Chapter 52: The Shadow of the Stapler
The silver stapler had been Ne Job's constant companion since Chapter 1. It had pinned together shattered realities, secured heroic capes, and even defied the Author's Golden Period. But in the Bureau of Cosmic Alignment, even tools can suffer from a 7.5% increase in ego.
It began at 08:30 Cycles. Ne Job went to secure a standard "Trajectory Change" form, and the stapler didn't just click—it growled.
"Did you hear that?" Ne Job asked, shaking the device.
"Hear what?" The Muse replied, leaning over his desk. Just as she did, the stapler leaped from Ne Job's hand like a caffeinated frog. KA-CHUNK!
"Ow!" the Muse yelped. She tried to step back, but she couldn't. Her electric-neon hair was now perfectly, silver-stapled to the corner of Architect Ao Bing's most prized blueprint of the "City of Eternal Glass."
The Rogue Binder
"My hair! My blueprints!" the two cried in unison.
"I didn't do it!" Ne Job shouted, reaching for the tool. But the silver stapler was already on the move. It scurried across the desk on its metal base like a crab, its spring-loaded jaw snapping with a metallic snick-snick-snick.
It wasn't just joining papers anymore; it was joining Concepts. It jumped onto a cup of coffee and a nearby dictionary, stapling them together. Suddenly, the coffee didn't just contain caffeine; it contained "Definitions." Every sip made Ne Job speak in perfectly structured, though highly caffeinated, Latin.
"Caffeina est vita!" Ne Job shouted, his eyes wide.
The Great Joining
The stapler became a silver blur of "Unwanted Unity." It zipped through the Grand Lobby, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake:
Assistant Yue's Typewriter was stapled to a Sack of Flour, causing her to type out memos that were 100% gluten-heavy.
Barnaby the Dragon's tail was stapled to a Box of Holiday Decorations, making the dragon jingle every time he breathed fire.
The Lead Princess was stapled to a Speed-Limit Sign, forcing her to walk at exactly five miles per hour.
"It's become a Synthesis Addict!" Pip yelled, dodging a staple that tried to join their goggles to a nearby ham sandwich. "It thinks everything in the Bureau should be one big, messy 'And'!"
The 7.5% Divorce
"We have to de-couple!" Ao Bing groaned, trying to un-snag the Muse's hair from his blueprints without causing a narrative tear. "If it joins too many things, the Bureau will become a single, undifferentiated mass of 'Stuff'!"
Ne Job realized that the stapler wasn't being evil; it was just over-performing its primary function. It had spent so much time keeping the story together that it had forgotten how to let things be separate.
"Pip! The wrench! We need to adjust the 'Individualism' setting!"
"I can't get close enough!" Pip cried. "It's currently trying to staple the 'Past' to the 'Present'! If it succeeds, yesterday will happen at the same time as now, and I haven't even had breakfast yet!"
The Administrative Separation
Ne Job stood in the center of the Lobby. He didn't chase the stapler. Instead, he pulled out a Box of 7.5% Non-Stick Staples—a prototype designed for "Temporary Alliances."
"Hey! You!" Ne Job called out. "You want to join things? Try joining these!"
He tossed the box into the air. The rogue stapler, unable to resist its nature, dove for the box. As it swallowed the non-stick staples, its metal jaw began to slide. It tried to staple a filing cabinet to a cloud, but the staple simply slipped off.
The stapler let out a dejected thwip. Its red-glow faded back to a soft, loyal silver.
The Un-Stapling
With the tool back in his hand, Ne Job used the "Reverse Lever" to carefully un-join the chaos. The Muse's hair was freed (leaving her with a 7.5% more 'industrial' hairstyle), the dragon stopped jingling, and Assistant Yue stopped smelling like a bakery.
LOG: CHAPTER 52 SUMMARY.
STATUS: Stapler recalibrated. Unity reduced to manageable levels.
NOTE: I have promised the stapler that we will do 'Extreme Filing' on Fridays to satisfy its urges.
OBSERVATION: Too much connection is just as dangerous as too much separation.
P.S.: I'm still speaking a bit of Latin. Errando discimus—we learn by making mistakes.
The Muse looked at her reflection in a silver tray. "I kind of liked being stapled to the blueprints, Ne Job. I felt... architectural."
Ne Job tucked the stapler back into his belt. It gave a small, contented click.
"Don't get used to it, Muse," Ne Job said. "We have enough problems without you becoming a structural support beam. Now, who's ready to investigate why the Galaxy in the Filing Cabinet has started singing disco?"