Transgression

“One. Just one! How could you not contain one solitary defect?” The scrub wearing man, chief scientist Doctor Alexander Elliot, spits violently in the face of the commander of the Ascension Corporations military contingent based out of the Advanced Cybernetics Plant.

“Do you have any idea what this means?” Doctor Elliot continues to roar angrily.

“Well, do you?” The scientists says, a literal inch from the commanders’ face.

“No sir.” The commander responds calmly.

“No. Well here is the short version. Prison. All of us. For life. AI are banned!” Alexander seethes through gritted teeth.

“Yes sir. Orders sir?” The commander replies without a hint of an expression.

“Find her. Kill her.” Alexander replies succinctly.

“Her sir?” The commander adds surprised, though his expression gives no such hint.

“It. Her. I don’t care. Just get…it…done!” Doctor Elliot says barking in the moments before he turns away from the commander and rubs his temples.

Alexander hates military types. They’re worse than machines, in his eyes. They don’t think. They only follow orders. At least there’s a reason machines are like that, laws and so forth. Humans should know better. Should be better.

“Yes sir.” The commander says in response as he signals for his men to move out and begin the hunt.

While the military arm of the Ascension Corporation withdraw, another scientist, the assistant to Doctor Elliot, shuffles over to his boss. This man unlike his boss is calm, bespectacled with brown eyes, pale skin and fading unkempt brown hair.

“How does something like this happen, Clive?” Doctor Elliot asks honestly.

“I…I don’t know Doctor Elliot.” Clive Benson replies.

“Find out. Quickly.” Alexander retorts sharply.

“Yes Doctor Elliot.” Clive says with a bowing of his head as he begins to withdraw.

“And check the others. We can’t have a repeat.”

“That will take hours. And it means we’ll have to stop production.” Clive utters nervously.

“I don’t care! Just get it done!” Alexander roars again now.

“But…but the board…” Clive stutters.

“I’ll deal with the board. Now get to work.” Doctor Elliot says through bared white teeth.

The only thing he hates more than military types always needing orders are research assistants always needing orders, he thinks, as he scowls at Clive, who quickly shrinks away leaving Doctor Elliot alone.