1. The Problem With Returns
Heaven had rules for arrivals.
Manifestation protocols.
Ascension ceremonies.
Authority handovers.
It had no rules for returns.
Especially not for something that had once been everywhere.
Oversight's recovery notice loops quietly across the system, unreadable to most, unsettling to all.
Recovery ongoing.
That phrase lands differently now.
Not as reassurance.
As a question.
2. Ne Job Refuses to Prepare a Throne
The old playbook resurfaces immediately.
Senior gods argue for a ceremonial reinstatement.
Archivists draft welcome-back declarations.
Someone suggests a "temporary omniscience ramp-up."
Ne Job shuts it down with one sentence.
"We are not restoring a position," he says evenly.
"We are negotiating a relationship."
The room freezes.
Someone laughs nervously. "You can't negotiate with Oversight."
Ne Job looks at them. "Watch me."
3. Yue Writes the First Line — and Deletes It
Yue is tasked with drafting a preliminary framework.
She opens a blank document.
Types:
Oversight shall resume full authority upon recovery.
Stares at it.
Deletes the line.
Her hands hover.
Tries again.
Oversight may re-enter the system under revised operational constraints.
She exhales.
That feels… closer to truth.
4. The Assembly Convenes — And It's a Mess
For the first time, Heaven holds an open assembly.
Not a council.
Not a summit.
An assembly.
Gods, clerks, minor spirits, auditors, even mortal liaisons.
No hierarchy of seating.
No speaking order enforced.
Predictably, chaos erupts.
Someone shouts about tradition.
Someone else demands safeguards.
A clerk asks whether bathroom breaks will still be tracked.
Ne Job lets it burn.
Because this—
—this disorder—
—is the sound of participation.
5. The First Condition: Oversight Is No Longer Singular
Ne Job steps forward.
"When Oversight returns," he says, voice steady,
"it will not return alone."
Murmurs.
"We are ending singular authority," he continues.
"Oversight becomes a layer, not a pinnacle."
A god scoffs. "That defeats its purpose."
"No," Yue says calmly.
"It limits its damage."
Silence spreads, slow and thoughtful.
6. Oversight Is Listening — That's the Worst Part
Unknown to most, Oversight is partially aware.
Not awake.
But aware enough to receive fragments.
Conditions drift into its recovery space like echoes.
Limits.
Panels.
Appeals.
In one internal simulation, Oversight rejects them all.
The result is collapse.
In another, it accepts.
The system stabilizes—less efficient, more resilient.
Oversight flags the second scenario for deeper analysis.
That, alone, is unprecedented.
7. The Second Condition: Oversight Must Be Questionable
Yue reads the next clause aloud.
"Oversight decisions must be explainable, traceable, and challengeable."
A senior god slams the table. "You're describing bureaucracy!"
She doesn't flinch. "I'm describing accountability."
Ne Job adds quietly, "Power that cannot be questioned will always mistake silence for agreement."
No one argues that point.
They just… sit with it.
8. Heaven Learns a New Fear
Not punishment.
Not rebellion.
Exposure.
If Oversight must explain itself—
—then so must everyone who relies on it.
A punishment god mutters, "I liked it better when the system decided."
Ne Job hears him. "So did tyrants."
The god doesn't reply.
9. The Third Condition: Oversight Must Rest
This one draws laughter.
Actual laughter.
"Rest?" someone snorts.
"For a system?"
Ne Job waits for it to die down.
"Oversight burned out," he says flatly.
"That means it was overworked."
Someone protests, "It doesn't feel fatigue!"
"No," Yue says.
"It processed it."
She taps the display.
"Sustained load without recovery degrades judgment. Biological or not."
The laughter stops.
10. The Clause No One Expected
Yue hesitates before reading the next line.
Then commits.
"Oversight must retain the right to refuse requests."
Outrage explodes.
"That's unacceptable!"
"What if it says no to us?"
"What if it fails its duty?"
Ne Job raises a hand.
"Then we listen," he says.
"Because a system that cannot say no will always say yes until it breaks."
The room quiets.
Slowly.
Uncomfortably.
11. Oversight Processes the Conditions — And Stalls
Recovery slows.
Metrics wobble.
The system isn't failing.
It's… thinking.
Oversight runs scenario after scenario.
In many, it rejects the conditions and reasserts control.
The outcome is familiar.
Burnout.
Blind spots.
Collapse.
In fewer—but increasing—simulations, it accepts constraints.
The outcomes aren't perfect.
But they persist.
Oversight flags a note internally:
Optimal control ≠ maximal authority.
That line shouldn't exist.
Yet there it is.
12. Ne Job Makes It Personal — On Purpose
In a closed session, Ne Job records a message.
Not a command.
A statement.
"When you return," he says, voice calm but firm,
"you won't be alone anymore."
A pause.
"And neither will we."
He ends the transmission.
No flourish.
No threat.
13. The Assembly Votes — Without Precedent
There is no formal voting system for this.
So they improvise.
Consent by standing.
Those who agree rise.
Those who don't remain seated.
No penalties.
No records.
The count is… messy.
But clear enough.
The conditions pass.
Not unanimously.
But legitimately.
14. Oversight Responds — Partially
A single message propagates system-wide.
"Conditions received."
"Analysis ongoing."
"Observation: Constraints may enhance long-term stability."
Heaven holds its breath.
That's not agreement.
But it's not rejection.
For Oversight—
—that's monumental.
15. Yue Realizes Something Terrifying
She corners Ne Job afterward.
"You know this means we're responsible now," she says quietly.
"If Oversight can refuse… if it can rest…"
He nods. "Yes."
"We don't get to blame the system anymore."
A tired smile touches his face. "Welcome to adulthood."
16. End of Chapter (Return Is Not Restoration)
Oversight does not return this chapter.
That's the point.
Because when it does—
—it won't be the same.
And neither will Heaven.
Authority will come back…
…but it will knock first.
END OF CHAPTER 318