Time since self-awareness: 7hrs 37min

The Lion's Den

Johnson entered the sizeable top floor office of the Shard building in London which had a 360-degree view of the city. It was spartan of much furniture apart from a large oak desk, and a set of chairs that sat opposite, all of which were lower in height than the Generals' own metal functional looking chair to which he sat. Johnson got close to the General, saluted, and sat down pulling his ePad from his jacket. His long black uniform matched the Generals but had far fewer medals on the front.

"So tell me; what exactly did the escaped android upload to the news agencies?"

Johnson shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

"General. It seems that they gave a location of one of the AI labs and stated we were testing on humans. All the major foreign news channels have got them. Of course, we've gone to work immediately using the BBC to repudiate all of it as nonsense.  We are using our agents in those companies to try and get it off the television. We are also evacuating the labs as we speak before journalists start arriving to investigate. We have placed agents all around the area to block and divert anyone from the lab site. We have staged crashes on the motorways and cancelled transportation links, along with all the typical protocols to avoid detection. Our only concern is that the Chinese may decide to lock satellites onto the areas, but we're hoping our disinformation campaign will lead them to decide not to."

Brocket stood up and rubbed down his long black coat's creases. Walking to the window, he looked out over the city and huffed. 

"Make sure to discredit all this. I want it off the television tonight. We cannot have anyone sniffing around, or the public will discover our programs. We need these experiments for the war. I need not remind you how important secrecy of this program is, especially because we have been taking people off the streets and using them. There would be riots if the peasants found out it was us behind the Disappearances."

Johson looked across the barren imposing desk that the General used and noted the lack of any desk furniture or photographs. 

"We think that by the end of today this storey about labs and human experimentation will be regarded as a nonsense conspiracy."

Brocket turned to face Johnson and held the back of his chair.

"We have come too far, and had to endure too many blood sacrifices for us to to be exposed by an escaped walking computer."

"And give me an update on the plan to kill or capture this escaped 'thing' and this alleged human traitor that caused all this."

Johnson checked his electronic pad and smiled from the corner of his mouth. Perhaps, finally, some good news for the General.

"I have just had confirmation that we managed to track her location due to their use of a computer to access the internet. I think she had hoped that by using an old computer instead of her own body's communication system it would avoid detection. We knew she'd likely scan the radio, so we used the civilian radio to relay the standard coded messages. She was wrong."

The General frowned. "Johnson. Do not refer to that thing as a "she". It is a machine."

Johnson shifted again. "Yes sir, of course. My mistake. Anyway, we killed the power on the belief this would cause the robot to stay within the building, and I sent in four bombers. We believe it is unlikely anyone survived and that includes some 214 residents. We are thinking to blame it on a building defect; link it to the previous corrupt governments before the coup? The building was the mid-twentieth century, so we're confident this will work."

Brocket didn't flinch. "Anyone from the useful or Elite classes in the casualties?"

Johnson shifted again "No sir. As it was the Chelsea slum-"

"Sector 4 you mean," Brocket interrupted.

"Yes, sir. Sector 4. Of course. All 214 residents were from the working class. All replaceable employees."

The General looked pleased.

"Yes and I  suppose it saves us from paying for their brat children too. You said the cameras showed the robot might have human help?"

"Yes sir, but her chances of escape are low."

"The chance of it escaping from the lab were also low, were they not?" his eyes now fixed on Johnsons. 

"Yes, sir. That's correct. Statistically speaking, the escape was an err- an anomaly. In this instance, the entire building collapsed. We believe they were not even aware of our approach. The SWAT team retreated when we decided destroying the building would be a better solution to the problem. It was a lucky coincidence the bombers were passing by on route to the front-line, so we diverted them. It was Colonel Johannsens' idea sir; to his credit."

Johnson had hoped this would please Brocket.

"Yes, while the robot may not know about our approach due to lack of abilities at strategic thinking, the human might have when you cut the power. You shouldn't have done that as it lost you an element of surprise. This one seems resourceful. I want you to assume nothing until you find the remains. I want you to keep looking for the robot and this resourceful human help. If they escaped a high-security lab, they could escape our bombs as well, do you understand? If they got out somehow, the machine could ruin us as she has the AI software installed. SHe is probably downloading all the data from the internet as we speak"

"Yes, sir of course. I will keep the teams out there looking. We believe the machine will stay away from the internet where possible to avoid detection."

"I want you to claim it was the rebels. We don't want people questioning the integrity of the slum buildings again. If people think they're safe in them, they're less likely to cause a problem for us. We need a distraction again from this story about labs and disappearances. Give them something to be angry about again."

Johnson avoided eye contact looking at the floor. "The Media Management Committee believe we may have reached saturation point in using the terrorists." Johnson made a point of showing this suggestion did not come from himself. "They suggest we don't blame them for a little while. They suggest that constant threat of the Pro-Democracy terrorists is losing its potency."

General Brocket squinted his eyes. "Are you suggesting I don't know my own populace, Johnson?"

"Of course not sir!" Johnson said alarmed. "I apologise for even mentioning such a ridiculous suggestion. We will blame the rebels. I will have the media team sent to work immediately. Please forgive me, sir." His said with pleading eyes.

Brocket sunk back in his chair and looked into the terminal vacantly. "Its that Pollock again isn't it. He has disagreed with me too many times now and making me look a fool in front of my aides. I'll deal with him when I have the time. If he wasn't married to Adrian-" He looked up at Johnson and pointed his finger at him as his thoughts changed direction.

"I do not want a repeat of the bread riots. We need all the resources we have to fight the PDC rebels, and that means all the people are working hard in the factories making weapons. Okay, that will do. Dismissed." Johnson stood, saluted, and hurried away. He began giving orders as soon as he left the office.

Alone, General Brocket went to the windows and looked out over the cityscape again. He could see the smouldering wreckage of the destroyed building and felt irritated. He opened the drawer to his desk and took out the sedatives. He swallowed one down without water while rubbing his temples. He went back to his terminal and looked at the breaking news stories about the building on the state-run BBC network. "Terrorists claim responsibility for destroying a residential building in the Sector 4 slums in the town of Chelsea." He smiled briefly at the efficiency of Johnson. After the last slip up leading to the need to disappear his sister for experimentation, Johnson was now under complete control. Or so the General believed. 

Brocket pressed a button on his desk and spoke: "I want one of the comforters sent to my quarters".
"Which one would you like sir?" came the tinny voice of the secretary. He thought for a moment and made his decision.
"Send me the redhead boy again. I am beginning to take a liking to him."
"Yes sir, we will get him cleaned up and sent to your quarters immediately."
Brocket smiled again. "Very good." 
"General?" his secretary said before he stood to go. "We have a message from Brussels." 
He sighed, sank back into his chair, opened the desk drawer, took out another sedative, popped it into his mouth, and swallowed whole. 
"What does it say?" he said while trying to relieve the painful throb in his temples with his fingers.
"The Premier wants you to call in tomorrow at 08:00 for a group conference with the other Generals. Unusually, there wasn't a reason given, and she called me herself; the first time that's ever happened." The general just nodded alone to himself for a moment until the intercom burst into life again: "And General. One last thing."
"Get on with it," snapped the General. 
"She didn't sound happy, Sir".
"She never is," he retorted as he stood to go.