Chapter 70: The Weight of the Word
The Bureau was accustomed to the Author's "Heavy-Handedness," but this was 100% ridiculous. At 11:00 Cycles, the vellum sky didn't just darken; it groaned. A shadow the size of a mountain range swept over Section C-7, and with a sound like a velvet thunderclap, a Giant Silver Feather descended from the rafters of reality.
It landed squarely across the main thoroughfare, blocking the entrance to the Department of Lightheartedness. Despite its appearance—soft, shimmering, and seemingly airier than a cloud—the floorboards of the Bureau shrieked.
"Commissioner!" Pip yelled, their voice muffled by the silver down. "The floor is sagging! The 'Department of Lightheartedness' is currently 7.5% under sea level! If we don't move this thing, the whole Bureau is going to tilt into a Tragedy!"
The Density of a Quill
Ne Job approached the feather. Up close, it was terrifying. Every barb was a razor-sharp line of silver ink, and the central shaft was a solid beam of "Narrative Importance."
"It's not made of keratin," Architect Ao Bing whispered, prodding it with his golden rod. "It's made of Concentrated Gravity. This is the feather the Author uses to sign the 'Final Drafts.' It carries the weight of every 'The End' ever written."
"I can't lift it!" Barnaby the dragon grunted, his muscles bulging as he tried to heave the tip. "It's like trying to lift the concept of 'Inevitable Consequences'!"
The 7.5% Buoyancy
The Muse tried to spark the feather, hoping to burn it away, but her neon-blue bolts simply bounced off the silver surface. "It's too serious, Ne Job! It's absorbing all my 'Creative Sparks'! If it stays here, we'll all become 'Grim and Gritty' by lunchtime!"
Ne Job looked at his silver stapler. He knew he couldn't staple the feather—it was too thick. He had to Counter-Balance it.
"Junior! Get the 'Box of Lost Puns'! Pip, I need every 'Whimsical Footnote' we've ever archived! We need to inject this thing with Levity!"
The Lift of the Laugh
The team began to stuff the "Whimsical Footnotes" under the silver barbs. Each note contained a small joke, a silly rhyme, or a 7.5% chance of a happy ending.
As the "Lightness" entered the feather, it began to change. The silver turned into a soft, iridescent pearl color. The shrieking of the floorboards stopped.
"It's working!" The Muse cheered, her hair flickering with a joyful yellow. "It's losing its 'The End' energy! It's becoming... a Sub-plot!"
But the shaft was still too heavy. The Author's signature was still engraved on the base, and that signature was 100% committed to the floor.
The Semicolon Pivot
Ne Job realized that the signature was a "Period." It was a full stop that demanded the feather stay exactly where it was.
"I'm not moving the feather," Ne Job declared, pulling out the Semicolon. "I'm changing its Function!"
He climbed to the top of the feather's shaft. With a precision that made Director Vane's electric stapler look like a toy, Ne Job KA-CHUNKED the Semicolon directly over the Author's signature.
The "Full Stop" was instantly transformed into a "Continuation." The feather didn't just become light; it became Aerodynamic.
The Flight of the Word
With a sudden WHOOSH, the ten-ton feather took flight. It didn't fly away; it began to circle the Grand Lobby like a silver glider, providing a 7.5% increase in "Narrative Uplift" for everyone below.
The Department of Lightheartedness popped back up to its original floor level. The staff inside—who had been reduced to sighing and reading Russian literature—immediately started blowing bubbles and filing "Prank Trajectories" again.
LOG: CHAPTER 70 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Feather airborne. Lightheartedness restored.
NOTE: I have realized that the Author's signature is 100% negotiable if you have enough puns.
OBSERVATION: Weight is a matter of perspective. A tragedy is just a comedy that forgot how to fly.
P.S.: Pip has started using the floating feather as a high-speed transport system. I've told them to wear a helmet.
The Muse leaned over his shoulder, her hair back to its electric-neon blue. "You did it again, Ne Job. You turned a 'The End' into a 'To Be Continued'."
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was glowing with a light, airy violet.
"It's my job, Muse," Ne Job said, looking at the clock. "Now, why is Assistant Yue sounding a 7.5% alarm and why is there a Giant Silver Mirror reflecting a version of the Bureau where everyone is a Pirate?"