I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 188: Becoming King of Infrastructure
March 25, 2024 — NAIA Tunnel Access Site | 8:00 AM
Beneath the shadow of departing jets, a stretch of earth behind Terminal 3 had been cordoned off with steel fencing and yellow floodlights. This patch of tarmac would become the launch site for the NAIA Connector's first dedicated tunnel segment—an artery set to link the airport terminals directly with the beating heart of the capital's rail grid.
Matthew stood beside the site foreman, boots crunching over gravel. A row of engineers from South Korea, Japan, and Sentinel's local teams stood waiting as Angel stepped out from a nearby prefab office.
"Everything's cleared," she said, holding up her tablet. "Permits, airspace buffer zones, and civil aviation approvals. TBM Rizal's auxiliary shaft will be linked to this tunnel's main corridor through a maglev-compatible junction."
One of the Korean engineers looked over. "You're really attempting a dual-use subway and baggage transport corridor?"
Matthew nodded. "Airport logistics is still stuck in the 90s. We're about to skip three decades of catch-up."
The foreman radioed in. "Drill staging ready. We can begin lining the subsoil by Friday."
Angel tilted her head toward Matthew. "Want to name the launch shaft?"
He glanced up at a nearby sign—'Bay 3 – Cargo Access'. Then shook his head. "Call it 'Runway Zero.' Because this is where the real takeoff begins."
—
Sentinel HQ – Engineering Core | March 26, 2024 | 2:30 PM
Inside Sentinel's Engineering Core, a full-scale prototype of the Cebu Pulse interchange station was being finalized in 3D-printed sections. The structure was elegant—swooping platforms, water-harvesting canopies, and integrated solar tiling. But what caught Matthew's eye was the open, community-first layout.
"Multiple entrances," Angel said, gesturing to the model. "No gated turnstiles. We'll use facial and card recognition instead. Flow, not friction."
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"Safety?" he asked.
"AI-monitored exits and platform barriers. Every station will double as a civil shelter—emergency power, clean water, and comms uplinks."
Matthew crossed his arms, inspecting the modular components. "Then let's take this further. Every Pulse hub should be more than transit—it should be resilience. It should be readiness."
Angel smiled. "Already writing the grant pitch."
—
Ormoc, Leyte — March 27, 2024 | 10:45 AM
Sunlight filtered through thin clouds as Matthew and Angel visited the outskirts of Ormoc. The ground had been marked with orange spray paint, tracing the contours of the Leyte Spine Line's future route.
Children from a nearby school waved at the Sentinel surveyors as they passed.
Angel watched them for a moment. "The school principal said their students walk two kilometers just to get to a road. Not a station. Just a road."
Matthew looked down at the printed blueprint in his hand, then up at the nearby clearing.
"Move the station 200 meters west," he said.
Angel blinked. "That puts it closer to the village."
"Exactly. If they're the first to ride it, we make sure it comes to them—not the other way around."
—
Aurora Central Hub — March 28, 2024 | 7:30 AM
A fresh milestone had just been hit: the Buendia curve was reached. Both TBMs—Aurora and Rizal—had officially bored past two kilometers each. At Central Pulse, teams gathered for a surprise inspection and early morning walkthrough led by Sentinel's top brass.
Angel checked her watch. "Two months ahead of the government's original estimate."
Matthew raised an eyebrow. "And five years ahead of the reality they never reached."
A comms officer jogged up to them. "Sir, ma'am—media wants to do a profile on the tunneling crews. They're calling it 'The People Beneath the Progress.'"
"Do it," Angel said. "But highlight the welders. They rarely get credit."
Matthew nodded. "And let them choose the cover photo. Let the city see whose hands built its spine."
—
Sentinel Rooftop — March 29, 2024 | 9:00 PM
It was a quiet night again.
The moon hung low, tracing silver over the rooftops of the city. Down below, the subway tunnels glowed faintly in their simulation view—lines stretching out like veins, flowing not with blood, but with hope.
Angel leaned on the railing beside Matthew. "Cebu Pulse public reveal is in three days. Want to prerecord a message?"
Matthew shook his head. "No. We show up. In person."
She glanced at him. "And after Cebu?"
Matthew looked at her, then down at the city. "After Cebu… we go north. La Union, Ilocos. Build the arc. Close the loop."
Angel gave a low whistle. "The Northern Crescent."
He nodded. "And when it connects to the Southern Arrow… we'll have a true spine."
Angel smiled faintly, then raised her tea in quiet salute. "To the map we're still drawing."
Matthew tapped his cup against hers. "And to the country that's finally starting to believe."
They stood there for a while—just two silhouettes beneath a sky slowly learning to dream again.
Tomorrow, the stations would grow.
Tomorrow, the pulse would reach farther.
And someday, every child born on these islands would trace their future not by distance…
…but by how close they lived to the next station.
The wind whispered over the rooftop, carrying with it the scent of metal and concrete—unfinished work, still in motion. Angel checked her tablet one last time and noticed an alert from the Leyte team.
"They've broken ground at the first support column site," she said. "The crew there called it a 'birthday gift for the island.' Today's Ormoc's cityhood anniversary."
Matthew smiled. "Good timing. Maybe fate's a project manager too."
Angel laughed softly, then looked up at the horizon. "We've started something no blueprint ever accounted for."
"What's that?" he asked.
"Expectation," she replied. "People don't just hope anymore. They plan around this. They count on it."
Matthew nodded. "Then we better not fail them."
He stepped back from the ledge and offered his hand. Angel took it without hesitation.
"Come on," he said. "We've got a schedule to beat. And a future to lay down."
They walked back inside together, the city humming below, the tunnels breathing forward beneath their feet.
And far beyond, across seas and soil, new stations waited to be imagined—until one day, the whole archipelago would move not apart, but as one.
From coast to corridor.
From silence to movement.
From promise to permanence.
