Chapter 30: The Intern of Unknown Origin
The Bureau was finally quiet. The Genre-Hoppers had retreated to their respective sequels, the "And" had settled into a comfortable hum, and Ne Job was actually considering organizing his drawer of "Miscellaneous Elastic Bands."
Then, the Semicolon on its velvet cushion began to vibrate. It didn't pulse with danger like it had before; instead, it emitted a rhythmic, eager pitter-patter that sounded remarkably like someone tapping their heels against a floor.
"Commissioner," Assistant Yue said, appearing with a data-tablet that was 7.5% more colorful than usual. "The 'Infinite Addendum' has just processed a new application. It didn't come through the portal, and it wasn't written by the Author. It just... appeared in the inbox."
Ne Job looked at the screen. It was a single sheet of paper with a coffee stain in the shape of a heart.
NAME: Pip
POSITION: Intern / Chaos-Apprentice / Professional Lid-Opener
QUALIFICATIONS: I once counted to a billion but got distracted at forty-two. I can see the colors of Mondays. I own a very small wrench.
"Absolutely not," Ne Job said, standing up. "We are a 'Perpetual First Draft.' We don't have the structural integrity for an intern. Especially one who can 'see the colors of Mondays.'"
The Arrival
Before Ne Job could file the application under "Deep-Storage Denials," the elevator doors at the end of the hall dinged.
Out stepped a teenager wearing an oversized Bureau uniform that looked like it had been through a kaleidoscope. They had goggles pushed up onto a mess of bright yellow hair, and a utility belt filled with things that shouldn't be together: a wooden spoon, a roll of duct tape made of rainbows, and the "very small wrench."
"Hi!" Pip chirped, bouncing toward Ne Job's desk. "I'm the New Hired. The Semicolon said you were getting a bit too used to the silence, so I'm here to provide the 'Next'!"
The Muse drifted down from the ceiling, her eyes wide. "Ooh! They have 7.5% more kinetic energy than a caffeinated squirrel! Ne Job, can we keep them? Please? I need someone to help me test the 'Exploding Origami' project."
The Trial by Filing
"This is a professional organization, Pip," Ne Job said, trying to regain his authoritative gloom. "We don't just 'appear.' We require three years of experience in existential dread and a mastery of the semi-colon."
"I love semi-colons!" Pip said, leaning over the velvet cushion. "They're like a breath in the middle of a long run! Anyway, I've already started. I found those folders you had labeled 'Unsolvable Paradoxes' in the basement. I fixed them."
Ne Job's heart nearly stopped. "You... you fixed the Paradoxes? Those are the load-bearing contradictions of the Bureau!"
"I didn't delete them," Pip explained, pulling a sandwich out of their utility belt. "I just turned them into 'Fun Facts.' Now, whenever someone walks past them, they get a sudden urge to hum a song they've never heard. It's 100% more efficient than a reality-rip."
Architect Ao Bing poked his head out of his office. "Did someone say 'Fun Facts'? My structural beams are suddenly vibrating in B-flat. It's... surprisingly pleasant."
The Secret of the Intern
Ne Job sat back in his chair. He looked at Pip, who was currently trying to use the "very small wrench" to adjust the height of the gravity.
"Where did you really come from, Pip?" Ne Job asked, his voice softening. "The Author didn't write you. The 'And' didn't mirror you."
Pip stopped tinkering and looked at Ne Job. For a second, their bright yellow hair seemed to shimmer with the same silver light as the Clerk Ghost's ink.
"The story doesn't just belong to the Author anymore, Commissioner," Pip said, their voice suddenly sounding much older than their goggles suggested. "When you turned the Period into a Semicolon, you invited the Reader in. I'm the part of the story that wonders 'What happens next?'"
Ne Job realized then that Pip wasn't a character. They were a possibility. They were the personification of the audience's curiosity, born from the ink of the Infinite Addendum.
The First Assignment
"Fine," Ne Job sighed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You can stay. But under one condition: you do not, under any circumstances, use that rainbow duct tape on the Great Mainspring."
"Deal!" Pip shouted, doing a backflip that defied at least 7.5% of local physics.
Ne Job pulled out his ledger. He realized he needed a new section.
LOG: CHAPTER 30 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Intern hired. Gravity set to 'Slightly Bouncy.'
NOTE: Pip is currently trying to organize the paper dragons by 'Personality Type.'
OBSERVATION: The Bureau isn't just a record of the past or a struggle with the present anymore.
NEW HEADING: The Department of Future Tense.
P.S.: Monday is apparently a very aggressive shade of chartreuse.
The Muse handed Pip a bucket of neon-blue confetti. "Welcome to the team, kid. Your first job is to help me find out why the coffee machine is suddenly reciting Shakespeare."
"On it!" Pip yelled, sprinting down the hall.
Ne Job watched them go, then looked at his silver stapler. The story was long, the Bureau was messy, and the Author was probably still confused.
"And," Ne Job whispered to the empty office, "it was only the beginning."