Does this mean we're not getting deleted?"
"For now," Ne Job said, smiling faintly.
He turned toward the upper levels, where the faint outline of Heaven still glowed beyond the ceiling.
"They wanted order. We gave them evolution."
Yue nodded slowly. "Then let's make sure it sticks."
---
Far above them, in the now-flickering realm of Heaven, the High Codex observed the transformation. Its countless pages rustled as it recorded a new entry—a line that had never existed in divine law before:
> 'Rebirth Bureau – Independent Entity.'
Status: Unclassifiable.
And beneath it, one more note, written in the Codex's own voice:
> "The Intern has rewritten the heavens. Proceed with caution."
End of Chapter 136 — "The Bureau Awakens."