July 2nd, 2028

Morong, Bataan – Proposed Aurora Nuclear Core Facility Site

9:14 AM

It didn't look like a billion-peso project site.

Not yet.

It was just a fenced-off coastal area, partially cleared, with survey teams, soil drills, and stacks of topographic maps clipped to makeshift tables. A mobile restroom stood beside a generator. The air smelled like salt and diesel.

But to Timothy, this was the beginning.

This was where the first conventional nuclear plant would stand.

Aurora Power Project – Site 1.

He arrived with only two people — Jose Reyes and Senior Project Coordinator, Mark Velasquez — who was reviewing drone scans on his tablet.

"Morning, sir," Mark greeted. "You're right on time. DOE evaluation team should arrive in twenty minutes."

Timothy just nodded and stepped toward the edge of the site, overlooking the coastline. The same place where the shelved Bataan Nuclear Power Plant stood decades ago — an abandoned monument to fear, indecision, and politics.

He wasn't repeating that story.

Jose stopped beside him, arms behind his back. "Survey data is solid. Soil condition stable. Minimal liquefaction risk. Bedrock depth is manageable within standard containment construction."

"Grid access?" Timothy asked.

"Two high-voltage lines intersect three kilometers inland. NGCP confirmed capacity support, as long as DOE approves national integration."

Timothy didn't reply. He already expected it. What mattered was the timeline.

"How soon can we break ground?" he asked.

Jose looked down at his folder. "If DOE pre-approval is signed today, we can begin land grading in six months. Structural works can begin early 2029."

Timothy nodded.

Survey crews noticed him from afar. He recognized their looks — not admiration, not celebrity excitement — but curiosity. No politician visits this site. No ribbon-cutting ceremony. No media coverage.

This wasn't a publicity stunt.

It was the start of industrial history.

"Sir," Mark said, walking back from the temporary command booth, "DOE convoy just reached the checkpoint."

"Good," Timothy replied. He turned around. "Let's show them what they need to see. Not what they want to see."

—

Nine vehicles arrived.

DOE officials, NGCP technical analysts, representatives from DENR, PNRI, and NEDA. No cameras. No reporters. No press kits.

That was Timothy's condition. No politics. No photo sessions.

Only work.

The visiting engineers looked around. Some took photos. Others inspected the soil drill samples and topographic markings.

Timothy didn't approach them first.

Instead, he let Jose handle initial technical briefings. That was his role.

Jose pulled up the 3D model of the planned Aurora Core Facility — 1,100 MW capacity, twin cooling towers, independent emergency cooling trench, and standardized reactor protective housing.

One DOE engineer studied the model. "So this is Gen-III+ design?"

"No," Jose replied. "This is modified Gen-IV — passive-safety-enhanced sodium-cooled model. No pressurized water. Reduced meltdown risk. Walk-away safe."

The DOE officials nodded slightly.

One PNRI analyst asked, "Your site classification allows a 1km buffer zone. This reactor… does it need that much?"

Jose answered, "Technically, no. But we kept the original zoning for community reassurance. Familiar land-use designation helps local acceptance."

An older official — clearly more political than technical — asked, "How's the community sentiment?"

Timothy finally stepped forward.

"They don't want promises," he said. "They want guarantees. Jobs, energy access, and safety. So we don't make speeches. We show data."

The official didn't reply, but he listened.

Another DOE officer looked around. "You've already begun fencing. But you haven't received pre-construction authorization."

Timothy nodded. "Permit fencing, soil sampling, and topographic studies are allowed under exploratory authorization. We're still within scope."

The DOE officer seemed surprised he kept it that strict.

Many project developers bent rules.

Timothy didn't.

That's why they trusted him — not because he had money, but because he followed procedure with precision.

A few minutes later, the group gathered around the table for the final site assessment.

Jose ran through feasibility metrics:

Seismic risk: Low to moderate, foundation depth manageable Typhoon exposure: High, but reactor center location strategically shielded Grid proximity: Excellent, dual-grid redundancy possible Water supply: Coastal access, deep intake feasibility confirmed Local support: Neutral, pending DOE community briefing

The DOE officials exchanged glances — good ones.

Then, finally, the lead official — Undersecretary Mikhail Sta. Elena — closed his folder.

"Mr. Guerrero," he said, "we don't usually confirm approval at site visits."

Timothy didn't speak.

He just waited.

"But," Sta. Elena continued, "given the urgency, the national energy demand forecasts, and your compliance so far — we are recommending pre-construction authorization to the Secretary."

Jose didn't react outwardly.

But Mark let out a quiet breath.

It was the permission they needed to start actual land preparations.

"I'll expect official documents," Timothy said plainly.

"You'll have them within the month," Sta. Elena replied.

The rest of the DOE team continued site inspection. Some even stayed behind to study deeper core samples.

For a first inspection, this was clean.

Almost too clean.

And Timothy knew why.

They weren't just approving the site.

They were testing him.

If Timothy treated nuclear like a PR stunt, they would have walked away.

But he didn't.

He treated it like engineering.

That was the difference.

—----------------------

1:22 PM

On-site Temporary Command Unit

It was a makeshift trailer office. Tables, charts, a drone screen, two folding chairs.

Timothy sat inside, reviewing projected deployment costs again.

Three sites.

₱220–260B – Bataan

₱235–290B – Negros

₱210–240B – General Santos

Plus SMRs.

Plus research park.

Plus manufacturing, logistics, talent training, waste management.

It wasn't just expensive.

It was long.

Slow.

Complicated.

Exactly how real industrial progress always begins.

Jose entered while reviewing drone feeds.

"Sir," he said, "even after approval, it's going to be years before people believe this will actually be built."

"People believe things when they see them," Timothy replied.

"Even nuclear?"

Timothy looked at him.

"Especially nuclear."

—

3:48 PM

Back at TG Tower

Timothy stepped out of the elevator and walked straight to his desk.

No fanfare.

No announcement.

No press release.

He just picked up his pen and wrote the first line in a new document:

Aurora Power Project – Phase One Approved (Pre-Construction).

He stared at the words for a second.

Then he added:

Objective: Break ground before Q1 2029. No delays. No excuses.

He closed the document.

Then he opened another one.

TG Energy Systems — SMR Manufacturing Facility — Location Evaluation (Subic, Clark, Batangas).

The factories that would build the reactors.

The reactors that would power the factories.

He leaned back.

This wasn't just nuclear.

This was building an energy-backed industrial economy.

With factories that never shut down.

With cities powered by certainty.

With the Philippines becoming an energy exporter.

One day.

But first.

They would build the foundation.

And foundations don't make headlines.

They make history.

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