So he could see the red angel sitting across from him, with all the other people sitting around playing games.  She had something to say and she was coming through clearly, which made him feel good, but then there was this other aspect of himself that was confused and sad, that had developed in his mind a conspiracy of the Moons of Saturn, Mimas and Pandora, also Prometheus, I think.  But it was very like the tremendous fantasy he had had of that other time.

And then he had a bunch of memories that didn’t make any sense about conversations that had never happened in Grand Rapids, and a bunch of very weird things that had never made any sense, and also a lot of really stupid, ugly people who were never entertaining at all, and some place he could have gone to do something but now he was here instead and he had known a lot of people who were really revolting and seen a whole bunch of stupidity and suicide.  And he was going to get paid some more but there was some deeper magic happening also that he had some faith in, it was like he had emptied out his life and now he was going to go on into the future as something else, with something else.  And there had been a very dramatic daydream about the moons of Saturn, Tethys, Calypso, Telesto, etc.  And perhaps he should be thinking about Mimas.

So one the one hand, everyone was full of shit, but on the other he had just accomplished something and now a Red Angel was appearing to him. She reminded him of S. B. who had forgotten about him long ago.  And why was all the chaos? He wanted to ask.  Why was it important to see these monsters, to assimilate to their filth under the influence of phrase?  What was he supposed to be — and here he felt some flunky wanting to assimilate the same tired bullshit about choice and responsibility.

There was a car chase, indeed!  He had been replaying that conversation with E. S., thinking about the W. a bit.  It was working out for him, but he had to come up with a way to do it in the middle of this disturbing game of conservatives.  Earlier he had seen a whole parade of them and learned to say good night.

The channeling was picking up speed and he was indeed John Constantine, prowling around the night with a trench coat and a switchblade.  Then the tiredness came upon him, and it was like an episode of Star Trek, but he could look forward to the next weekend when it would all begin again.  It had never made sense, but he was going to get completely away from it and not have to deal with the dislike and the stupidity again.  At last he had gotten what he wanted, but of course he had to get a hold of Juliet.