“That utterly ridiculous scroll! They are calling it ‘The Prophecy of Science’,” Gammercy slurred with disdain. Berzer read aloud from the latest translation: “The Engineer will father flight, but remain earthbound in a sea of paint. What rubbish!” “Da Vinci,” Hawking said quietly. “Da Vinci designed the first flying machine, but it remained only a drawing for hundreds of years.” Gammercy squinted as if it would help him to think, and Berzer started again, haltingly. “The Alchemist will create a coil beyond this mortal one, yet travel no further than death.” “Tesla,” Hawking said. The name resonated in the suddenly silent room as if it could summon the ghost of the man himself. “Go on,” Hawking urged him. “Finish it.” Berzer dropped his scotch on the carpet but stuttered on without noticing. “The Astronomer will give them a map of the stars, but … but …”. “But ride only his wheel of time,” Hawking whispered, “his earthly body broken.” He moved his power chair forward and back, forward and back, then laughed. Hawking nodded to his nurse to close the doors. “Gentlemen, I need you to sit down,” he said, turning slowly to face them.