George shrugged and said, “Lead on: Nothing would surprise me now.” Josephine picked up her purse. Diggs took Window’s arm protectively, and, though he was still trying to look unperturbed, Oversoul Seven was almost beside himself with worry. If they didn’t find the Codicils in time, this world of Josephine’s, George’s, Gregory’s and Window’s might not exist at all—or it might turn into another probability, or lead to a future probable world in which the earth lay in ruins and Monarch himself did not exist.

Window walked along docilely enough. But would he be strong enough, Seven wondered, to do what must be done?

All of Seven’s sense of urgency couldn’t keep the group together much longer, though. Josephine Blithe insisted they rest for a while. She went home in a taxi.

George took everyone else to his place. He went to his bedroom purposefully. Oversoul Seven fidgeted and waited while Diggs and Window drank coffee in the kitchen. So everything was quiet. But not for long.

Chapter Thirteen

A Complicated Out-of-Body Experience and a Full House

While George Brainbridge the Third slept and Seven talked to Window and Diggs in the twentieth-century kitchen, George Brainbridge the First sat in his red silk dressing gown on the side of his cot, looking out the attic window at the carriage house and drive and lawn below. His mind felt deliciously clear and unruffled—as still, he thought, as the June night sky whose moonlight illuminated the scene outside his window with such delicate artistry. He was trying to get out of his body.

It’s 1892, he told himself. And no matter how definite and authoritative that date sounded to him, no matter how perfectly his sense data confirmed it, he had to try to realize that other times—other years, seasons, and even centuries, somehow coincided in this moment. He had learned that much. And, he reminded himself, no matter that his wife and son would be home in a short week from Europe, he had to understand that the remaining time could be as “lengthy” as he wanted, despite the fact that when they returned, his experiments would be drastically reduced—if not entirely curtailed.

The thought reminded him of the distractions he had to avoid; he had to keep a clear, open mental focus. “Forget everything but this present moment as you experience it,” he told himself. He stared gently, gently, out the window. He watched the white lace curtain move softly in the night June air. He watched the moonlight blink and tremble on the back hitching post … and on the dark leaves of the lilac bushes, and …