The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Mark walked into Jennifer Walsh's office at 9:55 AM. The scent of lemon disinfectant and fresh paper filled the air. Jennifer sat behind her desk, a folder in front of her. She looked up when Mark entered. "Good morning, Mark. Please, have a seat." Mark sat. The chair was comfortable, but he felt anything but. "I appreciate you coming in," Jennifer said. Her voice was calm, measured. "I know this is a difficult situation for everyone." For everyone. Mark noticed the phrase. It meant this isn't just about you. "I understand," Mark said. "I want to cooperate fully." "Good." Jennifer opened the folder. "I've been reviewing the documentation from David and from Sarah. I have a few questions." "Of course." "First, I want to clarify your role." Jennifer's eyes stayed on Mark's face. "You were the Senior AI Code Reviewer, correct?" "That's correct." "And your responsibility was to review and approve all AI-generated code before it went into production?" "That's correct." Jennifer nodded. "And in this role, you had the authority to reject code that didn't meet standards?" "Yes." "But you approved the code that caused the incident." Mark's stomach tightened. "I did. The code passed all standard tests." "I understand." Jennifer made a note. "And you were aware that Sarah Kim had raised concerns about this code?" Mark hesitated. "I don't recall the specific concerns. But I've seen the emails and the calendar entry." "So you were warned, but you don't recall the warning?" "I don't recall the specific conversation. But I acknowledge that it happened." Jennifer nodded. "And after being warned, you approved the code anyway." "I didn't recall the warning at the time," Mark said. "If I had recalled it, I would have followed up." "But you didn't document the warning. You didn't follow up. And you approved the code." Mark felt the trap close. Every answer made him look worse. "I take responsibility for that," Mark said. "I should have documented the warning. I should have followed up." Jennifer made another note. "Let's talk about the AI vendor. SynthAI, correct?" "That's correct." "And they provide the CodePilot system?" "Yes." Jennifer pulled out another document. "I've reviewed the contract with SynthAI. There's an interesting clause here." She slid the paper across the desk. Mark read it. Section 7.2: Limitation of Liability SynthAI Corp shall not be liable for any damages arising from the use of AI-generated code. The user assumes all responsibility for reviewing, testing, and approving AI-generated output. Mark stared at the clause. He had seen it before, when the contract was signed. He hadn't thought much of it at the time. "This clause protects SynthAI from liability," Jennifer said. "It places all responsibility on the user. In this case, us." "I understand." "So if we were to pursue legal action against SynthAI, this clause would likely protect them." Mark nodded. "That's my understanding." Jennifer made another note. "And who signed this contract?" Mark's stomach dropped. "I... I don't recall." Jennifer pulled out another document. "According to our records, you were one of the signatories. You signed the technical approval for the CodePilot integration." Mark stared at the document. His signature was at the bottom, dated two years ago. He didn't remember signing it. But there it was. "I... I signed the technical approval," Mark said slowly. "But I didn't negotiate the contract." "No, you didn't," Jennifer said. "But by signing the technical approval, you acknowledged that you understood the terms." Mark felt the walls closing in. He had signed a document that protected the vendor. He had approved code that caused an incident. He had ignored warnings. "I understand," Mark said. "I'm not trying to deflect responsibility." Jennifer nodded. "I appreciate that, Mark. But I need to understand the full picture. You signed a contract that protects the vendor. You approved code that caused an incident. You were warned about potential issues and didn't follow up." Mark's mouth was dry. "I understand how it looks." Jennifer leaned back in her chair. "Mark, I want to be fair here. But the evidence is concerning. From a company perspective, we need to understand what happened and why. And we need to determine appropriate next steps." Appropriate next steps. Mark knew what that meant. It meant we're deciding your fate. "I understand," Mark said. "I want to cooperate fully." "Good." Jennifer closed the folder. "I'll be meeting with David and Michael from Legal later today. We'll review everything and make a determination." A determination. Mark felt the word like a weight. "Is there anything else you need from me?" Mark asked. "Not right now," Jennifer said. "I'll be in touch." Mark stood up. His legs felt unsteady. "Jennifer," he said. "I want you to know that I've always tried to do my best for this company. I've never been negligent on purpose." Jennifer's expression was unreadable. "I understand, Mark. But right now, I need to focus on the process." The process. Mark was starting to hate that word. --- Mark walked back to his desk. His hands were shaking. He sat down and stared at his screen. His inbox was full of messages, but he couldn't focus on any of them. He opened his files and searched for the SynthAI contract. He found it, dated two years ago. He read through it. The limitation of liability clause was clear. The vendor was protected. The user was responsible. I signed this, he thought. I signed away our protection. He closed the file and sat back in his chair. His phone buzzed. An email from David. Subject: Follow-up Mark, Thanks for your cooperation with Jennifer. I wanted to let you know that we'll be having a meeting tomorrow to discuss next steps. I'll send a calendar invite. Best, David Next steps. Mark felt the words like a sentence. He closed his laptop and stared at the dark screen. Tomorrow, there would be another meeting. More questions. More documentation. And somewhere, in a notebook or a server, there would be a record of everything he had done wrong. For the record.
The scent of old paper and stale coffee lingered in the air as Mark walked into the office, each step echoing in the empty hallway. His meeting with David and Jennifer was scheduled for 2 PM, but the weight of anticipation made the morning crawl by. He sat at his desk and tried to work. But his mind kept drifting to the meeting, to the questions, to the paper trail being built around him. Around 10 AM, he noticed something strange. His colleagues were avoiding him. It started subtly. He walked to the coffee machine, and the conversation stopped. He passed someone in the hallway, and they looked away. He sent an email to a colleague, and got an out-of-office reply—even though the colleague was clearly at their desk. They know, Mark thought. They know I'm the target. He had seen this before. When someone was being investigated, the office became a different place. People who had been friendly suddenly became distant. Conversations stopped when you approached. Emails went unanswered. He was being isolated. --- At noon, he received an email from Sarah Kim. Subject: Lunch? Mark, I was wondering if you'd like to grab lunch. I know things are difficult. I thought it might help to talk. Best, Sarah Mark stared at the email. He wasn't sure if this was genuine or another trap. He typed a response. Sarah, Thanks for the offer. I appreciate it. But I have a meeting this afternoon, and I need to prepare. Best, Mark He hit send before he could second-guess himself. A few minutes later, Sarah responded. Mark, I understand. I just want you to know that I didn't intend for things to go this way. I was trying to help. Sarah Mark stared at the message. I was trying to help. He closed his laptop and walked to the break room. The coffee machine hummed in the corner. He poured himself a cup and stood by the window, looking out at the city below. He heard voices behind him. Two colleagues, talking quietly. "—heard he's being let go." "Really? I thought they were still investigating." "They are. But everyone knows how this ends." Mark didn't turn around. He stood still, listening. "Poor guy. He was just doing his job." "Yeah, but someone has to pay. That's how it works." Their voices faded as they walked away. Mark stood by the window, his coffee growing cold in his hand. Someone has to pay. That's how it works. --- At 1:45 PM, Mark walked to the conference room. David and Jennifer were already there. Michael Torres from Legal sat at the end of the table. "Thanks for coming," David said. His voice was neutral. "We wanted to update you on the process." Mark sat down. His hands were sweating. "We've completed our initial review," Jennifer said. "And we've made some determinations." Determination. Mark felt the word like a weight. "Based on the evidence," Jennifer continued, "we've concluded that there were failures in the review process. Specifically, failures to follow up on warnings, failures to document concerns, and failures to ensure adequate testing." Mark nodded. He couldn't argue with any of this. "From a legal perspective," Michael said, "the contract with SynthAI protects them from liability. The responsibility for reviewing and approving AI-generated code rests with us. Specifically, with the person who approved the code." With me, Mark thought. The responsibility rests with me. "We've also reviewed the company's policies and procedures," Jennifer said. "The review process was approved by management. But the execution of that process was your responsibility." Mark nodded again. He understood what was happening. They were documenting the chain of responsibility, and it led directly to him. "At this point," David said, "we need to consider next steps. From a company perspective, we need to address the incident, ensure it doesn't happen again, and determine appropriate accountability." Accountability. Mark felt the word like a sentence. "I understand," Mark said. "I want to cooperate fully." Jennifer nodded. "We appreciate that, Mark. We'll be in touch with a formal decision within the next 48 hours." Formal decision. Mark knew what that meant. It meant you're being fired. "Is there anything else you need from me?" Mark asked. "Not at this time," David said. "We'll follow up by email." Mark stood up. His legs felt unsteady. "Thank you for your time," he said. He walked out of the conference room. The corridor stretched before him, each step heavier than the last. --- He walked back to his desk. His colleagues avoided his eyes. He sat down and stared at his screen. His inbox was full of messages, but he couldn't focus on any of them. He opened his calendar and looked at the next few days. It was empty. All his meetings had been cancelled or rescheduled. They're already treating me like I'm gone, he thought. He closed his laptop and sat in the silence. Around him, the office continued. Phones rang. Keyboards clicked. People talked and laughed and worked. But Mark was no longer part of it. He was already gone. He just hadn't been told yet. --- That night, Mark sat at home, staring at his phone. He had received an email from David, sent at 5:30 PM. Subject: Update Mark, Thanks for your cooperation throughout this process. We'll be in touch within 48 hours with a formal decision. In the meantime, please continue to preserve all documentation. Best, David Mark stared at the email. Within 48 hours. He knew what was coming. He had seen it happen to others. The formal meeting. The HR representative. The termination letter. The escort out of the building. He had always thought he was different. He had always thought he was too valuable, too competent, too careful. But now he realized: no one was safe. When something went wrong, someone had to pay. And the person who paid was always the one with the least protection. He put down his phone and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he would go to work. He would sit at his desk. He would wait. And within 48 hours, he would know his fate.