The air in the control room crackled with a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sunlight streamed through a large panoramic window, illuminating the faces of engineers, technicians, and senior executives. Large monitors displayed a live feed of the sleek, charcoal-grey prototype, a next-generation business jet, as it streaked across the clear sky. The aircraft's call sign, "Phoenix One," was displayed prominently on one screen, next to real-time telemetry.

"Phoenix One, holding steady at 45,000 feet. All systems green. Initiating high-speed test sequence." an automated voice from the jet controls erupted. Roland gazed at the taking off jet, his finger tip on his chin, thinking, analyzing where and when the jet could go wrong. This was their attempt at making an unmanned, automated commercial use jetline, really a test flight with the use of AI towards an aircraft, and to test out the limitations. His eyes narrowed, concentrating on a single point where the jet was in flight motion.

Beside Roland, stood the lead engineer, Dr. Vance Tanaka, who glanced at him with an unsure, hesitant look and murmured: "Wait. Thermal anomaly. Engine three."

On the main thermal monitor, a section near the starboard engine, previously cool blue, flared to an angry bright orange, then red. A digital readout next to it flashed: "ENGINE 3 - OVERHEAT - 550°C."

The automated voice, too distant and too cold for the gravity of the situation of flying the aircraft resonated in everyone's ears: "Fluctuation escalating. Losing thrust on engine three! Pressure dropping! Phoenix One reporting critical engine failure!"

On the main screen, the Phoenix One's exhaust plume wavered, then visibly degraded. The aircraft began to yaw violently, a sudden, uncontrolled lurch against the blue backdrop. Gasps filled the control room.

"Phoenix One, report current status! Engage emergency protocols!" moving promptly, Roland shouted to the intercomms of the jetline. "Full override! Engage Automated Emergency Landing Sequence!" Dr. Tanaka too, ordered a young engineer nearby with a hastened voice, clearly nervous of their boss's response if this went downhill.

A new set of data points, stark red against black, instantly flooded the main display: "AUTONOMOUS EMERGENCY PROTOCOL: ENGAGED." The aircraft, previously tumbling chaotically, seemed to catch itself. It was still spiraling, but now, subtly, a corrective force took hold. The pitch became less erratic. The Phoenix One, though clearly damaged and trailing a thin wisp of smoke from its compromised engine, began a steep, controlled descent.

The emergency landing strip, a white ribbon, grew larger on screen. But the aircraft wasn't aiming for it, not directly. With chilling precision, the AI steered the disabled aircraft towards a barren expanse of the field not far from the main runway, away from any potential ground structures or personnel.

Not a landing; a controlled crash for minimum collateral damage. thought Roland as he watched the jet descend with a stoic look devoid of any emotions: just brutal calculation and curiosity, a hunger to fix mistakes he considered as his.

Suddenly, the image on the main screen jerked violently as the jet made ground contact, not with a gentle touchdown, but a brutal, high-speed impact. A shower of dust and debris erupted, momentarily obscuring the view. The live feed pixelated, then froze.

An uncomfortable, heavy silence cascaded on the control room, broken only by the whirring of machines. The image on the main screen showed a mangled, unrecognizable heap of metal and composite materials, partially consumed by a small, quickly growing fire. Tanaka had seen Roland scrap billion-dollar dreams for lesser failures.

Then, with a precise and controlled voice with an undercurrent of tension, he uttered: "Get me a full data download from the wreckage site. Every byte. And a complete analysis of the autonomous system's decision matrix."

He then turned to walk out of the control room but turned back. "This is the cost of innovation. We learn more in failure than comfort. Now: data retrieval. Then rebuild." He paused, scanning the stunned faces of his employees. "Tomorrow, we start again. Stronger. Smarter."

He drove straight back home while his thoughts whirled on the failed jet, his mind still working on what went wrong, until it clicked to him when he had his Frappuccino at the local Starbucks as he stared at a Nescafe machine pouring to a cup: a subtle, misleading stream of information. He quickly dialed up Tanaka, the half-drunk Frapp abandoned. "Check the critical sensor data. A malfunction, corruption, all of it. Now."

As soon as he entered through his penthouse door, after parking his Agera in the garage at the usual spot, the air seemed to relax imperceptibly. The Engineering terms and language faded in his house, stripping him raw, to the man he truly was, and that itself was unnerving. The smell of something so homely hit his senses, pancakes? waffles? something homemade that you loved to try out. He didn't admit how much it relaxed him so suddenly oh no, that is just a passing thing, he thought, but he felt it in his bones, deep. Why he denied it to himself remained a mystery even to him.

Hanging the coat on the rack and removing his shoes, he trailed to the kitchen and leaned to the counter, his hands folded but the previous uptightness in his shoulders momentarily forgotten. "Tea time already?" he asked, as a slow, creeping curve rose on the edge of his lips, existing as long as you didn't turn to look at him.