Chapter 62: The Forbidden Adjectives
The arrival of Princess Ling was never a subtle affair, but this time, the "And" energy of the Bureau shifted from its usual hum to a high-pitched, vibrating tension. She marched through the Grand Lobby followed by a trail of floating, translucent trunks, each one bound in chains made of Redacted Syntax.
"Commissioner!" Ling shouted, her voice cutting through the clatter of Yue's typewriter. "I have just returned from the Outer Realms of Description, and I am 100% carrying a cargo that could destabilize the very fabric of our reality!"
The Luggage of Hyperbole
Ne Job stepped around his desk, his silver stapler at the ready. "Princess, we have enough problems with the 'Void' and 'Future Tense.' What could possibly be in those trunks?"
"Words, Ne Job! Words that are too powerful for the common sentence!" Ling kicked the smallest trunk. It emitted a faint, lavender glow and a smell that was 7.5% too floral. "I have 'Breathtaking,' 'Unutterable,' and—most dangerous of all—the 'Adjective That Cannot Be Rhymed'."
"Those are Forbidden Adjectives!" Architect Ao Bing gasped, hiding behind a marble pillar. "If one of those leaks into a trajectory, the character will become so descriptive they'll stop the plot just to look at a sunset! It's the death of pacing!"
The Great Vocabulary Leak
As if on cue, the lock on the largest trunk—labeled CAUTION: HYPER-SENSORY—snapped.
A cloud of shimmering, golden letters erupted into the Lobby. It didn't just look like words; it felt like them. Suddenly, the air wasn't just "air"—it was 'Opalescent,' 'Effervescent,' and 'Staggeringly Crisp.'
The dragon Barnaby breathed out a plume of fire, but because it was touched by the adjective 'Majestic,' the fire turned into a shower of harmless, slow-motion rose petals.
"I... I feel... 'Inimitable'!" Pip shouted, their goggles turning into ornate, Victorian spectacles. "I'm not just an intern anymore! I'm a 'Plucky, Determined, and Slightly Smudged Protagonist-in-Waiting'!"
The 7.5% Descriptive Crisis
Ne Job realized the danger. The Bureau was a place of Verbs and Nouns—it was a place of action and things. If everything became bogged down by 'Lush,' 'Exquisite' adjectives, no one would ever finish a report again.
"Assistant Yue! The vacuum!" Ne Job commanded.
"I. CANNOT. COMMISSIONER," Yue clattered, her typewriter keys now decorated with 'Gilded, Intricate Filigree.' "I. AM. CURRENTLY. FEELING. TOO. 'MELANCHOLY'. TO. WORK. MY. STEAM. SMELLS. LIKE. 'FORGOTTEN. SUMMER. RAIN'."
"She's been compromised by a 'Moody' adjective!" The Muse cried, her hair flashing a 'Dazzling, Electric, and Heart-Stopping' shade of violet. "Ne Job, if we don't contain them, the story will turn into a three-hundred-page description of a single cup of coffee!"
The Plain-Text Counter-Attack
Ne Job knew that the only way to fight a "Forbidden Adjective" was with a Basic Noun.
"Pip! The wrench! Give me the 'Tool'! Not the 'Glistening Silver Implement,' just the TOOL!"
He grabbed the wrench from Pip's hand. He felt the descriptive energy trying to turn the metal into 'Astral Steel,' but Ne Job gripped it with 100% bureaucratic stubbornness.
"This is a WRENCH!" Ne Job bellowed.
He slammed his silver stapler down on the open trunk. He didn't use a silver staple; he used a 'Standard, Industrial, Gray Fastener.' "This is a DESK! This is INK! This is PAPER!"
With every plain, unadorned noun he shouted, the golden adjectives lost their power. The 'Opalescent' air turned back into 'Drafty' air. The 'Majestic' rose petals turned back into 'Singed' dragon-breath.
The Redacted Trunk
The Muse and Princess Ling worked together to shove the remaining words back into the trunks. Ne Job used his stapler to seal the locks with "Plain-Text Security Strips."
The Bureau returned to its 7.5% grumpy, 100% functional self.
LOG: CHAPTER 62 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Description-overload contained. Pacing restored.
NOTE: I've banned the word 'Stunning' from all internal memos.
OBSERVATION: A good story needs a few adjectives, but if you use too many, you forget where you were going.
P.S.: Pip is still wearing the Victorian spectacles. They say it makes the 'Ordinary' look 'Extraordinary.'
Princess Ling straightened her silks and looked at the row of locked trunks. "You're right, Ne Job. They were too much. But you have to admit... for a second there, your office was 'Spectacular'."
Ne Job looked at his desk. It was just a desk. And he liked it that way.
"I prefer 'Functional,' Princess," Ne Job said. "Now, why is Assistant Yue suddenly typing in Ancient Hieroglyphics, and why is there a 7.5% chance that we've accidentally moved the Bureau into a Historical Epic?"