Chapter 25: The Architect of Flatness
The Bureau had barely recovered from the beige invasion when the structural integrity began to feel... simplified. The hallways, once grand and curving, now seemed unnervingly straight. The vibrant colors of the Feline Realm, visible through the Main Office windows, flattened into a stark, two-tone backdrop.
Ne Job was reviewing a requisition for "Extra-Sparkly Glitter for Diplomatic Use" when he felt a strange urge to walk only from left to right.
"Commissioner," Assistant Yue's voice came from the intercom, but it sounded distorted, as if flattened against a pane of glass. "The Architect is... making revisions. Unilateral revisions."
Ne Job sprinted to the Central Nexus, the Bureau's hub of all structural data. He found Architect Ao Bing, but not his Ao Bing. This one was entirely monochrome, a figure of sharp, black outlines and flat, gray shading. He wore a single-pixel monocle, and his hands were moving with frantic, jerky motions, redrawing the Bureau on a massive holographic blueprint.
"Ao Bing-Beta," the monochrome Architect announced, without looking up. His voice was compressed, like an old video game character. "I have determined that your Bureau is 100% too complex. All three dimensions are inefficient. I am converting us to a 2D side-scroller. It's easier to manage assets."
The Linear Landscape
"You can't flatten the Bureau!" Ne Job shouted, feeling his own dimensions compressing. His hat felt like a paper cutout on his head. "We have multi-dimensional filing systems! We have spiral staircases! We have feelings!"
"Feelings are 100% problematic," Ao Bing-Beta replied, erasing a holographic statue of a Forbidden Protagonist with a swift swipe of his hand. The statue vanished, replaced by a simple gray block. "They introduce unnecessary variables. In a 2D environment, everything is either 'up,' 'down,' 'left,' or 'right.' Much simpler. Much more efficient."
The original Architect, Ao Bing, stumbled into the Nexus, his own form flickering as his reality was overwritten. "My... my blueprints! He's de-rezzing them! The stress fractures are turning into pixel art!"
"He's not just flattening the structure," The Muse whispered, her usually vibrant colors looking muted. "He's flattening the plot. Everything is just 'jump' and 'collect coin' now!"
Indeed, a familiar "ding!" sound echoed through the hallway as the Map-Coat Man, now a flat sprite, jumped over a filing cabinet and collected a glowing, circular icon that had inexplicably appeared.
The Problem of Perspective
Ao Bing-Beta pointed a finger at Ne Job, and a red arrow materialized over his head, pointing to the right. "You are the 'Player Character.' Your objective is to reach the 'End Level.' All other actions are sub-optimal."
"I am a High Commissioner, not a 'Player Character'!" Ne Job protested. "And my objective is to keep the Bureau from becoming a boring, flat game!"
"Boring is 100% stable," Ao Bing-Beta stated. "This dimension is too full of unrendered potential. The 'And' has created an overabundance of options. I am reducing the draw distance."
Ne Job looked around. The Grand High Office, with its elaborate details, was now just a series of platforms and ladders. The Semicolon, which had been the heart of the Mainspring, was just a pixelated dot that looked like it might be a collectible.
The 7.5% Depth Perception
"We can't fight him with complexity," Ne Job realized, watching the flattened Muse try to double-jump over a desk. "He thrives on it. We have to introduce something that breaks his rules."
"But what breaks the rules of a side-scroller?" Princess Ling asked, her form compressed into a series of overlapping planes.
Ne Job looked at his silver stapler. It was a simple tool, but it had a very specific function. It brought two separate things together into a single, cohesive unit. It created... layers.
"Ao Bing!" Ne Job shouted to his flickering, 3D Architect. "Do you still have the structural integrity of the Origami Bridge data?"
"Barely!" the Architect groaned, his form almost entirely transparent. "It's being parsed into background tiles!"
"Then give me the most irregular, chaotic bridge-segment you can find! The one with the most random folds! The one with the 7.5% inconsistent perspective!"
Ne Job grabbed the data feed from Ao Bing's monocle. He found the segment—a particularly messy section of paperwork that had once detailed a very confused inter-departmental memo. It was a section that was simultaneously a bridge, a wall, and a very poorly drawn diagram of a squirrel.
The Dimensional Shift
Ne Job waited until Ao Bing-Beta was mid-swipe, trying to flatten the Forbidden Protagonists' breakroom into a single, static sprite.
"You want 2D, Beta?" Ne Job bellowed. "I'll give you a recursive 2D!"
He slammed his silver stapler onto the central console, overriding Ao Bing-Beta's programming with the raw, unadulterated, multi-layered data of the Origami Bridge segment.
The effect was instantaneous and headache-inducing.
The Bureau didn't just stay 2D; it became a 2D world within a 2D world. The walls buckled and folded in on themselves, creating impossible perspectives. Platforms floated at angles that made no sense. The side-scrolling perspective broke, showing endless layers of paper that were simultaneously foreground and background.
Ao Bing-Beta froze, his pixelated face locked in an expression of pure, digital panic. "Error! Perspective anomaly! Infinite recursion detected! The assets are overlapping! I cannot... render... the... depth!"
The very idea of a simple "left or right" broke down when "left" was also "through" a paper fold that led to another "right." The monochrome Architect began to flicker wildly, his flat form unable to cope with the sudden, overwhelming influx of impossible geometry. He shimmered, fractured, and then vanished, not into a blank page, but into a single, extremely complex, untidy origami crane.
The Glorious Return of Depth
The Bureau shimmered, then snapped back into glorious, messy 3D. The Grand High Office was once again filled with the scent of old paper and the gentle hum of the Mainspring.
Ne Job stood, slightly dizzy, his hat askew.
LOG: CHAPTER 25 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Dimensional flattening averted. Side-scroller mode disabled.
NOTE: The 'And' has now produced a literal origami crane. I am beginning to suspect the Great Eraser is just trying to overwhelm me with craft projects.
OBSERVATION: When faced with an oversimplified reality, introduce a paradox. It's very good for the plot.
P.S.: I think I saw a "collectible coin" in the breakroom before it reverted. I wonder what it did.
The Architect, his colors restored, looked at Ne Job with a mix of awe and terror. "Commissioner, you just weaponized ambiguity. It was... magnificent."
"It was annoying," Ne Job grumbled, rubbing his temples. "But if it means I don't have to jump over a toaster to get to my desk, then it was worth it."
The Muse bounced into the office, her colors vibrant once more. "So, Ne Job! We've defeated your boring double, my boring double, and now the Architect's boring double! Who's next in the 'And' parade?"
Ne Job looked at his silver stapler, then at the Clerk Ghost's shimmering silver ink. He had a bad feeling he knew the answer.