His body language changes and his voice is higher and he looks, in some bizarre way Oscar can't quite name, like a girl. "Why, of course you have, darling. Or do you need the blonde wig?"

"Ruby-- of course! Nice to meet you again?" Circumstances aside. He wasn't lying about the quean parties; he hasn't had a chance to go to one in months but they are incredibly fun.

"You as well. I don't suppose I can convince you--?"

"I'm flattered," he says. "But my mind's still elsewhere." It's awkward to feel out their interactions outside of a party. Were they at one now he'd probably lay it on thicker, but here flirtatious banter with random queans isn't a light diversion or a social convention to follow to show you're not uptight. Ruby still seems to think fucking a friendly acquaintance is a great way to solve her problems, and Oscar can't say he's never been there before, but. Terrible idea. "I'd still appreciate your help, if you're up to it-- I have a few more questions about your friend."

TEARS.

Absolutely NOTHING useful. Only TEARS.

"I'm sorry, Ruby. I know it's terrible. But like I said it's in the interest of our community sticking together. And... standing up for those brave enough to flout convention. If you're not up to it is there someone who might be?"

She DOESN'T KNOW. Sob.

"...Was William a quean too?"

"I don't think he was interested in sex at all. Everyone thought he surely was sleeping with someone but somehow he never went home with anyone at night. I never even saw him kiss someone."

Oscar shrugs. "Some artists are too caught up in their work for that kind of thing... He didn't hang around with a particularly queer crowd, then? Or any other unusual people, outside of artists?"

"He hung around with queers and artists. And that Chu Chu, of course, but I wouldn't expect her to know anything about-- horrid books. Very sensible girl."

"I remember her. Aspiring doctor? Wait-- you were all at Lady Malcolm's Ball, right?"

"Yes! Best time of the year."

"Come on, you must get invited to better parties than that!-- I was dressed as Pierrot."

"None with so many people. Or the chance to be oneself in front of a normal audience."

Oscar doesn't understand the psychology of the quean but he nods sympathetically. "That'll jostle the public's complacency all right. I might want to talk to Chu Chu, though-- if you happen to have her address."

Nigel writes it down! "Thank you for the book."

Ruby's body language shifts; she(?) seems more subdued somehow. Probably it's his imagination. "Of course. Sorry, for, uh, misleading you-- like I said, you're not the first by any means to get misled."

That evening, Oscar finishes reading Der Wanderer. 

The text is split into two halves, headed First Act and Second Act, and describes the dreams of a man. It is written in the form of a case history, but probably can be read as autobiographical despite the absence of personal pronouns. There is no mention of studying a subject or of interviews with him. The text does not seem to be organized for dramatic effect or to be a resource, nor is it fiction, poetry, or science. T

The dreams, which are recounted in German (the rest of the text is in English) focus on a power that the man explores and slowly comes to know. The power was once on Earth and is essentially unknowable: it would view man and his accomplishments as we would view ants and an anthill. The dreamer usually refers to the power as “The King”, but twice early on uses the synonym “Kaiwan” and one other time “The Unspeakable One”. The writer absorbs pieces of knowledge through periods of intense dreaming, but interspersed are periods when he is denied dreams. Eventually he visits a city, Carcosa, which opens up his senses even more: it is a place of beauty and contentment, although challenging to his perceptions.

excerpts:

But where, who, or what is Hali? In his reading the texts, either by design or uncertainty, are obscure and even contradictory. In his dreams contradictions were also rife but he felt that Hali was the Lake itself, and the shepherds who tended sheep on it, and the twin suns that sank beneath, and the God that all venerated." "The reader imagines that this is the first race to own dominion over this planet and that it will be the last. That is wrong thinking but each must come to this conclusion on his own account — it is something one has to see for oneself, not be told. He knows his opinion would be derided or else provoke anger so he does not try to persuade.

This is the litany of the peoples of Earth. Before the first, there was blackness, and there was fire. The Earth cooled and life arose, struggling against the unremembering emptiness.

First were the five-winged eldermost of Earth, faces of the Yith. In the time of the elders, the archives came from the stars. The Yith raised up the Shoggoth to serve them in the archives, and the work of that aeon was to restore and order the archives on Earth.

Second were the Shoggoth, who rebelled against their makers. The Yith fled forward, and the Earth belonged to the Shoggoth for an aeon…

Sixth are humans, the wildest of races, who share the world in three parts. The people of the rock, the K’n-yan, build first and most beautifully, but grow cruel and frightened and become the Mad Ones Under the Earth. The people of the air spread far and breed freely, and build the foundation for those who will supplant them. The people of the water are born in shadow on the land, but what they make beneath the waves will live in glory till the dying sun burns away their last shelter.

Seventh will be the Ck’chk’ck, born from the least infestation of the houses of man, faces of the Yith. The work of that aeon will be to read the Earth’s memories, to analyze and annotate, and to make poetry of the Yith’s own understanding… 

Thirteenth will be the Evening People. The Yith will walk openly among them, raising them from their race’s infancy with the best knowledge of all peoples. The work of that aeon will be copying the archives, stone to stone, and building the ships that will carry the archives, and the Evening, to distant stars. After they leave, the Earth will burn and the sun fade to ashes.

After the last race leaves, there will be fire and unremembering emptiness. Where the stories of Earth will survive, none have told us.
 

The last line of the book:

Some would be disconcerted by the structure of this treatise, but it is for us to walk on the Earth in Carcosa: that is the Third Act. That passage may or may not be written.

Oscar's made a dutiful list of proper nouns to cross-reference with Independent King in Yellow Scholar Terrence. At least he hasn't had a vision of his own death. He ought to be relieved he finished or creeped out or something. Instead sits at his desk for a while. He has a manuscript to read but ignores it. He has letters to answer but doesn't touch the stack. When he finally gets up and goes to bed, exhausted, he hears the birds singing.

Somewhere in the back of his mind there's-- an odd thing. Like a new sense, in a way, or like the gap between your teeth when one has just been pulled out. It feels like he could twist his mind in a certain way and do-- something. He knows, on some bone-deep level it's hard to name, that he could see a vision of the future, or show one to someone else. And that this vision must, in some way, come true.

He knows that he could do the thing that Roby did.

This isn't a rational chain of thoughts, nor is it comforting by any means. It has the feeling of a Deep Insight into the Universe, the kind you get from certain drugs. It has the feeling of being part of the texture of the universe, the weight of inarguable fact. There's only one thing he can do here. Oscar is, of course, going to sleep it off.

In the morning, when he wakes up, the odd gap-between-his-teeth feeling is still there.

Fuck.

I mean, it's still just a feeling. It's actually good that he knew reading this book does strange things to your mind. He doesn't know how but art is powerful and new innovations in technique happen all the time. He doesn't have to like Der Wanderer to admit it's got something unique about it. Of course he's going to ignore the part where those strange experiences predict things that happened.

Or, well, try to ignore it for as long as he can.