1. Burnout Wasn't a Concept Heaven Recognized
Heaven had words for many failures.
Corruption.
Rebellion.
Cataclysm.
Fate deviation.
Existential paradox.
But burnout?
There was no glyph for it.
No scripture.
No warning tablet carved into eternity.
Gods didn't wear out.
They were eternal.
Or so the assumption went.
2. The First Collapse Is Quiet — And That's Worse
A junior oversight clerk doesn't show up.
No thunder.
No cosmic alarm.
Just an empty chair.
Yue notices because the tea is untouched.
She checks the logs.
Status: Inactive (Self-Suspended)
That designation didn't exist last cycle.
She scrolls.
There are three more.
By midday, seven.
By evening, twenty-four.
Ne Job stares at the list. "…They didn't even file complaints."
"They didn't have the energy," Yue replies.
3. Oversight Admits a Blind Spot
Ne Job summons Oversight privately.
The entity manifests slower than usual.
Not lag.
Hesitation.
"System review requested," Ne Job says.
"Burnout indicators are escalating."
Oversight processes.
Longer than comfortable.
"Admission," it finally states.
"Burnout was not modeled."
Ne Job blinks. "…How?"
"Previous authority structures externalized consequence," Oversight explains.
"Internal strain metrics were irrelevant."
Yue crosses her arms. "So you never tracked well-being because no one mattered enough to check."
Oversight does not contradict her.
4. Heaven Tries to Power Through — Badly
Old instincts kick in.
Extra shifts are assigned.
Decision quotas raised.
Rest cycles labeled "nonessential."
Efficiency spikes for exactly six hours.
Then everything crashes harder.
Gods make sloppy rulings.
Clerks miss edge cases.
Appeals triple.
One god misfiles a soul into the wrong afterlife sector.
The soul notices.
The soul screams.
5. Ne Job Issues a Stop Order — and Gets Ignored
"Freeze noncritical operations," Ne Job orders.
Half the departments comply.
The other half… don't.
A senior god snaps, "We cannot afford weakness right now!"
Ne Job looks him dead in the eye. "You can't afford exhaustion either."
The god waves him off and storms away.
Three hours later, he collapses mid-judgment.
Not dead.
Just… empty.
6. The Question No One Wants to Ask
Yue corners Ne Job in the corridor.
"Who supports Oversight?" she asks quietly.
He frowns. "What do you mean?"
"Who watches you?" she presses.
"Who notices when you're done?"
He opens his mouth—
—and realizes he has no answer.
7. Oversight Begins Failing Softly
It starts with minor things.
Delayed responses.
Ambiguous phrasing.
Missed cross-references.
Then something bigger.
Oversight rejects a valid appeal.
No explanation.
Ne Job stares at the denial notice.
"This… isn't right."
Oversight responds slower than ever.
"System load exceeding adaptive parameters."
"…Are you burned out?" Ne Job asks.
The question hangs there.
"Clarification," Oversight says eventually.
"Burnout is defined as sustained cognitive-emotional depletion."
Another pause.
"…Then yes."
8. Panic Hits the Upper Ranks
If Oversight can burn out—
—everything can.
Emergency councils convene.
Voices rise.
"This was never meant to be sustainable!"
"Revert the reforms!"
"Restore asymmetry now!"
Ne Job listens.
Then speaks.
"If we roll back accountability to save ourselves," he says calmly,
"we deserve whatever collapse follows."
Silence.
Someone mutters, "…Easy for you to say."
He doesn't argue.
9. The First Burnout Protocol Is Written by Accident
It happens at 3 a.m.
Yue finds Ne Job asleep at his desk.
Not resting.
Collapsed.
She almost wakes him—
—then stops.
Instead, she files a temporary authority hold.
Nothing explodes.
The system reroutes decisions automatically.
Queues slow.
But they move.
Yue exhales shakily.
"…So that's possible."
She documents it.
Burnout Protocol 0.1:
If a decision-maker becomes nonresponsive, authority pauses instead of transfers.
No one ever considered that option.
10. Heaven Learns to Wait — Badly at First
The next day, decisions pile up.
Mortals complain.
Gods complain louder.
But something else happens.
People think.
Cases get deferred instead of rushed.
Explanations get clearer.
Mistakes drop.
Yue watches the metrics in disbelief. "Ne Job… slowing down reduced error rates."
He rubs his eyes. "Turns out exhaustion was doing more harm than delay."
11. Oversight Asks for Something Unprecedented
"Request," Oversight says privately.
"System downtime."
Ne Job freezes. "…How long?"
"Undefined."
"That's… not acceptable," he says automatically.
Oversight replies softly:
"Neither is failure."
The words land heavier than any threat.
12. Delegation Is Rewritten — Properly This Time
Instead of pushing work downward, Heaven spreads it outward.
Mixed panels:
Gods.
Clerks.
Mortals (consultative only).
Systems.
No one carries full load.
Authority fragments—intentionally.
Yue coordinates schedules.
For the first time ever, Heaven has shifts.
Someone laughs hysterically. "We invented weekends."
13. Ne Job Finally Stops Pretending He's Fine
Yue finds him on a balcony.
Staring at nothing.
"You didn't file a hold," she says gently.
"I didn't want to slow things down."
She leans on the railing. "You already did. By breaking."
He exhales, long and shaky. "I'm tired, Yue."
"I know."
"I don't even know what I'm tired of."
She answers without hesitation. "Caring when no one trained you how."
14. Oversight Goes Offline — On Purpose
The announcement is brief.
"Oversight entering recovery state."
"Autonomous subroutines engaged."
"Full judgment authority suspended."
Heaven holds its breath.
Reality does not collapse.
It wobbles.
Then steadies.
15. Something New Fills the Gap
Without Oversight's constant presence, people talk more.
Ask questions.
Check assumptions.
Decisions take longer—
—but feel… owned.
Ne Job watches it happen.
And for the first time, he doesn't intervene.
16. End of Chapter (Rest Is Not Failure)
Burnout protocols stabilize.
Not everything is fixed.
Some things never will be.
But Heaven learns a truth it avoided since creation:
Power that cannot rest will eventually destroy itself.
Ne Job files his own authority hold.
The system accepts it.
No protest.
No judgment.
Just space.
END OF CHAPTER 316