"Sure, if your dog is available I see no reason you can't have her here."

"I don't know if she is or not."

"I cannot resurrect dogs, at least not at this time."

"How would I find out?  Just going back upstairs?  If the Antarctic port takes a while to build she might well die in the meantime.  Or if it's a trip from the port to where she is."

"I do mean to get Internet access down here but I think the Internet isn't yet popular enough upstairs to make that a definite way to find out. Maybe one of Felicity can help you track down your dog as long as there is only one person who needs a dog tracked down, most of her are up there."

"I'll certainly give it a go - maybe I can get details from you while we're waiting for the next batch of people to arrive?"

"Sure."  He dips his head.

And unless there's anything else to mop up here, next batch!

The rest of the bystanders head off in various directions while Felicity determines that the dog, if alive, is probably somewhere in the middle of Roman Vespuricca (which is apparently what the locals call America), in a place Cam might naively label as being in or around one of the Dakotas.

Well, hopefully the likely custodians of the dog have a phone number and can be told to feed it for another couple days till the port is fully operational.

Batch batch batch and out goes the shuttle full of basement dwellers in wheelchairs with electric blankets!

Felicity assures the man that she'll call relevant shelters in the morning.

Group three all died elderly and want to be young again!  One of them also wants to be supermodel-pretty without care for preserving any individual features.  A few of them want to be teenagers, but only if that's possible without the sucky parts?  Some would like to be teenagers regardless.  Several would like to be generically more attractive and/or physically fit.  One wants his hair to grow in curly.

These are all doable, though Cam might need a referral to local supermodel fashions so he doesn't instantiate this person with last week's eyebrows.

"I think with this batch I'll just tell them while they're still stars what their options are once they get here.  Lying down in the receiving rooms, exploring or hanging out in the city itself possibly including picking out a home, hanging around to ask us questions - anything else worth mentioning?

"Putting in requests for phone calls to make upstairs, I suppose!"

"Maybe requests in general?  So far between you and all of me we just have one phone that works on local networks, and I don't imagine you get signal down here, so that probably has to wait for a trip up although I could walk to Jordan's and likely use theirs if necessary."

"Yeah, you'll have some triage to do."

"Quite.  Should bringing more of me down here possibly get moved a bit up the priority list, for dealing with various local concerns?"

"Maybe, yeah. Especially if the laws of nature don't notice resurrection is a thing sooner than later. I don't think I should try to pilot remotely from this far away, though, the repeaters would be doing a lot of work around weird corners and they're not tested for that, so it will have to wait till I go upstairs to fetch some of you."

"I'm just wondering whether it might be smart to push that to before too many more batches, in case something or other goes wrong."

"Plausible. How long do you think I should hang out down here before I go fetch more you?"

"Maybe until after the incoming batch gets relatively settled?"

"Sounds good." He sits himself down on a bench near the edge to wait.

The next group has a similar proportion of criers but a slightly more enthusiastic set of greetings.  The one with eight feet of hair is most of the way through chain-stitching it into a slightly more manageable state; several people are poking or patting at their rearranged faces.

Do they want mirrors? He'll install some in the shuttle too as long as it's here.

Yes they do!!  A couple people who weren't crying before start once they see themselves.

...in a good way or does he need to make some emergency adjustments?