Chapter 122: The Retirement of the Second Hand
The invitation didn't just sit on Ne Job's desk; it vibrated at a frequency that made the nearby "Sentient Paperclips" perform a synchronized ballet of sheer terror. It was etched onto a slice of "Frozen Moment"—a translucent material that stayed permanently at 4:02 PM on a rainy Tuesday, the universal peak of "Wistful Contemplation."
THE RETIREMENT OF ELDER TEMPUS
Location: The Hall of the Infinite Second (Please arrive five minutes before you were born).
Dress Code: Chronological Formal (Wear your past, present, and a hint of your future).
Note: The Bureau of Cosmic Alignment is requested to provide the 'Evening's Divertissement'. Failure to entertain will result in a 100% 'Temporal Stagnation'.
"Entertainment?" Ne Job whispered, his grip tightening on his fountain pen. "We are Bureaucrats, Muse. We deal in 'Trajectories.' We deal in 'Structural Integrity.' We are not... jesters."
"Oh, lighten up, Ne Job!" The Muse was already vibrating with a 7.5% increase in "Manic Inspiration." Her hair had shifted from its post-rain lavender to a chaotic, flickering gold. "This is the God of Time! The Big T! The Guy who invented the 'Awkward Silence' and the 'Summer Afternoon'! If we don't give him a good show, he might just pack up his gears and take the concept of 'Next Thursday' with him!"
The Party Protocol
Assistant Yue stepped forward, her metallic eyes scanning the invitation with a 100% clinical precision.
"COMMISSIONER. I. HAVE. CALCULATED. THE. RISKS. ELDER. TEMPUS. HAS. WITNESSED. EVERY. EVENT. IN. THE. HISTORY. OF. THE. MULTIVERSE. HIS. BOREDOM. THRESHOLD. IS. CURRENTLY. AT. NINETY-NINE. POINT. NINE. PERCENT. TO. ENTERTAIN. HIM, WE. CANNOT. SHOW. HIM. WHAT. HAS. HAPPENED. WE. MUST. SHOW. HIM. WHAT. ALMOST. HAPPENED."
"The 'Drafts'?" Ao Bing asked, leaning on his golden measuring rod. He looked pensive. "You want us to show the God of Time the 'Unbuilt Cities'? The 'Scrapped Blueprints' of existence?"
"Exactly," Ne Job realized, his Archivist mind finally clicking into gear. "The Department of Human Trajectories is full of 'Deleted Scenes.' The version of Sector 4 where humans evolved wings instead of taxes. The timeline where the Great Library of Alexandria was actually a giant, communal bakery. The 'Almosts'."
The Wardrobe of Eras
Following the dress code was the first challenge. Princess Ling took the lead, her regal instincts for "Chronological Formal" proving invaluable.
"To wear one's past is to wear one's scars," she said, her voice like silk over steel. She adjusted her silver dagger. Her own gown began to shift, shimmering with the memories of her lost Empire—ghostly images of "Sunlight on Jade" and "The First Snow of the Dynasty."
Ne Job wore a suit made of "Carbon-Dated Parchment," with a tie that displayed a live-feed of his own birth in a loop.
The Muse was draped in "Raw Potential," a fabric that changed color every time someone in the universe had a "Good Idea."
Ao Bing donned a cape of "Obsidian Scaffolding," representing the foundations of every city he had ever imagined but never built.
Assistant Yue simply added a "7.5% Decorative Ribbon" made of "Binary Code from the Future" to her chassis.
"We look... statistically significant," Yue noted.
The Hall of the Infinite Second
The transition from the Bureau to the Hall of the Infinite Second was not a walk, but a "Semicolon." One moment they were in the warm, mahogany-scented Lobby, and the next, they were standing on a floor made of "Polished Eons."
The Hall was a vast, circular chamber where the walls were not stone, but giant, vertical hourglasses. Instead of sand, they were filled with "The Dust of Dead Stars." In the center, sitting on a throne of "Compressed Centuries," was Elder Tempus.
He looked less like a god and more like a very tired clockmaker. His beard was a waterfall of "White Noise," and his eyes were two ticking watch-faces that moved in opposite directions.
"The Bureau of Cosmic Alignment," Tempus droned. His voice sounded like a billion clocks ticking at once. "You are late. Or perhaps you are early. I've lost track. It's all become so... linear lately."
He sighed, and the sound caused a nearby hourglass to speed up, aging a nearby vase of flowers into dust in three seconds.
"I am retiring," Tempus continued. "I am going to a place where 'When' doesn't exist. But before I go, I want to see the 'Friction' you've been keeping in your files. Show me the 'And' that I missed."
The Performance: The Symphony of Near-Misses
Ne Job stepped forward, holding the Semicolon aloft. It glowed with a foundational violet that pushed back the "Gray Apathy" of the Hall.
"Elder Tempus," Ne Job began, his voice steady despite a 7.5% tremor of nerves. "You have seen the 'Final Draft' of the Universe. But tonight, the Bureau presents the 'Marginalia'. We present the 'Symphony of the Unstarted'."
He tapped the Semicolon against the floor.
Suddenly, the Hall was filled with holographic projections from the C-7 Archives. But these weren't standard trajectories.
The Architect's Solo: Ao Bing raised his golden rod, and in the air, he constructed the "City of Clouds"—a metropolis where buildings were held together by "Laughter" instead of "Gravity." It was a city that had been rejected because it was "Too Joyful for the Current Epoch."
The Muse's Spark: The Muse danced through the invisible streets of the cloud-city, throwing sparks that turned into "Sentient Colors." She showed a world where "Music" was the primary source of "Electricity."
The Princess's Gravity: Princess Ling moved with a lethal grace, her dagger cutting through the "Static of Reality" to reveal the "Quiet Moments"—the kings who chose to be gardeners, the wars that were settled with a "Game of Chess."
Assistant Yue provided the "Rhythmic Data," her voice chanting the mathematical beauty of these failures:
"WHERE E_s IS 'ENTERTAINMENT VALUE', W_i IS 'WHIMSY', AND C_f IS 'CHRONOLOGICAL FRICTION'."
The Friction of the Heart
Elder Tempus watched. For the first time in ten trillion years, the ticking watch-faces of his eyes slowed down. They synchronized.
"It's... messy," Tempus whispered. "It's 7.5% inefficient. It's 100% illogical."
"It's life, Elder," Ne Job said, stepping closer. "The Bureau doesn't just 'Align' things. We protect the 'Gaps' between the ticks. We protect the 'Semicolon' where the universe catches its breath."
Tempus reached out a hand made of "Twilight" and touched the holographic projection of a "Useless Statue" from Ao Bing's city. The statue hummed.
"I spent my life making sure the seconds followed the minutes," Tempus said softly. "I never noticed that the seconds were trying to run away and become 'Eternities'."
He stood up. The Hall of the Infinite Second began to glow with a soft, amber light—the color of a "Permanent Golden Hour."
"I am satisfied," Tempus declared. "The Bureau has reminded me that 'Time' is not a 'Deadline.' It is a 'Canvas'."
He reached into his robe and pulled out a small, ticking object. It was a Pocket Watch with no hands.
"Take this, Archivist," Tempus said, handing it to Ne Job. "It is the 'Second of Pure Possibility.' Use it when the 'Grid' becomes too tight. Use it when you need a 'Moment' that doesn't belong to the 'Clock'."
The Archivist's Log
The transition back to the Bureau was seamless, marked only by the smell of "Old Books" and "New Coffee." The Hall of the Infinite Second was gone, replaced by the familiar ivory-and-mahogany warmth of the C-7 Department.
LOG: CHAPTER 122 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Elder Tempus retired. Temporal Stagnation averted.
NOTE: The God of Time likes "Unfinished Business." Apparently, the "Almosts" are more interesting than the "Actuals."
OBSERVATION: We are now in possession of the "Second of Pure Possibility." Assistant Yue says it has a 100% "Paradox Potential," but I think it just looks nice on my desk.
P.S.: The Muse has decided that her new "Uniform" is "Raw Potential." I have informed her that it is "Visually Distracting" to the "Sentient Paperclips."
Ne Job looked at the handless pocket watch. It wasn't ticking, but he could feel it pulsing.
Suddenly, the "Pavilion of Reflection" in the Lobby turned a bright, neon-orange.
"COMMISSIONER!" Assistant Yue's voice was a jagged 9.5% frequency of "Imminent Chaos." "THE. DEPARTURE. OF. ELDER. TEMPUS. HAS. CREATED. A. 'VACANCY'. IN. THE. 'CONCEPTUAL. HIERARCHY'. AND. IT. SEEMS. THE. 'BUREAU. OF. TOTAL. CHAOS'. HAS. JUST. SENT. US. A. 'TAKEOVER. BID'."
Ne Job sighed. "Of course they did. Is it a legal document?"
"NO," Yue replied. "IT. IS. A. GIANT. EXPLODING. CAKE. THAT. IS. CURRENTLY. 'RECITING. OBSCENE. LIMERICKS' AT. THE. ARCHITECT."