At 1 a.m., with Dr. Charlese bubbling over with speculation on the potential of the human mind, Chiun, Remo and Charlese walked fifteen flights up a back stairway to the roof. Below them Mexico City, once a city built on a swamp and now a modern city built on the rubble of ancient cities, twinkled brightly. The air was dusty hot, even at night, and the roof above the playroof gave no relief. The air covered them like a pressure cooker lid. Charlese's fancy clothes were darkened with perspiration. The front of his shirt looked as if someone had thrown a bucket of water at his navel.

"Do you believe?" asked Chiun.

"I believe," said Dr. Charlese.

"Do your breathing thing and then I shall show you a miracle," said Chiun.

Charlese closed his eyes and breathed deeply three times.

"I'm ready," he said.

"Your body is air," Chiun said softly in a dull monotone. "You float like a balloon. You are on a path. Solid. Walk. You feel a little wall in the middle of the path."

Charlese touched the small rail separating him from the sidewalks of Mexico City, one foot forward, thirty stories down.

"Climb over the small wall and rest your feet on the step beneath it. They are wide steps but you will use only a small part of them. You are secure. You are on wide steps. You are safe," said Chiun.

Charlese lowered his feet over the wall while the trunk of his body rested on the ledge.

"Yep, I feel the steps," said Charlese. "Hot dayum. It's working!"

Remo knew that what Charlese felt were the crevices between bricks. People could use the tips of the bricks for short climbing, but most people lacked the balance for anything more than a momentary step.