Chapter 16: The Vault of Forbidden Protagonists
The "Editors" had left a lingering chill in the air, a sterile cold that felt like the silence between sentences. Ne Job stood in the center of the Sub-Basement, his High Commissioner hat slightly lopsided. He knew that if the Great Eraser wanted to "trim the narrative," the best defense was to make the narrative so dense, so convoluted, and so thick with subplots that no editor in the multiverse could find the beginning, middle, or end.
"Architect," Ne Job said, his voice echoing off the rusted gears. "We need to go to the Deepest Archive. Not C-7. Not even the Sub-Basements. We need the Vault of Forbidden Protagonists."
Ao Bing's structural scanners flickered red. "Commissioner, that's a 100% violation of every safety protocol ever written. Those are the 'Main Characters' who were deemed too interesting for reality. They were archived because their mere presence causes plot-holes."
"Exactly," Ne Job replied, tapping the silver stapler against his palm. "If the Great Eraser wants a clean story, we're going to give them a thousand cliffhangers and ten thousand unresolved character arcs."
The Door of Infinite Backstory
The Vault was located behind a door that had no handle, only a mirror. To enter, one had to tell the mirror a secret about themselves that didn't fit their current character description.
The Muse stepped forward first. "I actually enjoy filing things in alphabetical order when no one is looking," she whispered. The mirror shivered and vanished.
Inside, the Vault was filled with glowing stasis-pods. Each pod held a figure frozen in a moment of dramatic tension. There was a detective who only solved crimes that hadn't happened yet; a knight whose sword was made of condensed moonlight and bad poetry; and a girl who could turn into a swarm of clockwork bees whenever she felt awkward.
"Look at them," Princess Ling whispered, her 7.5% translucent form shimmering with awe. "They are... intense."
"They are 100% too much," Assistant Yue agreed. "The Bureau's servers would crash if we let even one of them into a standard trajectory."
"We aren't letting them into a trajectory," Ne Job said, walking toward a central console. "We're letting them into the Bureau. I want them wandering the halls. I want them starting side-quests in the cafeteria. I want the 'Editors' to be so busy dealing with their backstories that they forget why they came here."
The Great Unfreezing
Ne Job slammed his High Commissioner Seal onto the console. "Override Authorization: Ne Job. Code: 7.5-Chaos-Tuna."
One by one, the stasis-pods hissed open.
The first to step out was a man wearing a coat made of maps. "Where is the antagonist?" he demanded, drawing a compass that glowed with a dangerous light. "I have a monologue prepared regarding the inevitability of the horizon!"
"Down the hall, third door on the left," Ne Job directed. "Go find someone in a white suit and tell them about your tragic childhood involving a lighthouse."
Next came a woman with hair made of actual thunderstorms. "Is this the climax?" she asked, her voice crackling with static. "I've been waiting for a dramatic rain-slicked rooftop for three eons."
"We're working on the rooftop," The Muse chirped, handing the woman a bucket of neon confetti. "In the meantime, could you go to the Department of Structural Form and complain about the lack of metaphorical weight in the architecture?"
Within minutes, the Vault was empty, and the Bureau was suddenly populated by fifty of the most complicated, high-maintenance individuals the universe had ever produced.
The Plot Thickens (Literally)
The effect was instantaneous. Upstairs in the Main Hall, the reality-meters began to spin wildly.
Ne Job and his team followed the new residents toward the elevators. When they reached the Grand Lobby, the scene was glorious. Three "Editors" had returned, pens at the ready, but they were currently trapped in a corner by the Map-Coat Man.
"But you don't understand!" the Map-Coat Man was shouting, waving a parchment that was currently rewriting itself. "My father wasn't just a map-maker! He was the map! And I am the ink! Does that mean I am my own father's blood, or am I the destination he never reached?"
The Editors looked physically pained. Their pens were clicking frantically, but every time they tried to "delete" the man, his coat simply generated a new territory for him to stand on.
"It's working," Ao Bing whispered, checking his monocle. "The narrative density in this sector has increased by 400%. The Great Eraser's signal can't penetrate the 'Angst' levels. It's like a lead shield made of feelings."
The Oracle's New Roommate
They found the Oracle in the VIP Lounge, sharing a bowl of Good Biscuits with a Forbidden Protagonist who was a literal personification of a "Plot Twist."
"I didn't see this coming," the Oracle admitted, looking delighted. "And I see everything! He just told me that he's actually my long-lost twin, but only on Tuesdays. It's brilliantly inconsistent!"
Ne Job sat down, finally removing his heavy hat for a moment. He looked at his team. They had successfully turned the Bureau from a rigid machine into a sprawling, chaotic epic.
"Commissioner," Assistant Yue said, her image now perfectly stable despite the chaos. "A message is coming through. Not from the Editors. From the Great Eraser itself."
The air in the room didn't turn white this time. It turned gray, like a leaden sky before a storm. A voice boomed, not from a mouth, but from the very space between atoms.
"YOU... ARE... MAKING... THE... STORY... UNREADABLE."
Ne Job stood up, pulling his ledger out one last time for the day. "That's the point," he said to the ceiling. "If you can't read us, you can't end us. We aren't a short story anymore. We're an infinite series."
"THERE... WILL... BE... A... CANCELLATION," the voice threatened.
"Try it," Ne Job challenged, holding up his silver stapler. "I have enough pending paperwork to keep you in litigation for the next twelve cycles of the Mainspring. And if you touch my Muse, I'll let the Storm-Hair woman loose in your home office."
The gray mist retreated, grumbling like a frustrated schoolteacher.
The Commissioner's Reflection
Ne Job sat back down and opened his book.
LOG: CHAPTER 16 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Bureau 100% over-populated. Narrative 100% convoluted.
NOTE: The Forbidden Protagonists are currently holding a poetry slam in Section C-7. It is 7.5% terrible, but 100% distracting.
THREAT LEVEL: High, but the 'Editors' are currently stuck in a conversation about the Map-Coat Man's lighthouse.
P.S.: I think I'm starting to like this hat.
The Muse leaned over and placed a fish-shaped biscuit on his ledger. "So, High Commissioner... what's the plan for Chapter 17?"
Ne Job looked at the "Plot Twist" man, then at the Architect, then at the bright, messy, loud Bureau around him.
"We go on a recruitment drive," Ne Job said. "I hear there's a dimension made entirely of Unfinished Sentences. They're going to love our new bridge."