CHAPTER 196: REACTIONS FROM THE PEOPLE

The announcement ended at eleven twenty-three in the morning. By eleven twenty-four, the first clips of Timothy Guerrero’s speech had appeared online. Studio 3 at GMA Network Center emptied into the hallway. Producers rushed past one another, preparing for follow-up broadcasts. Cameramen wheeled equipment out of the set. The newsroom was already shifting into analysis mode.

Outside the studio, the city absorbed the broadcast in waves.

The public reaction started quietly, and then grew.

11:30 AM

Quezon City – Commonwealth Market

Vendors took breaks from arranging vegetables and fish to gather around a small television mounted above a stall. The signal flickered, but the replay from GMA News was clear enough. Timothy’s line about collapsing classrooms drew a few shakes of the head.

One vendor crossed her arms.

"So it takes a private company to fix what the government should be doing," she said.

Her friend beside her, counting change for a customer, replied, "At least someone is doing it. My son studies in a room with a leaking roof. If they help, I do not care who it comes from."

A tricycle driver parked near the sidewalk glanced at the screen.

"He looked serious," he said. "Not like a politician promising things. More like someone who will actually build it."

The others nodded. Skepticism mixed with hope, the kind that turned practical after years of seeing nothing change.

11:45 AM

Twitter and Facebook

Social media moved faster than any newsroom.

#TGFoundation trended within minutes.

Some posts were hopeful.

"He said no politics involved. If that is true, this is the first time I have heard something like this."

Others were cynical.

"So a billionaire wants to fix schools. Why not pay taxes instead."

Some were neutral but curious.

"My hometown in Eastern Samar has four collapsed classrooms. If this foundation fixes even one of them, that is already more than we have gotten in ten years."

A teacher from Nueva Vizcaya typed a long post explaining how often she bought chalk, paper, and cleaning supplies using her own money. At the end, she wrote only one sentence.

"If this helps even a little, I support it."

Her post reached fifty thousand shares by the evening.

12:10 PM

A Café in Makati

Young professionals watched the announcement replay on mounted screens. Timothy’s manner caught their attention not because he was famous, but because he looked tired and calm, the opposite of someone chasing applause.

A software engineer stirred his coffee.

"He is treating it like another division of his company," he said. "Structured funding, transparent reporting, no political favors. Honestly, that is how public money should be handled."

A coworker beside him raised an eyebrow.

"You think he can pull it off?"

"If his company can build electric buses and energy systems, he can build classrooms," the engineer said.

Another woman nearby, scrolling through reactions on her phone, added, "The part where he said he would not accept requests from politicians. That will make enemies."

Her friend shrugged. "He already made enemies when he built those buses."

They continued watching. The conversation moved from skepticism to logistics, then to donations, then back to skepticism.

No one dismissed it outright.

That was new.

12:40 PM

Parents’ Group Chat, Cavite

A group of mothers on Facebook Messenger—originally created to discuss PTA contributions—reacted even faster.

One parent sent a screenshot of Timothy saying, Philippine children should not learn in collapsing buildings.

Messages filled the chat.

"Yes please fix our school."

"Maybe they will upgrade the classrooms."

"Is it only for remote areas? How about us?"

A teacher in the group typed a reply.

"If the foundation follows data, it will reach us eventually. Our report from last month is already submitted."

The mothers reacted with heart emojis, thumbs up, and hopeful comments.

For the first time in a long time, the group chat discussed something other than unpaid fees, lost modules, and repair delays.

1:15 PM

The Senate Building

Inside a senator’s office, aides replayed the announcement on multiple screens. The senator watched with a neutral expression.

"This is going to pressure the Department of Education," one aide said.

"It pressures all of us," another replied.

The senator leaned back in his chair.

"He said no political involvement," he said. "That will make him popular."

Another aide frowned at the tablet in her hand.

"It also makes him difficult to influence."

The senator’s tone stayed level.

"Then we do not influence him. We align with him. No one will attack a man building schools. It would look ridiculous."

The aides exchanged looks. The reaction was unlikely to be the same in every political office. Some would feel threatened. Some would try to take credit. Some would wait for the first mistake.

But no one in the room underestimated what had just happened.

Timothy Guerrero had entered a sphere most businessmen avoided: national social infrastructure.

1:40 PM

TG Tower – Executive Floor

Hana stood by the window, her phone vibrating nonstop with notifications. Reporters wanted clarification. Governors wanted meetings. Volunteer groups wanted partnerships. She kept her responses brief, promising coordination once internal structures were finalized.

Carlos walked into her office.

"He really said all of that on live television," Carlos said.

"He did," Hana replied.

"And now everyone expects miracles," he said.

"They expect progress," Hana corrected.

Carlos leaned against the doorway.

"So far, the reaction looks positive."

Hana nodded. "It will stay positive until the first delay or the first criticism from a political figure. Then we prepare for the next storm."

Carlos studied her expression. "Are you worried?"

"No," she said. "I expected this. The real work is starting."

Across the hall, Timothy returned to his office. His table was already filled with folders from TG Mobility, TG Semiconductor, and TG Energy Systems. Executives wanted quick answers. Emails awaited him from three governors and two private foundations offering partnerships.

He ignored them all for the moment.

He set down his phone, sat in his chair, and allowed himself one minute of stillness.

He did not measure the success of the announcement by applause or trending hashtags.

He measured it by the fact that, right now, somewhere in the country, a teacher might be watching the broadcast replay and thinking, Finally, someone is coming.

He picked up the next file.

There was no celebration planned.

There was no need.

The announcement was the first step.

The next years would define everything.

2:25 PM

Nueva Vizcaya – Barangay Hall

The small television broadcast the replay again. Residents who remembered seeing Timothy by the river gathered around, pointing at the screen. The barangay captain scratched his chin.

"He was serious," he said. "He was not pretending. I saw how he looked at the school."

A younger resident nodded. "If they fix that building, our children will not have to walk to the next town."

An elderly man sitting near the window gave a quiet laugh.

"It takes someone from outside to help us when the people inside government ignore us."

But his tone held no bitterness, only resignation.

Hope, however small, had entered the room.

3:10 PM

Public Transport Terminals

Even in the jeepney terminals, the conversation shifted from electric buses to the foundation. Drivers watched clips on their phones while waiting for passengers.

One driver leaned on his vehicle.

"He builds buses and now he wants to build schools," he said.

Another replied, "At least he is fixing something. Our kids suffer the most."

A third driver looked at the screen for a long moment.

"You know what? If he builds a school in my province, I will support him."

It was not a political endorsement.

It was recognition.

4:05 PM

GMA Newsroom

Producers reviewed the public reaction. Surveys collected initial sentiment. Analysts prepared a segment for the six o’clock broadcast.

One producer looked at his colleague.

"People trust him," he said.

"For now," the colleague replied.

The producer nodded. "For now. But trust is rare. He earned today."

Camera crews prepared fresh packages.

The news cycle was shifting.

For once, it shifted toward something constructive.

Back at TG Tower – 4:40 PM

Hana entered Timothy’s office with a stack of reports.

"Public sentiment is overwhelmingly positive," she said. "The backlash we expected has not appeared yet."

"It will come," Timothy said.

"Yes," Hana agreed. "But today went well."

Timothy closed the file he was reading.

"Good. Then we continue."

He stood by the window overlooking the city.

Traffic flowed below. Buildings cast long shadows across BGC. People moved through their day without knowing how fragile the system beneath their feet was.

The TG Foundation was not a solution to every problem.

But it was a start.

A start built on structure, not promises.

A start built on permanence, not speeches.

And somewhere far from the city, in a small school with missing chairs and cracked floors, the announcement had already planted something.

Expectation.

Possibility.

A belief that perhaps this time, improvement might not fade away.

Timothy turned back to his desk.

The next Chapter of the foundation’s work waited for him.

The country had reacted.

Now the country would watch.

And he intended to give them something worth watching.