Chapter 78: The Memory Bubbles
The Bureau had a way of turning the personal into the professional, but this was a 100% breach of privacy. At 15:00 Cycles, the air in the Grand Lobby didn't just thicken; it began to shimmer and pop. From the vents of the Department of Human Trajectories, a swarm of Giant Silver Bubbles drifted upward, each one acting as a curved, panoramic screen.
"Commissioner," Assistant Yue's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "THESE. ARE. NOT. EXTERNAL. FILES. THEY. ARE. 7.5%. PURE. NOSTALGIA. THE. BUREAU. IS. ATTEMPTING. TO. 'INDEX'. YOUR. ORIGINS. TO. ENSURE. YOUR. ALIGNMENT. REMAINS. CALIBRATED."
The Gallery of the Young Plume
Ne Job stood frozen as a bubble the size of a carriage drifted past his nose. Inside, he saw a much smaller version of himself—a Mini-Job—sitting in a sandbox. But instead of building castles, the boy was meticulously sorting the sand by grain size and color.
"Look at that focus!" Pip exclaimed, peering into a bubble where a teenage Ne Job was seen reorganizing his school's library by the "Emotional Weight of the Adverbs." "You were born for the silver stapler, Boss!"
"It's an Origin Audit," The Muse whispered, her hair pulsing with a sympathetic lavender glow. "The Bureau is looking for the 'Why' of Ne Job. It's trying to find the 7.5% spark that turned a boy into an Archivist."
The 7.5% Mystery
As the bubbles multiplied, they began to show more than just memories; they showed Drafted Realities.
One bubble showed a Ne Job who became a Clockmaker in a sleepy village.
Another showed a Ne Job who became a Revolutionary Poet, leading a charge against the "Tyranny of the Full Stop."
The largest bubble, however, remained dark. It was labeled: THE UNPUBLISHED MOTIVATION.
"That's the one the Bureau wants," Architect Ao Bing said, checking the pressure of the room. "The memory that defines your 'And.' If the Bureau indexes it, it owns your history. You'll be 100% predictable."
The Breach of the Inner Sanctum
The dark bubble began to pulse, pulling in the light from the other memories. It started to reveal a scene: a young Ne Job standing before a Giant Blank Page, holding a pen that was far too heavy for him.
"I remember this," Ne Job muttered, his silver plume drooping. "It was the day I realized that the Page was empty not because it was broken, but because it was waiting. I didn't want to write on it; I wanted to make sure it stayed open for everyone else."
A mechanical arm from the ceiling—the Grand Indexer—descended, prepared to pop the bubble and record the "Primary Motivation" into the permanent record.
The Staple of Self-Identity
Ne Job realized that if his "Why" became a "Fact," he would lose his edge. An Archivist must be the one who organizes, not the one who is organized.
"Pip! The wrench! Give me the 'Paradox-Patch'!"
Ne Job didn't let the Indexer touch the memory. He pulled the Semicolon from his belt and thrust it into the dark bubble. The violet light didn't record the memory; it Obscured it. He then used his silver stapler to KA-CHUNK a "Classified" seal directly onto the surface of the bubble.
"I am the Commissioner!" Ne Job declared to the ceiling. "My origins are Proprietary Information! You can audit my paperclips, you can audit my desk, but you cannot index my 'And'!"
The Dissolving of the Past
The Semicolon's energy caused a feedback loop in the Indexer. The mechanical arm retracted, its gears grinding in confusion. The silver bubbles, unable to be filed, began to pop one by one, releasing a fine mist that smelled like old paper and 7.5% rain.
The Lobby returned to normal. The "Mini-Jobs" vanished. The sepia tint faded.
LOG: CHAPTER 78 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Origin Audit blocked. Privacy 100% maintained.
NOTE: I really was an adorable child, despite the obsession with sand-sorting.
OBSERVATION: A character is more than the sum of their memories; they are the choices they make when the bubbles pop.
P.S.: Pip has started a 'Guess the Commissioner's Middle Name' pool. I have confiscated the betting slips.
The Muse leaned over his shoulder, her hair back to its electric-neon blue. "You kept your secret, Ne Job. But you know, I liked the 'Revolutionary Poet' version of you. The beret was a 7.5% improvement."
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was glowing with a private, protective violet.
"I'm staying right here in the Archive, Muse," Ne Job said. "Now, why is Assistant Yue sounding a 7.5% alarm and why has the Grand Lobby floor turned into a Giant Silver Scratch-and-Win Card?"