Chapter 97: The Uncharted Archive
The Bureau's map was a masterpiece of 100% certainty, but at 01:00 Cycles of Volume 2, the ink began to lie. In the center of the Lobby, the Giant Silver Compass didn't spin; it locked its needle toward a solid mahogany wall behind the "Human Trajectories" desk—a wall that, according to every blueprint Ao Bing had ever drawn, led to a structural void.
"Commissioner!" Assistant Yue buzzed, her new 3D-audio voice sounding like a cello in a cathedral. "THE. COMPASS. IS. TUNED. TO. 'RELICT. NARRATIVES'. IT. IS. DETECTING. A. MASSIVE. DISCONTINUITY. BEHIND. SECTION. C-7. IT. IS. THE. 'DEPARTMENT. OF. LOST. CITIES'—A. WING. THAT. WAS. 'EDITED. OUT'. DURING. THE. FIRST. DRAFT. PRE-PROLOGUE!"
The Ghost of a Draft
Ne Job approached the wall. He touched the wood, and instead of a solid surface, his hand felt a 7.5% chill—the sensation of a thought that had been started and then abandoned.
"We shouldn't go in there," Architect Ao Bing whispered, his golden measuring rod trembling. "The 'Lost Cities' are architectural tragedies. They are places where the 'Internal Logic' failed. They are ruins of 'Maybe'."
"But the Compass says the 'Great Mainspring' is losing tension because of a leak in the ruins," Ne Job said, adjusting his spectacles. "If a deleted city starts to crumble, it takes the 'Foundational Memory' of the Bureau with it."
He raised the Semicolon. With a sharp KA-CHUNK, he stapled the "Present" to the "Forgotten." The mahogany wall shivered, turned into a pale pencil sketch, and then dissolved into a dark, dusty corridor.
The Ruins of Rhetoric
The team stepped through. They weren't in the Bureau anymore; they were in a Graveyard of Geometry.
Massive marble arches hung in the air, unconnected to any floor.
Fountains flowed with "Grey Ink" that never reached the ground.
The Muse sparked a light, revealing a city that looked like a crumpled page—buildings leaning at impossible 7.5% angles, half-finished towers ending in jagged, unwritten edges.
"It's a 'Rough Sketch' city," Pip whispered, their voice echoing with a hollow, tinny sound. "Look at the people... they don't have faces, just 'Placeholder' circles."
The 7.5% Restoration
In the center of the city stood the Spire of Intent, which was currently leaking "Narrative Pressure" like a broken pipe. The leak was a hissing cloud of "Unfinished Sentences."
"We have to seal it!" The Muse cried, her hair turning a protective, neon-shield blue. "If the 'Intent' runs out, the Bureau loses its 'Reason to Exist'!"
Ne Job realized he couldn't just "fix" a deleted city. You had to Integrate it. You had to give the "Draft" a reason to be part of the "Final Version."
The Semicolon of Inclusion
Ne Job didn't try to erase the ruins. He used the Semicolon to create a Footnote of Preservation.
He fired a burst of violet light that wrapped around the leaking Spire. He didn't turn it back into a "Finished City"; he turned it into a "Historical Reference." "You aren't a mistake!" Ne Job shouted into the grey fog. "You are the Context! You are the 'Before' that makes the 'After' possible!"
The Semicolon linked the "Lost City" to the "Main Archive." The grey ink turned into a rich, deep violet. The faceless citizens gained 7.5% more detail—not enough to be "Main Characters," but enough to be "Respected Ancestors."
The Archivist's Log
The corridor behind Section C-7 didn't disappear, but it became a sturdy, glass-fronted display case. The "Department of Lost Cities" was no longer a leak; it was a Museum.
LOG: CHAPTER 97 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Lost City stabilized. Narrative pressure restored.
NOTE: You can't just delete your mistakes; you have to file them properly so they don't haunt the plumbing.
OBSERVATION: A story is built on the ruins of its previous drafts.
P.S.: Ao Bing has started a 'Preservation Society' for the placeholder people. He's teaching them how to draw eyebrows.
The Muse leaned over his shoulder, her hair glowing with a respectful, antique violet. "You gave them a 'Legacy', Ne Job. Even the deleted ones."
Ne Job looked at the Semicolon. It was glowing with a wise, historical violet.
"Every draft matters, Muse," Ne Job said. "Now, why is Assistant Yue sounding a 7.5% alarm and why has a Giant Silver Anchor fallen through the ceiling, and why is it currently dragging the entire Bureau toward the 'Sea of Subplots'?"