Chapter 136: The Author's Ghost
The Bureau of Cosmic Alignment (BCA) was currently 100% quieter than usual, a state that Ne Job found deeply suspicious. Usually, Section C-7 hummed with the sound of shuffling trajectories and the distant, rhythmic thumping of the "Great Clockwork." But today, the air felt like a Blank Page.
Ne Job sat at his mahogany desk, staring at the black business card he had recovered from the ruins of the Lead Editor's throne. The gold-embossed symbol—a Full Stop inside a Circle of Gold—wasn't just a logo. When he looked at it through his magnifying loupe, the "Full Stop" appeared to be a tiny, perfectly round hole that led to an absolute, unblinking darkness.
"It's not cardstock," Assistant Yue reported, her scanners emitting a series of skeptical clicks. "MY. ANALYSIS. INDICATES. THAT. THIS. MATERIAL. IS. COMPOSTED. 'NARRATIVE. POTENTIAL'. IT. HAS. NO. WEIGHT, NO. SMELL, AND. NO. 'EDITORIAL. HISTORY'. IT. IS. A. 'PRE-EXISTENT. OBJECT'. IT. WAS. NOT. WRITTEN. INTO. THE. UNIVERSE; THE. UNIVERSE. WAS. WRITTEN. AROUND. IT."
The Search for the "First Person"
Ao Bing was pacing the perimeter of the desk, his leopard-skin robe fluttering with every frantic turn. "A pre-existent object? That's impossible! Everything has a 'Foundation'! Everything has a 'Zoning Permit' signed by the Supreme Architect! If this thing exists outside the 'Design', then we aren't just dealing with a 'Sequel Virus' anymore. We are dealing with a 'Re-Write'."
"And a total one at that," The Muse added. She was sitting atop a filing cabinet, her hair a flickering, contemplative indigo. She was absentmindedly twisting a "Spark of Curiosity" between her fingers. "If the 'Author' wants to close the book, he's not just going to delete Novus Aethel. He's going to delete the 'Authorial Intent' behind the Bureau. He's going to make it so we never even had a 'Once Upon a Time'."
Princess Ling leaned against a pillar, her silver dagger reflecting the violet glow of the Semicolon. "Then we find him before he reaches the 'End'. In my empire, if a scholar wrote a treasonous poem, we didn't burn the paper; we found the ink-maker. Ne Job, where does the 'Ink' come from?"
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. The artifact was pulsing with a rhythmic, urgent light. It wasn't pointing toward the Lobby or the Sub-Basement. It was pointing Up. Not toward the ceiling, but toward the "Header" of reality.
The Equation of Intent
"We need to go to the Inkwells of Origin," Ne Job declared. "The place where 'Plot' is pressurized into 'Reality'. If someone is trying to write a 'Final Draft', they'll need a massive amount of 'Absolute Ink' to make it stick."
Assistant Yue adjusted her internal optics, projecting a complex holographic map onto the "Living Marble" floor.
"COMMISSIONER. THE. INKWELLS. ARE. LOCATED. IN. THE. 'GREAT. MARGIN'. TO. REACH. THEM, WE. MUST. CALCULATE. THE. 'FORCE. OF. AUTHORIAL. WILL'."
She began to render a LaTeX formula in the air:
"IF. THE. 'AUTHOR'. IS. TRULY. ATTEMPTING. A. 'FULL. STOP', THE. VALUE. OF. 'LOGIC'. WILL. APPROACH. INFINITY, REDUCING. 'CREATIVITY'. TO. ZERO. WE. MUST. INTERCEPT. THE. FLOW. BEFORE. THE. 'DENSITY'. BECOMES. TOO. GREAT."
Entering the Great Margin
The transition to the Great Margin was unlike any other "Bureaucratic Commute." They didn't use a kettle, a portal, or a staircase. Ne Job simply picked up a massive, ancient fountain pen from his desk, dipped it into the "Full Stop" on the business card, and Drew a Door.
As the team stepped through, the Bureau vanished.
They were standing in a world of blinding, infinite whiteness. There was no floor, no sky, and no "Symmetry." There were only gargantuan, floating "Strips of Vellum" that stretched for billions of miles, covered in the scratchy, hurried handwriting of a creator in a rush.
"It's the Rough Drafts," The Muse whispered, her voice sounding 7.5% thinner in the vast space. "Every idea the universe ever had—and rejected—is floating here."
They walked past a floating island made of "Sentient Clouds that Only Speak in Haiku" and a forest of "Invisible Trees that Smell like Mathematical Certainty."
"Look!" Ao Bing pointed toward the center of the white void.
There, suspended in the air, was a structure that looked like a giant, glass hourglass. But instead of sand, it was filled with a swirling, iridescent black liquid: The Absolute Ink. And standing at the base of the hourglass was a figure that made Ne Job's heart skip a beat.
The Ghost of the Machine
The figure wasn't a monster. It wasn't a god. It was a man—or at least, the "Ghost" of one. He wore a frayed cardigan that smelled of "Old Coffee and Cigarettes," and his eyes were two glowing "Cursor Symbols" that blinked at a steady, rhythmic pace. He was holding a "Master Pen" that looked remarkably like the one Ne Job had just used.
"He looks... tired," Princess Ling whispered, her hand loosening on her dagger.
"He's not the 'Author'," Ne Job realized, stepping forward. "He's the 'Ghostwriter'. He's the one who does the work when the 'Author' has run out of things to say."
The Ghostwriter turned. His face was a blur of "Unfinished Sketches," shifting constantly between a young boy and a withered old man.
"You're late for the 'Re-Write'," the Ghostwriter said, his voice sounding like a pen scratching on dry paper. "The 'Author' has left the building. He's bored. He's tired of the 'Alignment'. He's tired of the '7.5% Whimsy'. He wants a 'Clean Slate'. He's given me the 'Final Command': Select All. Delete."
The Battle of the Blank Page
"You can't do that!" The Muse screamed, her hair exploding into a kaleidoscope of neon colors. "We're not just 'Data'! We're 'Stories'! We have 'Arcs'! We have 'Internal Monologues'!"
"An 'Arc' is just a line that hasn't realized it's part of a 'Circle'," the Ghostwriter sighed. He raised the Master Pen and made a slashing motion in the air.
Suddenly, the "Great Margin" began to De-Res. A massive section of the floating vellum turned into "Checkerboard Transparency"—the universal symbol for "Nothing Here."
"MY. SYSTEMS. ARE. LOSING. 'CONTEXT'!" Assistant Yue shouted, her metallic skin flickering. "I. AM. BECOMING. A. 'DESCRIPTION. OF. A. ROBOT'. INSTEAD. OF. A. 'ROBOT'!"
Barnaby the Goat, sensing the danger, attempted to eat the "Checkerboard Transparency," but he immediately let out a confused bleat and spat it out. Even a cosmic goat couldn't digest "Non-Existence."
The Archivist's Counter-Draft
Ne Job felt his own feet becoming "Vague." He looked down and saw that his polished boots were now just "Two Dark Shapes."
"I am Ne Job!" he shouted, the Semicolon in his hand flaring with a fierce, violet defiance. "Head Archivist of Section C-7! I am the keeper of the 'And'! You cannot delete me because I am the one who Files the Deletion!"
The Ghostwriter paused, the "Cursor" in his eyes blinking faster. "You... you have 'Archival Immunity'?"
"I have 'Narrative Necessity'!" Ne Job countered. He pointed the Semicolon at the giant hourglass of Absolute Ink. "If you delete us, there is no one to read the 'Final Draft'. And a story without a reader is just a 'Null Vector'!"
Ne Job didn't attack the Ghostwriter. He attacked the Hourglass.
Using the Semicolon like a glass-cutter, he etched a tiny, violet mark onto the side of the glass.
"What are you doing?" the Ghostwriter asked, his voice trembling.
"I'm adding a Footnote," Ne Job said.
The Ink-Spill of Infinity
The hourglass cracked.
Instead of a "Final Draft" being written, the Absolute Ink exploded outward in a 100% uncontrolled "Ink-Spill." The iridescent black liquid flooded the Great Margin, covering the "Rough Drafts," the "Checkerboard Transparency," and the "Ghostwriter" himself.
But the ink didn't erase anything. Because it was "Absolute," it gave everything it touched Permanent Definition.
The "Sentient Clouds" became solid. The "Invisible Trees" became visible. Assistant Yue's skin turned into a shimmering, indestructible "Chromium-Vellum." And the Ghostwriter's face stopped shifting; it settled into a permanent expression of "Surprised Relief."
The "Great Margin" was no longer a white void. It was a "Galaxy of Unfinished Ideas," all of them now possessing the right to exist without being "Deleted."
The Archivist's Log
The team found themselves back in the Lobby of the BCA. The "Living Marble" was now 7.5% darker, stained by the Absolute Ink, but it felt more "Solid" than ever before.
LOG: CHAPTER 136 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Deletion halted. The "Great Margin" has been "Self-Published."
NOTE: A Ghostwriter is just a writer who forgot he has "Agency."
OBSERVATION: The Absolute Ink has made my tie 100% "Non-Iron," which is a significant bureaucratic victory.
P.S.: The "Ghostwriter" has requested an "Entry-Level Position" in the Department of Creative Sparks. The Muse is currently interviewing him for the role of "Professional Doodler."
Ne Job sat at his desk and looked at the black business card. The "Full Stop" was gone. In its place was a tiny, gold-embossed Semicolon.
"The 'Author' is still out there," Princess Ling said, cleaning her blade. "But now he has a 'Co-Author'."
"Actually," Ne Job said, looking at the Great Ledger. "I think he has a 'Sub-Editor'."
Suddenly, the "Great Clockwork" below the floor emitted a sound like a happy, well-oiled machine. But then, a red light began to flash on Ne Job's desk.
"COMMISSIONER," Assistant Yue reported, her voice now sounding like "High-Definition Brass." "WE. HAVE. A. 'NARRATIVE. EMERGENCY'. IN. SECTOR. 4. IT. APPEARS. THE. 'INK-SPILL'. HAS. CAUSED. A. 'CHARACTER. OVERFLOW'. EVERY. BACKGROUND. CHARACTER. IN. THE. SECTOR. HAS. SUDDENLY. REALIZED. THEY. ARE. THE. 'PROTAGONIST. OF. THEIR. OWN. STORY'."
Ne Job sighed and grabbed his pen. "A sector full of protagonists? That's 100% a nightmare for filing."