Akademia Dimensio was… breathing. Not perfectly, not calmly, but breathing. The oppressive, sparkly silence was replaced by a low hum of genuine confusion, punctuated by bursts of laughter (real, not canned), arguments over sandwich fillings, and the occasional, uncontrolled magical hiccup – like the fountain in the quad intermittently spouting pickled onions instead of water. Dave, navigating the chaos in his blessedly adequate grey trousers, felt a strange mix of exhaustion and quiet satisfaction. Helping Starweaver jury-rig containment fields around residual Procrustes-tech leaks wasn't glamorous, but it felt… useful. Like plugging holes in a sinking ship, one bizarre leak at a time.
<< RESIDUAL ORDER SIGNATURE DETECTED NEAR FORMER ADMINISTRATION WING. SIGNATURE: STERILE, AGGRESSIVELY NEUTRAL. PROBABILITY OF PROCUSTES REMNANT ACTIVITY: 87%. USER'S 'DAVE CONSTANT' FIELD MAY ACT AS MAGNET. PROCEED? >>
"Right," Dave sighed, adjusting his collar where Unit Alpha's claws were digging in. "Just when I thought we could maybe find those chips." He followed the System's ping towards a nondescript door marked ARCHIVES (NON-GLITTER VARIANT).
Inside, the air was colder. Dust motes hung suspended unnaturally. Two figures stood before a flickering viewscreen displaying cascading lines of sterile code. They weren't Pruners or Akademia staff. They wore impeccably tailored grey suits, crisp to the point of intimidation, faces blandly forgettable except for eyes that held the chilling emptiness of a spreadsheet. Floating beside them were sleek chrome tablets emitting a low, pulsing hum. Their lapel pins depicted stylized, closed scissors.
<< IDENTIFIED: NARRATIVE COMPLIANCE OFFICERS (NCOs). PROCUSTES'S AUDITORS. FUNCTION: CONTAINMENT, DAMAGE ASSESSMENT, AND 'ANOMALY NEUTRALIZATION'. THREAT LEVEL: HIGH (BUREAUCRATIC). METHOD: PAPERWORK, REALITY CITATIONS, AND EVENTUAL PRUNING. >>
Officer 1 spoke, voice toneless, devoid of inflection, like text-to-speech set to 'apathetic menace'. "Akademia Dimensio Reality Node: Designation 'Stormblossom'. Status: Contaminated. Narrative Compliance Rating downgraded from AAA (Ordered Potential) to D (Unsanctioned Chaos). Cause of Contamination: Designated Anomaly 'Dave Miller'. Probability of Spillover: 87.3%. Unacceptable."
Officer 2 tapped his tablet. "Anomaly 'Miller' exhibits Pattern Designation: 'Glitch-Constant'. Propagates narrative instability via localized reality field designated 'Idiocy'. Field strength: Increasing post-Anchor collapse. Risk of cross-dimensional narrative infection: Critical." He looked up, his empty eyes locking onto Dave. "Anomaly detected. Cease propagation. Submit for assessment and containment."
Dave felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room temperature. These weren't soldiers; they were accountants of existence. Their threat wasn't fiery blasts, but the cold certainty of being filed away. "Propagation? I'm just standing here! And it's 'Dave', not 'Anomaly Miller'. Bit rude."
<< DEFLECTION ATTEMPT: INEFFECTIVE. NCOs OPERATE ON PROTOCOL, NOT SOCIAL NORMS. UTILIZE PRIMARY WEAPON: ABSURDITY. >>
Officer 1 raised his tablet. A beam of coherent grey light lanced out, not towards Dave, but towards a nearby shelf labelled Historical Whimsy (Suppressed). The beam hit a dusty tome titled "The Jolly Jape of Jebediah Jigglebottom". The book didn't vanish; it flattened. Its pages compressed into a single, featureless grey sheet, its vibrant cover art reduced to a sterile barcode. Its very story was erased.
<< REALITY CITATION ISSUED: UNAUTHORIZED NARRATIVE DEVICE (SLAPSTICK). SANCTION: ERASURE. WARNING: USER'S 'IDIOCY FIELD' IS FLAGGED FOR IMMEDIATE CONTAINMENT. >>
"Oi! That looked like a decent read!" Dave protested, genuine outrage flaring. "What gives you the right?"
Officer 2 consulted his tablet. "Authorization: Procrustes Protocol Delta, Subsection 7B: Preservation of Grand Design Integrity. Your existence violates Subsection 7B, Clause 12: 'Prohibition of Persistent, Unquantifiable Chaotic Variables'. Your 'field' is a contagion. Containment is mandatory." He raised his own tablet.
Dave didn't think. He felt. He felt the stifling greyness, the casual erasure of Jebediah Jigglebottom, the sheer, bureaucratic wrongness of it. He didn't trip. He deliberately stepped onto a loose floor tile that had been flickering polka-dot patterns since he entered. It wobbled violently. Dave windmilled his arms with exaggerated clumsiness, knocking over a precarious stack of Regulation Romance Templates (Pre-Approved).
Templates fluttered through the air like confetti made of bad poetry. One landed on Officer 1's impeccably coiffed head, depicting a clinch between two figures labelled Brooding Archetype A and Quirky Heroine B. Another stuck to Officer 2's tablet screen, obscuring his sterile code with florid prose about heaving bosoms and smouldering glances.
<< DIRECT APPLICATION OF 'IDIOCY FIELD'! TARGETING NCO WEAKNESS: AESTHETIC DISORDER AND NARRATIVE IMPURITY! EFFECTIVENESS: HIGH! >>
The NCOs froze. Officer 1 stared straight ahead, the romantic template absurdly perched on his head, his bland face twitching minutely. Officer 2 frantically tried to peel the template off his tablet, his toneless voice gaining a static-laced edge. "Contamination! Level 4 Narrative Impurity detected! Protocol 7B-epsilon: Initiate Sanitization Scrub!" He started wiping the tablet with a sterile cloth, ignoring Dave completely.
"See?" Dave said, picking himself up, brushing dust off his grey trousers. "Messy, innit? Life is. You can't file it all away under 'Subsection 7B'." He gestured towards the door. "Maybe tell Procrustes his 'Grand Design' got a bit too grand? Bit too… boring? Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a chip deficiency needing immediate attention. Alpha? Distraction!"
Unit Alpha, sensing its cue, launched itself from Dave's shoulder with an ear-splitting, deliberately off-key autotuned screech: <<< SKREEEEE-OOOOOH-FLATNOTE! BORING-MEN! GO-AWAY! >>> It flew straight at Officer 1's face, not to attack, but to flutter erratically around his head, shedding glitter and discordant sound.
<< UNIT ALPHA: MAXIMUM NARRATIVE DISRUPTION ENGAGED! NCO SANITIZATION PRIORITIES OVERLOADED! USER ESCAPE WINDOW: OPEN! >>
Dave didn't hesitate. He ducked past the flustered NCOs, back into the marginally less oppressive chaos of the Akademia corridor. But the chill lingered. Procrustes wasn't just rebuilding; he was sending auditors. He knew Dave was more than a glitch; he was a vector. And vectors get contained.
<< WARNING: MULTIVERSAL STRESS FRACTURES DETECTED BEYOND AKADEMIA. USER'S 'NARRATIVE IMMUNITY' EMITTING UNIQUE SIGNATURE. ATTENTION BEYOND PROCUSTES ANTICIPATED. >>
The System projected flickering images into Dave's peripheral vision:
1. A Noir Cityscape: Rain-slicked streets flickering into sudden, garish cartoon colors. A hard-boiled detective monologuing grimly, then abruptly breaking into a tap dance. Narrative Incompatibility: Grit vs. Whimsy.
2. A High Fantasy Battlefield: Knights in gleaming armor clashing with orcs… who periodically stopped to argue about union breaks and dental plans. Narrative Incompatibility: Epic Struggle vs. Mundane Bureaucracy.
3. A Serene Alien Garden: Floating crystals humming with peace… occasionally emitting loud, raucous laughter tracks. Narrative Incompatibility: Tranquility vs. Forced Comedy.
<< THESE ARE NOT RESIDUAL GLITCHES. THEY ARE EMERGENT PROPERTIES OF REALITIES STRUGGLING TO ADAPT POST-PROCUSTES. YOUR 'DAVE CONSTANT' SIGNATURE IS ACTING AS A CATALYST, MAKING THESE FRACTURES VISIBLE… AND ATTRACTING NOTICE. >>
One final image flickered: A vast, impossibly dark void. Not the sterile grey of Procrustes, but a consuming, hungry blackness. Within it, faint, jagged lines pulsed – like cracks in obsidian. And something watched from the cracks. Something ancient, cold, and profoundly annoyed by the sudden, chaotic noise Dave represented. It wasn't Order. It was the Void Before Narrative. And it didn't want free will making a mess.
Dave leaned against a wall, catching his breath. Unit Alpha landed back on his shoulder, preening proudly. Starweaver hurried over, looking harried. "Dave! The Potions lab leak is spouting… interpretive dance instructions? And Lumina fixed the sock machine! It dispenses slightly damp novelty ties now. Progress?" He paused, seeing Dave's expression. "What's wrong?"
Dave looked from Starweaver's earnest confusion to the spot where the NCOs had been, then towards the corridor wall where a tiny, hairline crack had appeared in the plaster. It wasn't glowing, but it felt… wrong. Like a silence waiting to scream.
"Progress, yeah," Dave said, pushing off the wall. His voice was steady, but lacked its usual flippancy. "Found Procrustes's tax collectors. They don't like mess. And it seems… we've got bigger neighbors moving in next door. The kind that prefer quiet. Eternal quiet."
He met Starweaver's gaze. The spark of defiance was still there, but tempered now. Hardened. He understood the weight. His freedom was a beacon… and beacons attract more than just moths. They attract things that want to snuff them out.
<< PRIMARY THREAT UPDATE: PROCUSTES (CONTAINMENT EFFORTS ACTIVE). SECONDARY THREAT: EMERGENT VOID ENTITIES (NARRATIVE NULLIFIERS). USER STATUS: AWARE. RESOLVE: SOLIDIFYING. >>
"Right," Dave straightened his grey trousers. The mundane action felt grounding. "First, chips. Then, Sparkles, we need to talk about reinforcing more than just potion leaks. Seems we might need… bigger plugs." He glanced at the hairline crack again. "And maybe some very loud noise-makers."
He walked towards the cafeteria, not running, but with a purposeful stride. The chaotic hum of Akademia felt different now. Not just freedom, but fragile defiance. Dave Miller, the Unchosen, the Glitch, the walking reality hiccup, was no longer just failing upwards. He was standing his ground. And the multiverse, in all its terrifying, messy glory, was starting to take sides. The System's message glowed with grim approval:
<< OBJECTIVE UPDATED: PREPARE THE UNLIKELY BULWARK. RESOURCES REQUIRED: CRISPS, DETERMINATION, ONE AUTOTUNED PIGEON, AND A FORMER VILLAIN WITH ACCESS TO PLUMBING SUPPLIES. COMMENCE OPERATION: NOISY CHAOS. >>