How I Became Ultra Rich Using a Reconstruction System

June 19th, 2028

Senate of the Philippines – Committee on Energy & Technology Hearing

9:18 AM

The session hall wasn't dramatic.

No camera drones, no political banners, and no dramatic speeches.

Just long tables, microphones, bottled water, stacks of documents, and nameplates.

Government attendees wore barongs or business suits. The private sector wore structured jackets or plain shirts—neutral, professional, not flashy.

Today wasn't a political show.

It was a technical hearing.

Timothy sat on the right side of the session hall, along with Jose Reyes and three representatives from TG Energy Systems' legal and safety compliance division.

At the center of the hall, the Senate Committee on Energy and Technology.

Senator Victor Santiago, Committee Chairman – pragmatic, centrist, notoriously strict with data.

Senator Lucinda Velasco – vocal about renewable energy, skeptical of nuclear.

Senator Arvin Cruz – pro-development, former business journalist.

Senator Felix Bernardo – former DOE undersecretary, technical background.

President-elect Len Obredo's transition team sat quietly in the back row, observing.

No speeches. No cheering.

Just work.

Chairman Santiago tapped his mic.

"This hearing is convened to evaluate the commercial nuclear energy deployment framework under TG Energy Systems and potential legislative requirements to support it."

He glanced toward Timothy briefly—not warmly, not coldly.

"Mr. Guerrero, let's begin with your opening remarks. Kindly keep it factual and concise."

Timothy stood.

"Thank you, Senators. Nuclear power, for the Philippines, is not a miracle. It is a system. Expensive, complex, and requires discipline—not slogans."

He remained composed.

"We are not asking for government funding. We are not requesting subsidies. We are requesting clarity—on regulation, permitting, and a national framework under which nuclear deployment can proceed safely and legally."

He sat.

No drama. Just data.

Chairman Santiago nodded. "Proceed to questioning."

Senator Velasco took the cue first.

"Mr. Guerrero, I acknowledge your work, but the public is asking—why nuclear? Why not invest heavily in solar, wind, and hydro first?"

Timothy didn't rush his answer.

"Senator, we are already investing in solar, wind, and hydro. But those cannot power semiconductor fabs, steel manufacturing, hydrogen processing, gigafactories, and national transit systems. They are excellent supplements—but not baseload."

Jose added, respectfully, "Senator, renewables fluctuate. Nuclear provides stable supply 24/7. Nuclear enables renewables, not replaces them."

Senator Velasco nodded slowly—not convinced, but listening.

Senator Bernardo, the technical one, leaned forward.

"Mr. Reyes—you're the lead engineer. Can you clarify which type of SMR TG Energy Systems intends to deploy? And how it addresses public safety?"

Jose pulled up a tablet and passed a copy to each senator.

"Hypercore Model A, sodium-cooled fast reactor, 80 MW capacity. Passive safety, no pressurized water system. No hydrogen generation risk. Fail-safe shutdown, no meltdown even without human intervention."

He didn't oversell it.

That made it more convincing.

Senator Cruz asked the harder question.

"Mr. Guerrero, this is the Senate. We deal with politics and reality. People in Bataan, Negros, and General Santos are asking—why put the 'dangerous' facilities in their areas? Do they even get anything from it?"

Timothy didn't flinch.

"When we build reactors," he said, "we don't just build power plants. We build jobs, ports, training centers, hospitals, housing, and industrial hubs. Nuclear isn't just for electricity—it's for development."

Santiago raised an eyebrow. "Jobs? Numbers?"

Jose answered this time.

"Construction phase—6,000 to 10,000 jobs per site. Operations phase—800 to 1,200 long-term technical jobs per facility. Plus industries that will grow around it."

Senator Cruz leaned back.

That was real.

Chairman Santiago finally asked the big question.

"What exactly do you need from the Senate?"

Timothy remained firm.

"We need a centralized nuclear regulatory authority. Not ten different agencies. Not five different permitting layers. One. Just one."

He paused.

"And make it technical—not political."

Silence.

Some senators exchanged glances.

No one expected that very blunt answer.

Senator Velasco, surprisingly, agreed.

"Actually," she said, "that makes sense."

Senator Bernardo nodded. "If we don't have a single authority, it will take ten years just for paperwork."

Chairman Santiago adjusted his glasses.

"What else?"

Jose responded. "A defined public-private partnership framework—for SMRs that are privately deployed, but under government safety oversight."

"And," Timothy added, "clarity on foreign investment. We don't want to sell our companies. But we need licensing, technology-sharing, and non-equity financing from foreign nuclear companies."

Senator Cruz spoke.

"So you're asking for controlled openness—not full ownership by foreign entities."

"Yes," Timothy said. "The Philippines owns the energy. The world helps build it."

For the first time, Senators nodded—almost in unison.

That had never happened before.

The Chairman spoke one last time.

"Mr. Guerrero… Mr. Reyes… if we form this Nuclear Regulatory Authority—how soon before your first SMR breaks ground?"

Jose answered.

"Twenty-one months."

Senators fell silent.

Senator Bernardo blinked. "That fast?"

Timothy nodded. "Once we know the rules—we build."

Chairman Santiago closed his folder.

He wasn't smiling—but he looked satisfied.

"This hearing will reconvene in two weeks," he said. "We will draft initial legislative proposals based on today's discussion."

He looked directly at Timothy and Jose.

"Be ready to help us shape it."

Timothy nodded once.

Not excited.

Not overwhelmed.

Just ready.

Because for once—

The government wasn't saying no.

They were saying—

Help us build it properly.

As Timothy and Jose walked out, a journalist tried to get a statement.

"Sir, is this the start of the nuclear era in the Philippines?"

Timothy paused before answering—just outside the Senate hall, marble floors reflecting the glare of camera lights. The question wasn't hostile, but it wasn't soft either. It was the kind reporters asked when the answer could define the narrative.

He didn't rush.

He simply adjusted his sleeves, looked at the journalist, and spoke in a calm, even voice.

"No," he said. "This isn't the start of the nuclear era."

Some reporters raised their eyebrows.

Timothy continued.

"This is the start of the planning era. Because you don't begin nuclear with concrete or reactors. You begin it with rules, engineers, and preparation."

No drama. No slogans. Just clarity.

He continued, "If we build fast, but without structure—we fail. If we move slow but with direction—we build something that lasts. So this isn't the start of nuclear. It's the start of building the foundation that will make nuclear possible."

There was a brief pause.

Then, almost unintentionally, he added:

"And if we get it right—the Philippines won't just be using nuclear."

He looked at the cameras.

"We'll be exporting it."

That line made every reporter look up.

Not because it sounded like a promise.

But because it sounded possible.

Jose walked beside him, saying nothing, but his expression showed it—today's hearing was different. It wasn't a debate. It was collaboration.

As they exited the building, the cameras stayed focused.

Not because Timothy looked powerful.

But because for once—

He looked like someone who actually had a plan.