BOOK TWO: POST-GRANT PROCEEDINGS

Chapter Four: The Petition

The full IPR petition arrived via courier at 3:47 AM Friday morning.

Not email. Not regular mail. A physical courier who knocked on Athelia's door in the middle of the night and handed her a sealed envelope embossed with The Lunar Council's insignia—seven silver circles arranged around a central star.

"Official notice," the courier said. Disappeared before she could ask questions.

Athelia stood in the doorway holding the envelope. The bond was still completely silent. Alex was behind the barrier. Unreachable.

She opened the envelope.

Athelia read it three times.

35 U.S.C. § 311(a) — Any person who is not the owner of a patent may file petition for inter partes review.

The legal arguments were perfect. Airtight. They'd cited actual prior art—ancient texts that predated her bond with Alex by centuries. They'd shown anticipation under § 102. They'd proven obviousness under § 103 with clear motivation to combine.

And they'd noted—coldly, clinically—that Alex had withdrawn from defending the patent. That she stood alone.

35 U.S.C. § 316(e) — In IPR proceedings, petitioner must prove unpatentability by preponderance of evidence (more likely than not).

She sat on the couch. The bond was still silent. Alex was gone.

Three months to respond. Ninety days. If she didn't file a preliminary response, the patent would be canceled by default. The bond would be officially invalidated. Everything they'd built during examination would cease to exist legally.

Her phone buzzed. Casey, from her room:

Was that a knock? You okay?

Athelia didn't answer. She opened her laptop. Pulled up the MPEP. Started searching.

MPEP § 2258: Scope of Appeal

MPEP § 2659: Petitioner's Preliminary Response

Wait. Wrong section. That was for the petitioner. She needed the patent owner's response.

MPEP § 2660: Patent Owner Preliminary Response

37 CFR § 42.107(a) — Patent Owner may file preliminary response to IPR petition within 3 months of service. Response may argue why IPR should not be instituted.

She started taking notes. Frantic. Desperate.

PATENT OWNER PRELIMINARY RESPONSE — STRATEGY NOTES Option 1: Challenge Institution - Argue petitioner hasn't met threshold for instituting IPR - Must show petitioner's evidence is insufficient - Standard: "reasonable likelihood that petitioner would prevail" (35 U.S.C. § 314(a)) - Problem: Their prior art is solid. References are real. Claims charts are accurate. Option 2: Distinguish Prior Art - Show claimed invention produces unexpected results not taught by prior art - Argue specific combination of guardian + sovereign + cross-jurisdictional authority is novel - Cite secondary considerations: commercial success, long-felt need, failure of others - Problem: What unexpected results? What evidence do I have? Option 3: Argue No Motivation to Combine - Challenge petitioner's assertion that PHOSITA would combine references - Show references teach away from claimed combination - Argue hindsight reconstruction - Problem: Reference C explicitly says to combine guardian protocols with bonding procedures Option 4: Amendment Under 37 CFR § 42.121 - Propose amended claims that avoid prior art - Narrow scope to specific circumstances of THIS bond - Add limitations distinguishing from prior art - Problem: Can't amend unilaterally — need both patent owners. Alex is gone. CRITICAL ISSUE: I am only ONE of two patent owners. Can I respond without Alex?

She searched the MPEP frantically. Found it:

37 CFR § 42.8(b) — When patent has multiple owners, ANY owner may file preliminary response on behalf of all owners unless otherwise specified.

She could respond. Alone. Without Alex's cooperation.

But should she?

The bond was silent. He'd left. Crossed the barrier. The Council—HIS Council—had filed this petition. Maybe to protect him. Maybe because they genuinely believed the bond was invalid.

Maybe he'd ASKED them to file it.

Her phone rang. Not Casey. Unknown number.

She answered. "Hello?"

"Ms. Winters." Professor Mendez's voice. "I assume you received the petition."

"How did you—"

"I'm copied on all USPTO Supernatural Patents Division filings related to my students. That's why I was teaching this unit." He paused. "I've been documenting."

"Documenting what?"

"The challenge. Wavelander and Severen's systematic attack on your bond. Hartwood's failure to defend. Your preliminary response will need evidence of unexpected results—proof that your specific bond produces something unique that prior art doesn't teach."

MPEP § 2143(E) — Secondary considerations of non-obviousness include: unexpected results, commercial success, long-felt need, failure of others to achieve claimed invention.

"I don't have evidence," Athelia said quietly. "I have a mate bond that's been under attack for three weeks and a co-patent-owner who abandoned it."

"That's not quite accurate." Mendez's voice was careful. "Hartwood didn't abandon the bond. He lost control publicly after watching another male claim his mate. That's not abandonment—that's failure to defend under extreme provocation. There's a distinction."

"What distinction?"

"Abandonment is voluntary relinquishment. What Hartwood did was... strategic retreat under hostile conditions. If you can prove the bond was under deliberate attack—that the challenges weren't natural competition but coordinated assault—you have grounds for arguing that failure to defend doesn't equal acceptance of invalidity."

Athelia's mind raced. "You documented Wavelander and Severen's behavior."

"Every lecture. Every interaction. Every deliberate boundary violation. I have video evidence of Wavelander kissing you without consent in front of sixty witnesses. I have Discord logs showing students tracking the challenge as entertainment. I have proof that this was coordinated territorial aggression, not legitimate patent challenge."

"Why?" Athelia asked. "Why document all of this?"

"Because," Mendez said, "the USPTO Supernatural Patents Division exists precisely to handle cases where Old Law and human law intersect. And this case—your case—is exactly the kind of conflict that requires documentation and analysis at the highest level."

He paused.

"I've forwarded my documentation to Director Katherine Vidal. She'll be contacting you directly. In the meantime, start drafting your preliminary response. You have three months, but I suggest you file within thirty days to show active defense."

"Professor Mendez—"

"You asked me once why I focus so heavily on jurisdictional issues in patent law. This is why. Because Old Law and human law are going to collide more frequently. And when they do, we need people who understand both systems." His voice softened slightly. "You understand both systems now, Ms. Winters. That makes you uniquely qualified to defend this bond."

The line went dead.

Athelia sat holding her phone. The IPR petition lay on the coffee table. The MPEP was open on her laptop.

The bond was still silent. Alex was still gone.

But she had three months to respond. Three months to build a defense. Three months to prove that her bond—their bond—wasn't just some obvious combination of prior art. That it was unique. Novel. Worth defending.

Even if she had to defend it alone.


USPTO HEADQUARTERS — ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA
FRIDAY, 8:47 AM EST

Director Katherine Vidal sat in her corner office reviewing Professor Mendez's documentation package. Twelve video files. Forty pages of written analysis. Discord logs. Student testimony.

And the IPR petition from The Lunar Council, which had arrived in her inbox at 4:00 AM with a flag marked URGENT — JURISDICTIONAL CRISIS.

She pulled up the patent file. Patent No. SH-2024-001. Granted three weeks ago after a grueling examination process. Guardian Queen examination. Cross-jurisdictional mate bond.

Now challenged by the sovereign's own Council.

She picked up her phone. Dialed.

"Mendez. It's Director Vidal. I received your package."

"Director." Mendez's voice was steady. "You've seen the petition?"

"I have. The Council's arguments are legally sound. Prior art is legitimate. Motivation to combine is explicit. Under normal circumstances, I'd institute review immediately."

"But?"

"But your documentation raises questions about whether this challenge is legitimate patent review or coordinated territorial attack designed to force abandonment." She pulled up one of the videos. Wavelander kissing Athelia at the board. Hartwood's loss of control. "If the bond was deliberately sabotaged by third parties acting in coordination, that's not a validity challenge—that's interference."

35 U.S.C. § 135 — Interference proceedings determine priority between competing inventors claiming same invention. (Note: Largely obsolete post-AIA, but supernatural patents still use pre-AIA rules.)

"You're thinking this is an interference?" Mendez asked.

"I'm thinking this is unprecedented. We have a granted patent. A legitimate IPR petition from the sovereign's own Council. Evidence of third-party interference. And two patent owners who aren't communicating across a jurisdictional barrier." Director Vidal leaned back in her chair. "This needs to be handled at the Director level. Not PTAB. Not administrative judges. Me."

"What are you proposing?"

"A Director's Review under my authority pursuant to 35 U.S.C. § 3(a)(2)(A). I'm pulling this case. I want all parties in my office—Winters, Hartwood, the Council's representatives, Wavelander, and Severen. We're going to have a hearing. On the record. And we're going to determine whether this bond is invalid due to prior art or whether it's being invalidated through coordinated attack."

35 U.S.C. § 3(a)(2)(A) — Director has authority to "establish regulations for conduct of proceedings in the Office."

"Hartwood won't come," Mendez said. "He's behind the barrier. Unreachable."

"Then I'll go to him." Director Vidal's voice was steel. "I have authority over supernatural patents. That means I have authority to cross jurisdictional barriers when patent validity is at stake. If The Lunar Council wants to challenge this patent, they can damn well explain their challenge to me in person."

Silence on the line.

"Director, are you saying you're going to the Shallows?"

"I'm saying I'm invoking my authority under the Patent Act to convene a hearing in whatever jurisdiction is necessary to ensure both patent owners can be present. If that means the Shallows, then yes." She pulled up her calendar. "I'm scheduling the hearing for three weeks from today. November 28th. Location to be determined based on where Hartwood is willing to appear."

"And if he refuses?"

"Then I issue a Director's Order compelling his appearance under penalty of forfeiture. He's a named patent owner. He doesn't get to abandon the patent without formally surrendering his rights—and that requires an appearance before me to confirm voluntary relinquishment."

She started typing an email.

"Mendez, I'm cc'ing you on the official notice. You'll be attending as witness and expert on the deliberate interference question. Bring all documentation."

"Understood."

"And Mendez? Make sure Ms. Winters understands something very clearly."

"What's that?"

"This hearing isn't just about patent validity. It's about whether the USPTO will allow coordinated territorial attacks to substitute for legitimate patent challenges. If I determine this petition is the result of deliberate interference designed to force abandonment, I have authority to sanction the interfering parties and dismiss the petition entirely."

37 CFR § 42.11(d) — Board may impose sanctions for abuse of process, including termination of proceeding.

"You'd dismiss the Council's petition?"

"If it's based on manufactured abandonment rather than legitimate prior art invalidity? Absolutely. The Patent Office doesn't exist to facilitate territorial warfare disguised as validity challenges."

She hit send on the email. Official notice. All parties. Three weeks.

"One more thing, Mendez."

"Yes?"

"Tell Ms. Winters to start preparing her defense now. Not in three months. Now. Because when we convene this hearing, I expect her to demonstrate that this bond is worth defending—not just with legal arguments, but with evidence that she and Hartwood actually want this patent to survive."

"Even if Hartwood won't communicate with her?"

"Then she needs to find a way to make him communicate. Or prove the bond has value independent of his active participation. Either way—she has three weeks to figure it out."

Director Vidal ended the call.

Looked at the IPR petition. At Mendez's documentation. At the patent file for SH-2024-001.

This case was going to set precedent. One way or another.

Either the USPTO would establish that supernatural bonds could be challenged through legitimate prior art analysis, just like any other patent.

Or the USPTO would establish that coordinated territorial attacks on supernatural patents would not be tolerated—no matter how legally sophisticated the challenge appeared.

She pulled out her phone. Started drafting a formal summons to The Lunar Council.

Time to see if Old Law respected USPTO jurisdiction enough to show up when summoned.

— END CHAPTER FOUR —

[Continue to Chapter 5 - The Summons]