“All the community may scream because one man is born who will not do as it does, who will not conform because conformity to him is death—he is so constituted. They know nothing about his case, they are fools when they presume to advise him. The man of genius knows what he is aiming at; nobody else knows. And he alone knows when something comes between him and his object. In the course of generations, however, men will excuse you for not doing as they do, if you will bring enough to pass in your own way.”

—Thoreau

Paradise shone before him. The entire city stood encased in a geodesic dome, which simultaneously protected the city, regulated temperature, air quality and weather, and also acted as a backup energy conductor should the central magnetic power system fail.

He had designed the power system himself. Based on simple principles of magnetism, the subtle design operated with a greater energy efficiency than any system previously known. The machinery not only supplied power to the regular city grid, but also to the transportation system—with no toxic fuels, no senseless accidents, no annoying delays. It was the most effective urban transportation design he had ever seen.

Most of the buildings were geodesic in nature in some way. Many used bamboo, or spruce, or rock in the frames, taken freely from nature and assembled into structures that had all the strength of steel, but a fraction of the weight.

The fresh air flow was monitored by atmospheric processors which utilized the latest information in molecular fractional distillation techniques. Even some mainstream scientists were getting close to the point where they could grasp the applications he had made. The system worked in such a way that centrally situated processors sampled the air and automatically made corrections when sensors triggered negative feedback. Ozone generators, equivalent or better to those designed by Tesla, maintained a 46% oxygen content to the city atmosphere, in which all life thrived. The air had a purity unknown on earth for centuries.

The crystal clear water flow, channelled through pipes of spiral design, was as easily purified. All water was routed into a central processing plant for recycling. It was taken through a sand filter, then a water vortex, then magnetized, ozonated and given a perfect 109.5 degree bond angle in such a way that would have made Schauberger weep with joy.

The same plant received all of the garbage the citizenry could produce. All material was analyzed, then redesigned at the molecular level. All waste forms could be reassembled into nutritious foods, construction beams, or magnificent sculptures, as desired.

A rich soil quality was equally assured. The soils were teeming with colloidal minerals and the most diverse array of friendly probiotic bacteria the world had ever seen. Since nothing was exported and everything recycled, there could be no depletion of resources of any kind. All the techniques for enhanced food production were embraced here: double digging; complementary planting; microclimate controls—there was an abundant cornucopia of health promoting food representing the best on the globe.

The human residents in the outer rim had attained zero population growth, and the bell curve which had characterized human civilizations for all previous time had been irrevocably destroyed. No longer were there a few dull, fat, ugly humans at one of a spectrum with a majority of average people in the middle and a fraction of smart, fit, and beautiful people at the other end, but the whole population stood at the positive end.

The myth that beauty and health were distinct had been permanently shattered: healthy people were always, inevitably, beautiful, the unhealthy ugly—all depended on effort and knowledge.

Aging, disease and poverty were gone.

The language of the citizens was the easiest of all world languages to learn, being based on the ideas of Melville Bell as presented in his theory of visible speech. In addition to being the easiest to learn, the language was also the most accurate of all tongues, for it was the first language to have at its root the insight of Fuller that all is ultimately reducible to extent and angle. This was a language of which Pythagoras would have approved, for many of its words were based on the most precise theory of cosmic design as number yet proposed.

The theory enabled the rearrangement of matter into any desirable form permitted by the laws of physics. The originator of the theory, who now admired his own handiwork, had discovered the theory in high school, while doodling in the margins of a crucial exam, which he had barely passed. Since then, he had wandered into a forsaken realm of the intellect, following the evidence wherever it led him.

He had resolved to himself that he would follow the trail through hell itself, if need be, for he pursued the path not so much because it fascinated him, though it did, but because he had to prove, to the one he loved above all others, that most men had always missed the essential underlying beauty of existence. More than anything, he wanted to live one moment in the arms of his true love after she had looked at the world and seen what he had seen, so he could finally watch her reclaim the magic she had lost as a child.

For love, he had devoted every fiber of his existence to proving the ecstasy of reality.

For his ardor, he had been returned a lifetime of rejection. It took him years to understand all the indifference, mockery and resistance he had so interminably faced, until he finally gained an insight: Those who conform to the authority of their peers and make only a few minor modifications at the frontiers of understanding will usually be well received, but those who completely replace existing frameworks in favor of fundamentally original designs will always be met with persecution.

Thus the language of Melville Bell, so potent that foreign phrases transcribed into the Bell language could be read flawlessly without accents in minutes by beginners, was tossed to the dusty shelves of history. Thus did analysts decide, after intensive scrutiny, that Schauberger’s physics views were correct, but refused to implement even the slightest changes to their textbooks, for they would have all needed to be rewritten from scratch. Thus Feynman, one of the most brilliant geniuses of the century, was deemed worthy and acceptable, while Fuller, whose work in geometry had enabled a gymnast to find the most powerful theory of energy ever, had been scoffed at in rebuke, and remained so to this day.

Yet it was Fuller who had shown the way to paradise, not Feynman. The majority was obstructive.

Thoreau had written that in the long run, men hit only what they aim at. Others had aimed to make little modifications at the fringes, and they had often succeeded.

The city designer had aimed for paradise, and he had built it.

No one he had ever met had believed paradise like this was possible. Like Thoreau, he had once felt the world he was made for was not here, and had no intention of being shipwrecked on a vain reality. He had defiantly dreamed of an ideal world, and sought only the advice of worthwhile mentors as to how to attain it.

Thoreau believed to realize the ideal world, you should reform the individual, while Fuller believed you should reform the environment.

The city designer had done both, and the way he had done it was now carved over the gateway to the city:

COMPREHEND AND IMITATE NATURE

Yet in the central city core, open to only the healthiest of souls, he lived alone, without a companion.

Long ago, he had tried to reach out to his fellow men for years with his vision, but always they asked why they needed to understand math, physics, art, exercise, technology, language, puzzles, music and more in order to realize the design. Growing was always a tedious chore, and never a thrilling adventure, right? So why bother?

By way of reply, Thomas Jefferson had said, “If a nation expects to be ignorant and free, it expects what never was ... and never will be.”

The city designer knew knowledge was essential to build a better world; yet he also believed growth could be fun, and he wished he could find a companion who appreciated that.

Somewhere out there, his ideal mate awaited to share this paradise with him—he could feel it.

He had made paradise as simple, efficient, and independent as possible, and now let out a heavy breath staring at its splendor.

Yes, he thought, a little striving was involved in building the ultimate world—but it always takes less effort to build paradise than to deny that you wish to live in it.

Taking one last look from the tremendous height of an amethyst crystal balcony, he breathed the air of the fully free.

Paradise was waiting, if any wished to find it.