Chapter 74: The Focused Gaze
It was a 100% literal case of being "under the microscope." At 10:00 Cycles, the vellum sky of the Bureau didn't just open; it was replaced by a Giant Silver Magnifying Glass that spanned the entire horizon.
The Gaze wasn't just observing; it was focusing the "Narrative Sun"—the raw, blinding light of the Author's intense attention—directly onto Section C-7.
"Commissioner!" Assistant Yue shrieked, her brass casing beginning to turn a scorched, cherry-red. "THE. TEMPERATURE. OF. THE. PLOT. IS. RISING. WE. ARE. AT. A. CRITICAL. BOILING. POINT. FOR. DRAMA. IF. WE. DO. NOT. COOL. DOWN. THE. BUREAU. WILL. LITERALLY. MELT. INTO. A. PUDDLE. OF. CLICHÉS."
The Melting Point of Reality
The heat was unlike anything Ne Job had ever felt. It wasn't just physical warmth; it was the pressure of being The Main Focus.
The Muse's hair was sparking so violently she looked like a supernova. "I can't... contain... the ideas!" she gasped. "I'm having seventy-five plot twists a second! I think I'm about to become a Trilogy!"
Architect Ao Bing watched as his blueprints began to curl and char. "The walls are losing their structural integrity! The limestone is turning back into 'Theoretical Concepts'!"
Pip was frantically trying to use their very small wrench to tighten the rivets on reality, but the metal was soft as taffy.
"The Author is looking too hard at us!" Ne Job realized, his silver-plumed hat starting to smoke. "When the spotlight is this bright, the characters burn out. We need to become Uninteresting, right now!"
The 7.5% Camouflage
"Junior! Get the 'Crate of Sub-plot Filler'! Pip, deploy the 'Banal Fog'!"
Ne Job realized that to escape the Focused Gaze, they had to stop being "Protagonists" and start being "Background Noise."
"Everyone!" Ne Job bellowed. "Stop doing things that are 'Exciting' or 'Meaningful'! We need to engage in Maximum Mundanity!"
The Art of the Boring
The team shifted gears into the most tedious activities imaginable.
Ne Job sat at his desk and began a 100% detailed audit of the Bureau's paperclip inventory (categorized by 'Curvature' and 'Standardized Shine').
The Muse forced her hair to turn a dull, matte beige and began reciting the "Instruction Manual for a 1994 Microwave" in a monotone voice.
Assistant Yue stopped typing trajectories and started printing a list of "Prime Numbers between 1 and 1,000,000,000."
The Focused Gaze wavered. The giant magnifying glass in the sky shifted slightly, its focus blurring. The Author's attention was wandering—after all, even the most dedicated creator can't stare at paperclip audits for long.
The Semicolon Heat-Sink
"It's working!" Ao Bing whispered, though he made sure not to whisper it too interestingly. "The light is spreading out! The temperature is dropping!"
But a single beam of high-intensity "Protagonist Energy" was still locked onto the Semicolon. The artifact was glowing white-hot, vibrating with the power of the "And" that was being targeted for a "Big Reveal."
Ne Job grabbed his silver stapler. He knew he couldn't hide the Semicolon, so he had to Ground the energy. He KA-CHUNKED a "Disclaimer of Significance" to the base of the Semicolon's pedestal.
"This is not a Clue!" Ne Job shouted at the sky. "This is not a Prophecy! It's just... a Punctuation Mark!"
The Shadow of the Mundane
The giant magnifying glass let out a sound like a disappointed sigh and withdrew back into the rafters of the vellum sky. The blinding light faded, replaced by the comfortable, 7.5% dimness of the Bureau's standard overhead lighting.
The walls solidified. The Muse's hair returned to its electric-neon blue. The dragon stopped being a rock and let out a long, smoky breath of relief.
LOG: CHAPTER 74 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Heatstroke averted. Spotlight evaded.
NOTE: I never want to count paperclips again. We have 4,302, by the way.
OBSERVATION: Sometimes the safest place to be is in the background. If you're too interesting, you get burned.
P.S.: The Muse is still stuck in 'Microwave Manual Mode.' I think we need to tell her a joke to reboot her.
The Muse blinked, her hair flickering back to life. "Did... did we survive? Is the Author looking at the 'Department of Romantic Sub-plots' now?"
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was cool to the touch, glowing with its usual, steady violet.
"I think so, Muse," Ne Job said, wiping sweat from his brow. "We're safe for now. But why is Assistant Yue sounding a 7.5% alarm and why has a Giant Silver Envelope just slid under the front door with a seal that says 'Urgently Overdue'?"