I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World

November 7, 2025 — Sentinel Subic — Prototype Assembly Bay

The doors to Assembly Bay 2 slowly creaked open, revealing the gleaming silver body of the first fully assembled Sentinel Aerus prototype.

It didn't look like a car designed in 2025.

It looked like something that had landed from the future and politely asked for road clearance.

The final frame was made of ultra-light titanium alloy beams cradled inside graphene-infused composite body panels. The silhouette was long and clean, with no tailpipes, no grilles—just subtle heat-dissipation lines running from the base of the rear housing. The underbody was smooth, fully sealed for airflow optimization. Every curve felt intentional. Quiet. Powerful. Elegant.

Angel stood at the edge of the bay floor with her arms crossed, not moving.

Matthew walked up beside her, his tablet lowered at his side. "You okay?"

Angel didn't answer right away. She was too busy absorbing what they had built—what they had risked reputations, resources, and sleep for.

"It's not what I expected," she finally said.

"No?" Matthew asked.

"It's… better."

Carina Velasquez, dressed in her usual charcoal gray jumpsuit, strode toward them from the far end. Her hair was tied back, and her gloves were still on, grease streaked faintly across her collar.

"She's operational," Carina reported. "Microturbine synced with the ECU. Fuel module is tuned for kerosene and synthetic aviation blends. Battery unit is charged—mainly for electronics and support systems. We're ready to roll."

Matthew blinked. "Today?"

Carina grinned. "The ignition team just got tired of looking at her. Time to hear her hum."

—

10:45 AM — Sentinel Subic, Private Test Track

The prototype rolled forward in silence, gliding down the sloped ramp as a team of engineers and technicians watched from the elevated glass control room.

Inside the vehicle, Matthew sat in the driver's seat, hands resting on a custom-molded wheel. He wore a black zip-up jacket, headset in place, and heart beating faster than it had in years.

Angel sat in the passenger seat, tablet in her lap, calm but alert.

"I feel like we should say something dramatic," Matthew joked.

"Like what?"

"'Let there be thrust' or something."

Angel smirked. "Just drive."

He pressed his foot gently against the accelerator.

The response was instant—clean, linear, and smooth. There was no rev, no engine growl. Just a soft, accelerating hum that felt more like wind rushing past a closed window than any combustion engine they'd ever known.

The Sentinel Aerus glided onto the track.

—

Lap One: Initial Diagnostics

"Speedometer reads 42 kilometers per hour," Angel reported. "Throttle response is at 93% efficiency. Temp readings holding at 612°C at the exhaust curve."

Matthew adjusted the steering gently, taking the first bend. "Feels good. Tight but light. Chassis responds better than the simulator model."

From the control tower, Carina's voice buzzed in his headset. "Core turbine RPM holding steady at 61,000. We're seeing slight drag increase above 70 kph. Wind resistance might need tuning on the lower vent flares."

"Copy that," Angel replied. "Logging the data."

Matthew straightened out the next stretch and gave the pedal more juice.

The car surged forward.

No gear shift. No noise. Just acceleration.

—

Lap Two: Stress Test

"Let's push her," Angel said.

Matthew tapped the drive selector into Performance Mode.

The turbine spooled higher. The digital display lit red briefly, warning of an output spike, then quickly recalibrated as the system balanced.

Core RPM jumped to 88,000.

Speed climbed—90, 100, 120.

The Aerus held the curve like a whisper in motion, weightless, fluid. The turbine sound never screamed—it pulsed like a heartbeat rising steadily.

"Incredible," Angel murmured. "You're at 127 kilometers per hour. Turbine output at 81%. Still silent."

"Suspension holding up?" Matthew asked.

"Perfect. No shake. Even over the ripple seams."

Then—just to feel it—he lifted his foot.

The Aerus slowed gently, naturally, the turbine easing into a passive idle. A brake regen system lightly assisted, pulling kinetic energy into the buffer system that powered the car's digital core.

Matthew pulled off the test track and rolled into the cooldown bay.

He turned to Angel.

She was smiling.

"Let's build more."

—

1:30 PM — Sentinel Subic, Executive Lab Briefing

The test team gathered around a central table. Screens showed playback of the run. Speed overlays, heat maps, turbine data, fuel consumption, and dynamic stress markers filled the display walls.

"Zero drivetrain lag," Jonas from integration reported. "That's impossible in traditional cars. Even EVs don't deliver that kind of curve without traction issues."

"Fuel usage?" Angel asked.

"Estimated 1.9 liters for the full five-lap run," Lara said. "That's 31 kilometers per liter. And we haven't even tuned for efficiency yet."

The room buzzed with energy.

Matthew stepped forward and gestured to the screen.

"We've done it. You've done it," he said. "We just ran a jet-powered car on kerosene, silently, safely, and efficiently—without a single drop of lithium or a charging cable."

He turned slowly, letting the room take it in.

"Now it's time for phase two: production planning."

A collective breath.

The room was ready.

—

7:20 PM — Rockwell, Their Apartment

Back home, Aurora was nestled on the playmat, batting lazily at a soft hanging cloud. Matthew sat on the floor beside her, looking far too energized for someone who just broke the rules of automotive propulsion.

Angel emerged from the bedroom, wearing a hoodie and loose pajama pants, tying her hair up as she walked.

"Hey," she said, kneeling beside them. "You're still glowing."

"She ran," he said simply.

Angel kissed his cheek. "She did."

Aurora giggled at nothing in particular.

Matthew turned, brushing hair away from Angel's face.

"We're going to change everything, aren't we?"

Angel nodded. "One turbine at a time."

And as Aurora let out a delighted coo and reached up for her mother's hair, the hum of potential filled the air—quieter than engines, deeper than algorithms.

The sound of the future, alive in a living room.

Outside their window, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm—cars honking, neon flickering, life unfolding on a loop. But inside, in this quiet corner of the world, something extraordinary had just begun.

Not a race.

Not a product.

A movement.

And it started not with noise…

…but with a whisper.