[4:73]

Dick mentions some mundane meeting with a magazine writer who writes disparagingly of him even after he offered the man some eggs. Then, in a pained vein, seeming already to be disenchanted with that which possesses him on the day-to-day and hoping for more of the Creator visions, he is, in perfect ancient form, convinced that the half-pint deity [being a beautified ancestral physician, Aklepios, is something of a faltering or fallen angel, a duplicitous visitation charged with Dick’s illumination yet not entirely respectful of him. This deity, in Dick’s mind stands offstage—Dick being the stage—at the head of a disparaging chorus of lesser lights, come jaunting down the stairs of Time to snicker at he who struggles at its opaque nadir.

“…the scales falling from my eyes and my illusions shot to hell. I had been talked to four times already that night by Asklepios and several people with him, and all at once I discovered that he was telling me the usual mount of half-truths and lies and opinions like anyone else…”

Dick’s joy at being contacted by the Creator from outside of Time has given way to the bitterness of being assigned an all too human [angelic?] case worker from further back in Time. Dick has become Job, vexed with Satan’s instructional attention clouding his hazy but once clear Almighty intention.

He goes on to describe himself as a spiritual child—which, based on his drug use and secular hysteria over politics is obvious—and sulks like a child for discovering his parents have flaws. Like Aeneas, whose mother Venus visits him in disguise, and who is unable to contact Jove Almighty who resides outside of Time, Dick yearns for more direct contact with the eternal.