The quality which identifies the greatest of sportsmen, from Ali to Federer, is their ability to seemingly operate in time and space of their own invention. In the modern maelstrom of international rugby, Dan Carter can still float and then still sting, as if in an unhurried world of his own. So it was that Scotland, for all their splendid spirit and commitment, were suspended and speared in Carter time here. It was not just the metronomic accuracy with the boot, nor the exquisite timing of his passing that reminded Murrayfield why he remains the 21st century game’s nigh-perfect 10.
More than that, it was the feeling that Carter was controlling every facet of New Zealand's matchless game behind the scrum like some master puppeteer, just as when Xavi is conducting Barcelona’s orchestra at the Nou Camp.
But even Barcelona can misfire on occasion as the whole of Scotland discovered earlier in the week. The idea that their rugby men, for all their spirit, could follow Celtic’s wholly improbable midweek lead was dead in the water once Carter decided it was time for him to remind everyone that rugby life could be beginning again for him at 30. Perhaps the worst thing that could have happened to Scotland on this hugely enjoyable afternoon was for him to malfunction with the pass that offered the hosts an interception gift for the early lead.
After just missing the last-second dropped goal attempt that caused the All Blacks to lose their chance to keep their 16-game winning streak going against the Australians in Brisbane last month, could he have been mislaying his Midas touch?
The response was one befitting a champion. Within minutes, not in the slightest cowed and still dancing and daring on that high line, he was purring into attack again with devastating effect, a step inside floundering hands enabling him to make 30 yards at a stroke and then, within two phases, making Geoff Cross and Ross Ford look like hippos vainly trying to snag an eel before putting Israel Dagg away.
From there, welcome to the gliding master class. Twenty-one points, nine successful kicks out of 10, 12 carries, 79 metres made, six defenders beaten. Except, like all sport’s great artists, the fun was not in the bare statistics, however impressive; it was all just in seeing a master at work.
A perfectionist, too. Even with the game long wrapped up, you could see him muttering to himself in irritation when his poor pass meant he failed to unleash Julian Savea for his fourth direct try assist of the afternoon.
Andy Robinson, the defeated coach, could only bemoan the fact that if you give a once-in-a-generation playmaker the time and space to work his wiles, especially with the breadth of talent outside him, you are lost. “He’s a fantastic player. It’s the quality of getting to a rhythm; he sucks you in. Pass, pass, pass - and then next time he goes,” sighed Robinson.
Richie McCaw, Carter’s equally splendid partner in New Zealand’s ‘Old Firm’, could only enthuse, “It’s great to see him playing like that”.
Between them, whether through goalkicking or piracy, they extinguished the fires that the Scots, inspired by Richie Gray’s magnificent drive, often promised.
When Carter and McCaw join forces, the win percentage for the All Blacks is even higher than normal, more than 90 per cent. This was the 81st time the pair have played on the same New Zealand side and they have known defeat together only seven times. Having both on board simultaneously, especially with new stars being blooded, represents the ultimate comfort blanket.
McCaw was, as ever, a tireless pirate, confounding the referee and infuriated Scottish pundits alike, but it was noticeable how his best scrambling work was delivered when his men were most in need, under the cosh soon after the break.
To the end, the dynamic duo were still delivering, McCaw first winning the ball on the floor from a line-out to set up a princely dummy and off-load for Ben Smith to dance over for the last try.
The sight reminded you there was perhaps just one thing missing in the All Blacks’ World Cup triumph on home soil last year. Somehow, if Carter, sadly injured throughout, had been there to join McCaw on the victory podium, it would have felt just right.
Yet he still has time. Each time, he and McCaw, now 31, turn up for these November internationals here, you keep wondering if it might be the last time we have the pleasure - and pain - to witness their greatness.
But both are threatening to hang around until 2015 to try to spearhead New Zealand’s attempt to become the first nation ever to successfully defend the Webb Ellis Cup back here in Britain. A talent of Carter’s magnitude, you cannot help thinking, still demands the ultimate reward