He didn’t think he could comprehend anything beyond this, but even as he thought that, Cyprus’ reality opened up and he sensed even more magnificence of which she herself was but a part. Yet in all of this, his identity rode securely, jubilantly, safely—boldly and exuberantly. He felt as if he was the youngest being in the universe, and that he was being shown the model for his own future growth.

“But there’s more,” Cyprus said. “Watch closely.” And for a moment, everything vanished except for a small earthen hut on a hillside that suddenly sprang out of nowhere. Almost instantly, on the same spot, a million other buildings seemed to be transposed over the hut, and its environment steadily expanded. Seven counted at least a hundred cities, each one beginning from the hut or springing out of it; and then, from each sparkling building he saw, another new structure sprang into being. There were too many styles and cultures to count. He saw Byzantine palaces and their boulevards; the twenty-fifth-century floating cities, splendid European and Indian castles, temples, and Medieval villages as well as Arabian bazaars. And in each case, these separate civilizations remained themselves, while in each of them, all of the others were somehow implied.

“The models for every possible civilization exist here,” Cyprus said. “And each possible eccentric variation is given freedom.”

“The Codicils,” Seven shouted. “They have to be models for civilization—”

Smiling, Cyprus answered, “Exactly.”

“Well, then, I’ve got to find them,” Seven cried. “And at once.”

“Shush,” Cyprus said. “I’ll make this easy for you by cutting out anything that doesn’t apply to the problem. Look.”

And Seven saw George the First in his attic study, trying another “out-of-body.” The picture was clear and detailed, fully sensed, so that Seven even smelled the lilacs out in George’s back yard.

George was out-of-body. He kept muttering, “I’ve got to find the Codicils, whatever they are, before it’s too late.” His dream body wore a mental version of his favorite red dressing gown. He half-walked and half-floated down the hallway, thinking, “I’ve got to get to the future where I saw the museum.”

And as George thought that, Seven held his breath in surprise (figuratively speaking), because George disappeared from the 1890s picture and suddenly appeared in an adjacent twenty-fifth-century one. There he stood in front of the museum.

“I admit I’m startled,” Seven said. “But from here, it’s so easy to see how it’s done. I didn’t have to worry about juggling time, or going through space atom by atom so to speak; you just … state your intent—”

“And in Framework Two, you can move through any time period that exists in Framework One, which is all the earthly dimensions,” Cyprus added.

George shook his dream head with happy puzzlement. “Now how did I do that?” he wondered. “And—zounds—what do I do next?”