He’d really outdone himself. The glowing letters covered the sky from horizon to horizon. On second thought, Seven gave the letters shadows that now covered the tiled floor of Proteus’ twenty-third-century courtyard so that the tiles and grass were full of contrast and brilliance. “How do you like that?” he cried triumphantly. “Now that’s a landscape and skyscape no one is apt to forget—”

“Breathtaking,” Cyprus said. “Would you mind giving me your interpretation of the letters?”

“Can anyone else see it?” Seven asked. “It’s a pity to create something so spectacular, and have it more or less go to waste.”

“Seven,” Cyprus said, with at least a touch of severity.

“All right. I made an analogy so I could understand, and I made up my own formula to express it. All time is simultaneous. There isn’t any contradiction, thank heaven. But while we’re at all attached to ideas of time or people who believe in them, then certain contradictions appear to exist. Actually, they’re not there. They’re only the result of limited perception. So I made up this formula to explain the contradiction that isn’t there—”

“Must you be so wordy?”

“All right. It’s as though there are three kinds of time, perception-wise: Past Time, Present Time, and Future Time. Look—” As he spoke, Seven demonstrated, and in the sky above the letters, three boxes appeared, like this:

“Excellent,” Cyprus said, concealing a smile. “You certainly are inventive.”

“Now listen,” Seven said, impatiently. “I put those kinds of time in big letters to show that they’re the main divisions. But there’s a past, present, and future in Past Time; and a past, present, and future in Present Time, and a past, present, and future in Future Time—”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Cyprus said.

“So the past has its own present, past, and future in small letters, like this,” Seven said. And he added the letters in the boxes in the sky, thus:

Seven was so taken with his own creation that he stared with awe at the giant boxes and the huge sparkling letters. “There’s so much I haven’t got yet,” he said. “But I’m getting it. For one thing, that middle box, marked Present Time, is particularly intriguing—”

“Seven, you’re getting very close to something very important,” Cyprus said. “Whatever happens, remember: You create your own reality. You’re apt to get lost in your own analogy. Be careful, Seven. There are implications—”

“Careful? Why? I’m fascinated,” Seven cried.

“Don’t be too impetuous!” she said.

But Seven was muttering: “That middle box. Lydia’s Present Time is in it, with it’s own present, past, and future. But so is Proteus’, isn’t it? And Josef’s and Ma-ah’s? It’s according to…. But no, Lydia certainly thinks it’s her Present Time—”