The Celestial Clockwork: The Trajectory Paradox
Chapter: The Absent Record
The silence of Section C-7 was not the absence of sound, but the perfect equilibrium of ten thousand thousand quiet motions. Ne Job, the Head Archivist for the Department of Human Trajectories, experienced the silence as a physical pressure, a subtle hum against the membranes of his inner ear. It was the sound of everything being precisely where it ought to be, a cosmic order that Ne Job maintained with the surgical precision of a celestial clockmaker. His desk, a slab of polished obsidian that absorbed all light and distraction, bore only two items: a single quill and a newly generated, yet distressingly blank, trajectory scroll.
He traced the outline of the blankness with a fingertip. The Department dealt in records of human lives—the past, the predicted future, and the infinite potential deviations. Yet, the scroll before him—Trajectory 881-A/Gamma, scheduled for filing—was an anomaly that felt like a cosmic scream. It was a complete absence of data for a newly emerging reality. Every trajectory, no matter how brief or inconsequential, generated a faint vibrational signature; this one was dead air. It was a hole in the fabric of existence, a line erased from the universal manuscript.
A vibrant splash of color broke the obsidian monotony. The Muse, from the Department of Creative Sparks, sauntered in, her gown shimmering with a thousand unwritten poems and her expression a complex mixture of inspired distress. She carried the faint, chaotic scent of freshly-inked ideas and ozone—the typical byproduct of a creative breakthrough, or a complete meltdown.
"Head Archivist Job," The Muse announced, her voice pitched at a frequency that always made Ne Job's finely tuned sensibilities ache. "Novus Aethel is too perfect again. The Architect's latest structural update has made the air so clean, the populace is starting to mistake routine existence for enlightenment. They are losing the capacity for complex yearning!"
Ne Job did not look up. He had successfully delivered the "calibrated disaster" in the previous arc, and The Architect's city had a remarkable ability to bounce back to flawless, soulless perfection. "The issue of existential stagnation is being managed, Muse. The universe can endure a few decades of flawless municipal planning. My current concern is more… fundamental." He pushed the blank scroll towards her. "This life, this potential future, has vanished before it even began. It's not a deviation; it's a nullification. And the energy required to delete a fully charted trajectory is catastrophic."
The Muse stopped fidgeting. Her eyes, which were usually dancing with the fever of creation, narrowed with genuine alarm. "A stolen life? Who would risk the ultimate sanction of the BCA to erase a trajectory?"