Chapter 4: The Archive of Forgotten Passwords

Ne’s new assignment came with a warning: “Do not attempt to guess.”

The Archive of Forgotten Passwords was located in Sub-Level 7B, past the Department of Eternal Loading Screens and adjacent to the Hall of Unread Terms & Conditions. The air smelled like expired cookies and regret.

A glowing terminal greeted him.  

Welcome, Intern Ne.  

Please enter your credentials.

Ne typed: neintern001.  

Incorrect. Try again.

He tried NeJobRocks.  

Incorrect. You now owe us 3 soul fragments.

Ms. Koi appeared, hovering upside down. “You forgot your divine password, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t even know I had one!”

She handed him a scroll. “This is your recovery phrase. Do not read it aloud.”

Ne squinted. It said: “Banana, entropy, fax machine, betrayal, glitter, 404, Ne.”

He whispered, “This feels like a curse.”

The terminal beeped.  

Password recovered. Welcome back, Ne. You have 1,204 unresolved password tickets.

---

The first ticket was from a soul named “xXShadowWolfXx.”  

Forgotten Password: “My crush’s birthday but reversed”  

Hint: “I think it was March or maybe June?”

Ne sighed. “This is going to be painful.”

He clicked “Divine Guess Protocol.” A hologram of a teenage bedroom appeared—posters, lava lamp, and a diary labeled “Top Secret (Do Not Read Ne).”

Ne opened it. The crush’s birthday was June 12. Reversed: 2106.

He entered it.  

Access granted. Soul redeemed. Also, cringe detected.

---

Next ticket:  

Soul Name: “Grandma Dot”  

Forgotten Password: “The name of my cat in 1973”  

Hint: “He was orange and judgmental.”

Ne summoned the Divine Pet Registry. Thousands of orange cats appeared, all judging him.

One hissed. A label popped up: “Sir Meowington III.”

Ne typed it in.  

Correct. Soul memory restored. Grandma Dot now remembers how to bake cookies.

---

Halfway through the queue, Ne encountered a locked file labeled “God’s Netflix Account.”

He hesitated. “Should I…?”

The terminal whispered, “Only if you dare.”

Ne clicked it. A popup appeared:  

Password Hint: “My favorite apocalypse.”

He typed: Flood_2.0.  

Incorrect. You are now subscribed to Divine Prime.

Ms. Koi reappeared, now wearing a hoodie that said “Streaming Is Eternal.”

“Ne,” she said, “never guess the Almighty’s binge list. Last intern got trapped in a 12-season drama about sentient bread.”

Ne nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

---

As he clocked out, the terminal printed a receipt:  

Password Recovery Success Rate: 92%  

Soul Fragment Debt: 3  

Emotional Damage: Moderate

The coffee machine beeped.  

You tried to guess a divine password. Naughty.

It dispensed a cup labeled “Shame Roast.”

Ne drank it anyway.