"What the hell just happened?" Hawthorne spun toward his engineering team.
Dr. Vasquez rushed to the car with diagnostic equipment. Her face went pale as she read the results. "Complete system failure across all networks. Engine, electronics, AI processing—everything's dead."
"Then fix it!"
"We're trying, sir, but—"
"No buts! Tomorrow's presentation cannot fail! Get every engineer in here! Cancel all leave! I don't care if it takes all night!"
Word spread through Technocore like wildfire. The prototype, their crown jewel, was completely dead. Engineers flooded in from every department; the parking lot transformed into a high-tech emergency room. Diagnostic cables snaked across the concrete. Laptop screens glowed in the afternoon sun. Twenty of the world's top automotive engineers swarmed the disabled prototype like surgeons around a critical patient.
"Run full electromagnetic spectrum analysis," Dr. Vasquez ordered.
"Check all power coupling systems," called out James Mitchell.
"Swap the primary AI processing unit," suggested another engineer.
For four hours, they systematically replaced every major component: new engine control modules, fresh battery packs, backup AI processors. The car remained stubbornly dead.
Hawthorne paced like a caged tiger, his fury growing with each failed attempt. He screamed at his team, threatened their jobs, and made increasingly desperate phone calls to investors.
"Status report," he demanded every 30 minutes.
"Still working, sir," Dr. Vasquez replied, sweat beading on her forehead despite the cool air.
"Work faster! I have fifty investors flying in tomorrow morning expecting to see automotive history!"
The pressure was crushing. Careers built over decades teetered on the edge of destruction. These weren't just jobs—they were life's work: families, mortgages, children's college funds.
"How can twenty genius-level engineers be stumped by a simple mechanical failure?" Hawthorne raged during an emergency meeting.
"Sir, this isn't mechanical," Dr. Vasquez explained patiently. "The diagnostic patterns suggest electromagnetic interference, but we can't isolate the source."
"Then find it! I don't pay you millions to make excuses!"