I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 170: Echoes of the Past

Manila — Wednesday, 8:00 AM

The city stirred to life as the sun cast its golden hues over the bustling streets. Jeepneys weaved through traffic, vendors arranged their wares, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from roadside stalls. Amidst this daily routine, a new topic dominated conversations—the groundbreaking of the Aurora Line.

In a modest eatery in Quezon City, a group of friends gathered for their usual breakfast. The television mounted on the wall replayed clips from the ceremony, showing Matthew Borja driving a silver shovel into the Tarlac soil.

"Did you see this?" Miguel, a bank teller in his early thirties, gestured toward the screen with his fork. "Borja's really pushing through with this railway."

Lina, a schoolteacher, sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "It's ambitious, I'll give him that. But isn't he the same guy who once criticized Filipinos for electing the wrong leaders?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Borja's past remarks had not been forgotten. He had been vocal about his disappointment in the electorate's choices, labeling them as shortsighted and detrimental to national progress.

"Yeah," chimed in Paolo, a freelance graphic designer. "He said something about us being easily swayed by populist promises. It rubbed a lot of people the wrong way."

Lina nodded. "True. But maybe this project is his way of making amends. Actions speak louder than words, after all."

Cebu City — Wednesday, 10:15 AM

Hundreds of kilometers away, in a bustling café overlooking the Mactan Channel, university students debated the same topic.

"Borja's railway could revolutionize our transport system," Anton, an engineering major, remarked, scrolling through articles on his tablet.

"But can we trust him?" Bea, a political science student, countered. "He openly insulted the Filipino electorate. Now he wants our support?"

Anton leaned back, considering her words. "People change. Maybe he's realized the potential he once overlooked."

Bea remained skeptical. "Or maybe it's just another business move. Either way, the public won't forget his past comments easily."

Davao City — Wednesday, 3:00 PM

In the southern part of the archipelago, at a lively marketplace, vendors and shoppers exchanged views amidst transactions.

"That businessman, Borja, he's building a train from Luzon to Mindanao," Aling Nena, a fruit vendor, remarked as she handed a customer a bag of mangoes.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Mang Jose, a tricycle driver waiting for passengers, responded, "After all the things he said about us? Now he wants to help?"

Aling Nena chuckled, adjusting her headscarf. "Maybe he's trying to buy back our favor."

Baguio City — Wednesday, 5:45 PM

Up in the cool highlands, locals gathered at a popular diner, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of pine.

"Borja's project promises to connect the entire country," Carlos, a retired teacher, said, folding his newspaper.

"But at what cost?" questioned Maria, a local artist. "He once belittled our choices as voters. Can we trust his intentions now?"

Carlos took a sip of his coffee, gazing out the window. "Perhaps this is his way of rectifying past mistakes."

Media and Public Discourse

Borja's previous remarks had left an indelible mark on the national consciousness. His candid criticisms of the Filipino electorate's decisions had sparked widespread debate and, for many, resentment.

Editorials and opinion pieces flooded newspapers and online platforms.

The Manila Times posed the question: "Can a man who once doubted the people's judgment now be their champion?"

Philippine Daily Inquirer highlighted the dichotomy: "Borja's bold vision for infrastructure stands in contrast to his earlier disdain for the democratic process."

Online platforms became arenas for heated discussions. Hashtags like #BorjaApologize and #AuroraLineHope trended simultaneously.

@JuanDelaCruz tweeted: "Borja criticized us, but now he's investing in our future. Maybe he's realized the potential he once overlooked."

@MariaClara posted: "Actions speak louder than words. If Borja delivers on his promises, perhaps we can forgive, but not forget."

Matthew Borja's Response

Amidst the cacophony of opinions, Matthew remained largely silent. However, in an exclusive interview with CNN Philippines, he addressed the nation's sentiments.

"I acknowledge my past statements and the hurt they may have caused," he began. "My criticisms stemmed from a deep desire to see our nation thrive. The Aurora Line is not just a project; it's a commitment to the Filipino people. I hope that through tangible actions, trust can be rebuilt."

Grassroots Movements: Bridging the Divide

Community leaders and organizations seized the moment to foster unity. Workshops and forums were organized to discuss the potential benefits of the Aurora Line and address lingering concerns.

In Iloilo, Barangay Captain Lito spearheaded a town hall meeting. "We must look forward," he urged. "While we remember the past, let's also focus on the opportunities ahead."

The Road Ahead

As construction commenced, the nation's eyes remained fixed on the Aurora Line's progress. Skepticism lingered, but so did hope. The project symbolized more than just infrastructure; it represented the possibility of reconciliation, growth, and a shared vision for the future.

In the words of Aling Nena from Davao: "Time will tell if Borja's train leads us to unity or further division. But for now, we watch, we wait, and we hope."

In the weeks that followed, progress became visible—surveying crews in hard hats, drones flying over cleared land, and excavators carving out the early paths of what would someday become the veins of a new, mobile nation. Updates poured in on social media, some skeptical, some supportive, but the conversation had undeniably shifted.

In Bulacan, a farmer named Tatay Lando stood near the edge of his rice field where engineers had just marked new boundary posts. His land had been part of the first wave of negotiated acquisitions. With the compensation money, he planned to modernize his irrigation system and send his granddaughter to college.

"Kung tutuo talaga ang sinasabi nila," he told a visiting reporter, wiping sweat from his brow, "baka ito na nga ang pagbabago."

At a small public high school in Lucena, students were shown renderings of future train stations connecting their city to Manila and Bicol. A teenage girl raised her hand and asked her teacher, "Will we be able to ride this train before we graduate?"

The teacher smiled. "Maybe. Maybe even sooner."

Across the archipelago, conversations shifted from past wounds to future possibilities.

For the first time in a long while, it felt like the country was building toward something that truly belonged to its people.