Ezra Quinn stood up, adjusting the loose sleeves of her shirt, her posture casual but her expression sharp. She’d always had a way of presenting facts in a way that made the complex feel simple. She gnced at the group assembled in the newly renovated barn, now a symbol of both Sasha’s transformation and 6C’s quiet infiltration into the region. Hezri, Vanessa Cross, Dr. Rina Matsui, and Sasha were all present, the air thick with tension as they gathered for their regur discussion.

  With a nod to Hezri, she began.

  "As we all know," Ezra started, pointing to a rge map spread out on the table, "Texas is a giant state—ndmass-wise, it’s almost as rge as some countries in Europe. It’s bordered by Arkansas and Louisiana, both firmly under 6C’s control, but the northwestern and southwestern borders are much more complicated. Texas shares a long border with Okhoma, which remains outside of 6C’s influence, and California, which, despite being rge, has no direct access or influence over Texas."

  She paused, allowing her words to settle in before continuing.

  "Demographically speaking, the south and east of Texas are densely poputed, cities like Houston, Austin, San Antonio, and Dals are major hubs. The state has a diverse popution—there are rge Hispanic communities, as well as a significant African American popution in certain areas. However, the majority of these areas remain secur or hold onto conservative religious practices that aren’t as easily swayed by the policies in pce in 6C-controlled zones."

  Ezra’s eyes flicked over to Rina, then to Sasha, who were both listening intently.

  "The problem, of course," she continued, "is that while 6C has firmly established itself in the southeast and along the Louisiana border, the influence here in the northwestern and central parts of Texas is much more of a gray area. The western side of the state is sparsely poputed, and though there are many rural communities that practice polygamy—illegal, but common—it’s not under any sort of organized oversight like 6C’s other controlled areas."

  She looked to Hezri, who hadn’t spoken much so far but was clearly paying attention.

  "Basically," Ezra said, folding her arms, "Texas is a region ripe for 6C influence, but it’s fragmented. The majority of the popution, particurly in the rge urban centers, remains resistant to policies that mirror those under 6C’s rule. However, in the more rural and isoted areas, polygamy practices are thriving without the state’s interference. These communities, while not officially aligned with 6C, are adopting some of its values, particurly when it comes to gender roles and religious structure."

  Hezri finally spoke, his voice calm but commanding, as always.

  "Your observations are correct, Ezra. Our efforts have been quietly working in these areas, through targeted outreach and community support. But we have not yet made substantial headway in convincing the rger, urban poputions to embrace our cause. The question remains—how do we proceed without causing disruption in the more resistant regions?"

  Rina, who had been listening closely, leaned forward with a slight frown.

  "It’s a delicate bance," she mused, her tone measured. "The potential for influence in rural areas is clear, but we cannot ignore the fact that there’s strong resistance in the more progressive parts of the state. That’s why we need to pn carefully when it comes to expanding our outreach beyond the borders of 6C-controlled territories."

  Sasha, sitting in the corner, had been quiet until now. She shifted in her seat, looking at Hezri, before speaking up.

  "I think we need to focus on the rural communities first," she said, her voice steady. "In my experience, they’re more open to the ideals we’re offering, even if they don’t completely understand the full scope of 6C’s pns. They’re hungry for guidance, for a stronger sense of structure—and we can provide that."

  Vanessa Cross, who had been watching the conversation unfold, spoke up with a knowing smile.

  "Texas may be vast and diverse, but we’ve seen how even the most resistant poputions can be swayed with the right incentives. 6C’s presence in those rural areas, alongside the infrastructure projects we’ve been implementing, can slowly shift things in our favor. But we need to be patient and methodical."

  Hezri nodded thoughtfully.

  "Patience," he said, "is a virtue in this endeavor. We have time to influence these people, to show them the benefits of our system. But we also need to make sure that we don’t push too hard in the more resistant regions of Texas. We’ll work our way through the more vulnerable, less-poputed parts first, slowly building our base of support. Eventually, the urban centers will have no choice but to follow suit."

  Ezra took a deep breath, her expression serious.

  "We’ll need to prepare for resistance from both the local authorities and the general public, especially in the northern and western parts of Texas," she said. "We’ve seen what happens when 6C tries to expand too quickly—there’s a lot of pushback. We’ll need to navigate these challenges carefully."

  Sasha sat back, her mind racing with the implications of everything they’d discussed. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it all—her stance on 6C had shifted, but she still had doubts. Still, she knew that whatever happened, she was no longer standing on the sidelines. She was part of this new world that was slowly but surely coming into being.

  "We’ll start with the rural areas, then," Hezri said, his tone resolute. "The rest will follow."

  ****

  The screen flickered to life as each woman joined the call—small tiles of faces, some familiar, some newer, all scattered across Texas. Rina Matsui and Sasha McCin sat side by side in the converted barn, their surroundings carefully arranged to appear neutral and unprovocative. No sign of 6C influence was visible on camera.

  The meeting was smaller than usual. Noticeably absent were several representatives from the rural districts—communities where, over the past few weeks, 6C influence had rapidly expanded. Sasha and Rina knew why, of course, but neither said it aloud. The rest of the feminist leaders on the call assumed the dropouts were due to tech issues or local instability.

  Rina opened the floor with her usual calm demeanor. “Thank you all for coming, despite the spotty communication in some parts of the state. We understand the challenges many of you are facing, especially with the rise in conservative and theocratic movements encroaching on Texas’s borders.”

  Sasha added, “We want to hear your thoughts—what’s happening in your areas? What’s working, what’s failing, and what are you seeing on the ground?”

  A middle-aged woman with streaks of gray in her ponytail, Car Ramos from El Paso, spoke up first. “We’re holding strong out west. The cultural resistance to outside religious influence is high, but resources are low. We’re hearing whispers of new infrastructure coming to the east, but no one seems to know who’s behind it.”

  Another voice joined in—Yvette Tran, a sharp-tongued organizer from Austin in her early thirties. “People are calling it 'benevolent authoritarianism'—new clinics, new schools, better water supply. But they come with subtle shifts in ideology. Patriarchal ones. Nothing explicitly violent… just unsettling.”

  Rina nodded slowly. “That’s concerning. We’ve been tracking the shifts too, though it’s not always clear who’s pulling the strings. We need to be strategic, especially with messaging. If we come off too oppositional, we risk alienating women who actually benefit from some of these changes.”

  A beat passed.

  Sasha leaned in, choosing her words carefully. “We’ve seen in some rural communities that women are, ironically, feeling safer under new structures. But we need to distinguish between order and freedom. That’s our job—to keep asking those questions.”

  Naomi Greene, a blunt 40-something from Denton County, squinted. “You’re both being awfully careful with your nguage. You know something we don’t?”

  Rina smiled faintly. “We’re being cautious. That’s all. We don’t want to jump to conclusions before we have all the data. But what matters now is how we empower women to lead in whatever system is emerging.”

  There were nods, but also furrowed brows.

  Sasha could feel it—the tension between old loyalty and new reality. She kept her voice warm. “Let’s focus our next project on documenting women’s lived experiences in these changing communities—urban, suburban, and rural. Anonymous interviews. Quiet observation. No conclusions yet.”

  It was a clever deflection, and the group bought it—for now.

  As the meeting moved on to logistics and minor initiatives, Sasha and Rina exchanged a gnce, unspoken agreement passing between them. The transformation of Texas was accelerating. Their alliance with 6C was invisible, yet its shadow loomed rge.

  They couldn’t reveal their hand. Not yet. Not while so many eyes were still clinging to an old world that was already slipping away.

  Rina Matsui and Sasha McCin pushed open the frosted gss double doors, stepping into the modest lobby of the Civic Bance Institute. The summer light outside gave way to the calm, filtered interior glow of pendant mps and wide factory-style windows.

  Immediately, they were greeted by a young staffer—maybe 22, wearing a cotton tee with the CBI logo and earbuds dangling from her colr. “Welcome to Civic Bance. You must be with the noon appointment?”

  From the entryway, Rina and Sasha could see almost the entirety of the small, open-pn office—enough desks for about ten people, sectioned off with low partitions. The far wall was covered in a massive dry-erase calendar streaked with colored lines, deadlines, and county names. Near the center, a small ring of cushioned chairs formed the “conversation pod”, already prepped with a pitcher of water and notepads.

  It was quiet, but not sterile. The hum of a printer and soft typing in the distance. Pnts along the windowsills. A few murmured conversations behind screens. A subtle smell of lemon oil and brewed tea hung in the air.

  Rina, checking her phone, quickly typed a message:

  Rina Matsui (12:02 PM):

  We have arrived.

  Morgan Yates, seated in her corner office upstairs, caught the preview notification. Her brow furrowed slightly—Rina Matsui and Sasha McCin… interesting pair to show up together. She knew both women from academic circles and feminist coalitions, though Rina had recently gone quiet, and Sasha had been sending conflicting signals over the past month.

  Morgan didn't know their alignment with 6C—only rumors, flickers of suspicion. She tapped back a neutral reply:

  Morgan Yates (12:03 PM):

  Great, be down in 2.

  Then she closed her ptop slowly, lips tightening. Let’s see what they’re really here for.

  Rina and Sasha followed the staffer toward the conversation pod, exchanging gnces as they sat in the soft-cushioned chairs. Morgan Yates emerged moments ter from the spiral stairs, wearing a loose bck bzer over jeans, her dark curls pinned back in a bun. She greeted them with a polite but professional smile, eyes sharp with curiosity.

  “Gd you made it,” she said. “Wasn’t expecting both of you.”

  “We thought it was time,” Sasha replied vaguely. Rina smiled with practiced warmth.

  After a few minutes of small talk, Rina leaned in, voice casual. “So, Morgan—what’s been keeping you busy tely? You still taking freence clients or working on something more independent?”

  Morgan leaned back in her chair. “No clients right now. Honestly, I prefer it that way. We’ve been focusing purely on policy research the past several months.”

  “Any particur area?” Sasha asked, her tone gentle but probing.

  Morgan raised an eyebrow slightly, watching them for a beat before answering.

  “The 6C states.”

  “Ah,” Rina nodded slowly, feigning mild surprise. “Interesting. That’s a broad swath.”

  Morgan stood and crossed to a side cabinet, grabbing a paper folder with several charts visible through the transparent sleeve. She spread them lightly on the round table.

  “At the uppermost, Wisconsin and Iowa have been holding surprisingly firm. Westernmost: Missouri, Arkansas, and Louisiana. The whole belt from Michigan down through Mississippi, Abama, and Florida—solid 6C territory now. And eastward, it reaches as far as Ohio, West Virginia, and Marynd. Everything beyond that—Deware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and the Northeast—isn’t under 6C influence. Not directly.”

  Rina’s eyes scanned the map silently. Sasha nodded along, arms crossed thoughtfully.

  “So... no party's backing this research?” Rina asked. “Not even a PAC or think tank?”

  “None,” Morgan said firmly. “We want to understand this from the ground up. Not just politics—cultural shifts, education patterns, gender dynamics. Especially in regions that flipped quickly or quietly.”

  She paused, then added, “To be honest, I suspect they’ve been smarter about grassroots influence than most people are willing to admit.”

  Neither Rina nor Sasha responded immediately. Rina’s smile was serene. Sasha's brow furrowed slightly, but not in disagreement.

  Morgan, watching their expressions, felt her unease return—They're listening closely. Too closely.