"... sorry to call you again so soon, but the P.R.T. is really putting their full attention on this. I've been asked to offer you an all-expenses-paid trip to a few different cities in the U.S. to try and get more information."

Eve has a silent conversation with her boyfriend.

"Alright — I can be at the airport in ... call it six hours. Can I bring a plus one?"

"Rose, with how freaked out the Chief Director is, I think you could bring a plus twelve. I'm emailing you your tickets."

"Alright everyone. Thank you all for coming. Explain to me, please, how it is that we manage to lose a piece of extremely dangerous rouge tinkertech somewhere in America for an entire month," Rebecca says, her fingers laced in front of her.

"We think she may have an anti-Thinker power," the think tank representative responds, which is their way of saying 'I don't know, but I'm too smart to not know things unless superpowers are involved'.

"For one thing, she doesn't appear to be the result of a power expression, even though that is obviously nonsense. For another, thinkers trying to determine the location of 'Weeping Cherry' are equally likely to say that she's in India vs the location of 'Yew'. Finally, 'Yew' is definitely within the continental US, but she's either moving too fast or somehow employing a stranger power, because we have not been able to narrow things down beyond that."

"So have we been able to put anything together through conventional means?"

Director Brown, of the Houston PRT, makes an annoyed frown.

"In a word — no. Not only have we not found the bugs it must have in the PRT system, but it more or less vanished immediately into the city."

"I have reassigned Armsmaster to attempt to build a device that can track Weeping Cherry, but he reports only minimal progress, without a known sample to base things on," Director Piggot adds.

"... and that's basically all the useful information from that meeting," Zebrawood summarizes. "So, in short, we've managed to remain pretty much below their radar. If there are no questions, Yellow Birch, you have a report on civilian communications?"

"I've gotten us an array of social media accounts, and started building a network," she reports, sitting up from her place on one of the overlarge bean-bag chairs.

Meetings with her other selves were never very formal.

"Overall, things are surprisingly normal. The PRT has been pushing their narrative, but without any appearances from us to reinforce it, people largely aren't paying attention. If we can continue avoiding presenting as 'dangerous Tinkertech', I think we should have relatively few problems."

"What about physical mail?" Xanthoceras asks.

"Well, that's harder, obviously. I was able to pawn some gold to get money for stamps, but the real problem is getting things into the mail system in bulk without setting off alarms. I can't just park in one of the regional distribution centers, because they actually tag mail into and out of them here, and they'd notice the extra packages. The best we can do is occasionally drop packages in low volumes in multiple cities," Yellow Birch explains. "It's a problem I'm still working on."

The others nod in acceptance.

"Still — a few anonymous monographs on medicine could be helpful, even if we can't start making massive donations. Actually — have you considered just leaving large quantities of supplies in areas that need them with no explanation?"

Yellow Birch shakes her head.

"I did one trial run. The entire supply was impounded, and it actually had a negative impact on recovery because of the attention it drew."

The others issue mild curses.

"Any other questions? Okay — what do we have for physics research?"

"We're making good progress," Xanthoceras reports. "But there's a lot to research. There are a bunch of new fundamental particles available, even if most of them have very short lifespans, because of some additional degrees of freedom in the underlying fields. If you look at this diagram, we think this is a full classification — but these particles in grey are only theorized, not observed. We're going to run more experiments after the meeting to try and confirm their properties ..."

And if Xanthoceras goes into more detail about physics than some of their other project warranted, well, nobody is going to object. They all really do prefer physics research to all of the other stuff they have to do.

Eventually the meeting comes back around to new proposals.

"I think we need to try and go through one of the portals," Zebrawood says. "I'm nearly ready to fork again, and we just have too much to learn about the source of powers, potentially. I know our physics emulation isn't good enough to try and phase through that weird crystal undetected — but we could at least do a test to see if it reacts to putting a dummy through, first."

Yellow Birch looks skeptical.

"These things are connected to people's brains, and we don't know what they do. At a minimum, they might disconnect and kill the people they're attached to. Or disrupt their powers. Or explode. If we wait to have a larger crystal — like the one planned for New Delhi — we might be able to probe far enough to get more details non-invasivly."

"That's going to take time, though, and we still don't actually know what these things are doing," Zebrawood points out. "Xanthoceras was telling us just a moment ago about the weird gravatic distortions—"

"That's not a reason to rush into things. We're growing; it won't be that long before we can get a better look—"

"If we disrupt the crystal that is around the portal, it seems likely the portal would close, right?" Zelkova interrupts.

"Sure," Zebrawood agrees.

"Well then how are we supposed to get any information back?" she questions. "We should be trying to see if we can independently recreate the portals."

Yellow Birch taps her chin.

"That would be a lot easier with some actual samples to play with. Do you think we could ... steal a portal from someone, to experiment on?" she muses.

"Alright. I'm in position, and there's just one other car nearby — the one that's been following them. Am I good to start?"

The others send her a thumbs up.

She puts a particle beam through the engine (she'll fix the road surface later), and waits until the vehicle has come safely to a halt. Then she falls toward the roof.

The roof is not vulnerable to conventional force. In fact, it has been rendered temporarily immune to select laws of physics by nudging it in a very particular direction so that it lies just outside the skin of this reality.