December 9, 2029 came with a kind of fatigue Timothy recognized. Not the tiredness that came from lack of sleep, but the tiredness that came from carrying a new problem in your head and not letting it go. The Motus One had not failed at Batangas, but it had made a demand. It had shown where the ceiling would be if they refused to change anything, and Timothy had no interest in building a car that stayed polite only when conditions were polite.
He walked into TG Tower earlier than usual. BGC was still half awake, security guards moving slow, cleaners wiping glass, the lobby's lights bright and indifferent. His ID beeped once and the elevator carried him up. By the time he stepped onto the executive floor, Hana was already there, hair tied back, coffee untouched, laptop open, and a printed list of names beside her like she had been waiting for him to say the word.
"You are not going to pretend this is just a hobby," she said.
