The parking lot held its collective breath. Hundreds of employees watched from windows, their phones recording what would become the most viewed corporate video in Silicon Valley history. Twenty exhausted engineers stood frozen in place—skeptical, but desperate enough to hope.
Hawthorne crossed his arms with theatrical smugness. "This should be entertaining. Watch carefully, everyone. This is what happens when desperation makes you listen to delusions."
Security guards positioned themselves strategically, ready to escort Zara away the moment she inevitably failed. The live streams on multiple phones had thousands of viewers tuning in as word spread across social media.
Zara ignored the circus completely. Her focus narrowed to the disabled hypercar like a laser beam. She began walking slowly around the vehicle, her worn sneakers silent on the concrete. Every step was deliberate, calculated.
Timer: 55 seconds.
"First question," she called out loud enough for everyone to hear. "Dr. Vasquez, when did this car fail before? The exact dates and times."
Dr. Vasquez pulled up testing logs on her tablet, surprised by the specificity of the request. "Let me see... October 15th at 2:47 p.m. October 17th at 3:12 p.m. October 22nd at 2:33 p.m."
"All Tuesday or Thursday afternoons between 2:00 and 4:00 p.m.," Zara confirmed without looking at the data. "Exactly what I told you from watching outside that fence."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. How could a homeless girl have better records than their diagnostic computers? James Mitchell checked his own logs frantically, his fingers shaking as he scrolled through months of data. "She's... she's completely accurate, down to the minute."
"Lucky guess," Hawthorne muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.
Dr. Vasquez frowned at her tablet. "How did you remember those exact times?"
"I wrote them down," Zara replied matter-of-factly. "Every glitch, every recovery, every pattern. I've been documenting your car's behavior for six months."
Timer: 45 seconds.
Zara stopped walking and pointed toward the cellular tower visible beyond the parking structure. Its red warning lights blinked steadily in the darkness like mechanical heartbeats.
"Second question: when did that 5G tower begin full operational testing?"
Dr. Vasquez looked confused. "I... I don't know. That's telecom infrastructure, not our department."
"Three days ago," Zara said calmly. "October 23rd. I watched them activate it Tuesday morning at 8:47 a.m. The testing schedule runs Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m.—exactly when your car fails."