Duncan *knows* about this art, Marty thought while staring at the Eve guided by the snake instead of the God. He believes he sees her inner parts and looks away at something else more in the distance. A man eating brains out of a skull — still disturbing but less so.
Roger Pine Ridge walks into the door. Marty remembers the deal: 57. Or was it 56? Maybe it’s the last number that counts, the 7 and the 6. Throw ’em in a cup, rattle them around, see what comes out. Quantum state; Black Hole, even. He beams at Roger, knowing he has the upper hand again. Yelloo.
“Let’s go,” Roger requests, eager to get out of this place full of “artists”.
But first: “Nothing in the library about Roost or the Roost Never Sleeps attached castle.”
“Have you tried *Rust*? As in Neil Young?” Marty’s hand switches from upper to lower and Roger is in charge. “Let’s go,” he says again, not taking no for an answer. “NOW”.
“‘Kay,” is all Marty could weakly manage in acquiescing.