[A blueprint. Fine, detailed, with obscure notes in every corner.]

[Another. A prototype for a being that looks like a dance, frozen in motion.]

[More. Designs for bridges, tethers, foodstuffs, weather, surgical implements - the things of a society, of an existence.]

[A treatise on the concept of a self-editing consciousness and whether it is either possible or desirable]

[A book on Beauty]

[The design of the building that houses all of these and more. An annex, a haven, a workstation for 001 and a workstation for Pinnacle and more for all those who have been created, who wish to create. New life, new existence, new Things.]

[And outside, the city.]

001 sits quietly on top of the LightSpire, Zeitgeist curled up in their lap. They watch electrical charges arc lazily from the tip of the spire to the passing clouds above and back again. They admire how the aftershocks shimmer over Zeitgeist's filigree surface, causing them to twitch. Snuggling happily, they turn their attention to what lies below, around, beyond…

Art, this city is called. By art it was made, and for art it endures. The art of creating a city where there was only desert before. The art of creating its inhabitants, descendants now each creating art in turn. But, most importantly, the art of being a civilisation, or building a society, of being something more than just disparate Numbers with individual goals. What lies at 001's feet is their culminating art: the art of co-existence.

Indeed, the fact it is here at all is testament to that - 001 alone could never have created so much, never have dreamt so high. But first Pinnacle and then others joined 001 in creation, augmented one vision of beauty with others and worked together to create something that still awes even Thingmaker themselves with the sheer amount of Thing that it is.

Eventually, of course, the generations created have yielded some who do not wish to create, or who apply their creativity in unexpected or even unhelpful ways. But that is part of being a civilisation, 001 thinks. Even the worst wounds can be beautiful, sometimes. Without failure, without blind searching, how can you appreciate when you finally find the right path?

And this… this was right. For 001, at least. They long ago had to accept that few of the Numbered cared about beauty in the same way they did. But that was alright. The others cared about other things, and left 001 alone to build the future.

This city will persist. Its inhabitants, its creators, will continue onwards on this planet and in the stars. But 001's part in all this, their drive to find the Thing, finally feels… complete.

They close their eyes, hug Zeitgeist tightly, and begin to dream of beauty.