Chapter 72: The Hatchling Hazard
The aftermath of the pirate raid had left the Bureau's logic brittle, and the Great Mainspring—ever the sensitive instrument—decided to cope by over-producing. At 14:00 Cycles, the silver eggs that had appeared in the previous chapter began to shiver.
With a sound like breaking porcelain, a dozen Miniature Void Drakes emerged. They were barely six inches long, with scales the color of spilled ink and eyes that twinkled like distant, hungry pulsars.
"Commissioner!" Assistant Yue buzzed, her keys clacking in a frantic alarm. "THE. HATCHLINGS. ARE. NARRATIVE. PARASITES. THEY. DO. NOT. BREATHE. OXYGEN. THEY. CONSUME. 'CONTEXT'. AND. THEY. ARE. CURRENTLY. STARVING."
The De-Writing of the Lobby
The drakes didn't attack the staff. They attacked the Sentences.
One hatchling latched onto a filing cabinet and began to chew. As its tiny jaws worked, the cabinet didn't break—it simply became less "Cabinet-like." The wood grain vanished; the brass handles turned into a vague gray smudge. It was being "De-Written," reduced from a specific, physical object to a general, unformed idea.
"My trajectories!" Ne Job shouted, watching a drake swallow a "Life Path" for a baker in Novus Aethel.
Instantly, the baker's record in the Ledger turned into: [Subject does... stuff. Subject exists in a place. Ends.]
"It's eating the 'How' and the 'Why'!" Pip yelled, frantically chasing a drake with a butterfly net made of "Suspension of Disbelief." "If they keep eating, the whole Bureau will turn into a First Draft!"
The 7.5% Appetite
Architect Ao Bing was cornered by three hatchlings that were currently eating the "Gravity" out of his blueprints. He began to float toward the ceiling, looking 100% terrified and 7.5% graceful.
"They're too fast!" The Muse cried. Her neon hair was flickering; a drake had nipped at her "Spark," and she was suddenly feeling a 100% lack of motivation. "I don't... I don't see the point in being colorful anymore. Maybe we should just be... beige."
Ne Job's silver-plumed hat bristled. "Muse! Don't listen to them! That's just the 'Boredom' they emit before they strike!"
The Flavor of the Fact
Ne Job realized that the drakes wanted "High-Calorie Prose"—they wanted drama, adjectives, and twists.
"Junior! Get the 'Department of Mundane Observations'! We need to feed them the most boring facts in existence!"
Junior scrambled to the sub-basement and returned with a crate of "Standardized Measurement Logs" and "Tax Code Addendums for the Year 402."
"Here, lizard-babies!" Ne Job called, throwing a handful of "Soil pH Level Reports" into the air.
The drakes lunged for the flying text, but as they swallowed the dry, flavorless data, they began to cough. A drake that ate a "Report on Concrete Drying Times" turned a dull, matte gray and fell to the floor, immobilized by the sheer weight of the boredom.
The Semicolon Corral
"It's working!" Pip cheered. "The dry facts are like narrative broccoli! They hate it!"
"But there's too many of them!" Ao Bing shouted from the ceiling.
Ne Job pulled out the Semicolon. He didn't use it as a weapon; he used it as a Lure. He held the violet-glowing artifact aloft, and the drakes—drawn to its infinite potential—swarmed toward him.
"You want a bridge?" Ne Job whispered. "I'll give you a bridge to nowhere!"
He KA-CHUNKED the Semicolon into an empty "Void-Bottle" (a gift from the Pirate-Ne-Beard). The drakes dived into the bottle, chasing the violet light, and Ne Job slammed the cork home.
The Re-Written Reality
The drakes were trapped. Inside the bottle, they began to eat each other's "Context" until they merged into a single, very confused, and very sleepy Purple Salamander.
Ne Job wiped his brow. The Lobby slowly returned to its detailed self. The baker in Novus Aethel got his "How" and "Why" back.
LOG: CHAPTER 72 SUMMARY.
STATUS: De-writing halted. Drakes contained.
NOTE: I have officially added 'Boredom' to our list of defensive weapons.
OBSERVATION: Sometimes, being boring is the only thing that saves you from being consumed by the plot.
P.S.: Junior wants to keep the Purple Salamander as a pet. I told him he can keep it as long as it doesn't eat the 'If' out of his 'If-Then' statements.
The Muse leaned over his shoulder, her hair back to its brilliant neon-blue. "That was clever, Ne Job. Using the Tax Code as dragon-poison. I feel much more... vivid now."
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was glowing with a satisfied, slightly mischievous violet.
"I'm just glad we caught them before they ate Chapter 1," Ne Job said. "Now, why is Assistant Yue sounding a 7.5% alarm and why is there a Giant Silver Gong appearing in the center of the Lobby with the words 'THE AUDIT HAS BEGUN' etched into the metal?"