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Located on a pay phone somewhere north of Twenty Forth street in the Mission District, found from a fuel of caffeine and burritos. Put the various instruments on it.

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The homing pylon was constructed.

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Our homing beacon. The flower's bait bade for the aliens gods that run this city to come down and offer some sort of message to the residents of this place, and the spaceship runs up though the astral plane.

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fennel, leaves, random doodads, match booklets, pieces of metal, etc, essential component sacrifices suspended in mid air as per communion with the beacon to the metropolis gods.

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Up to the heavens the message reached...

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The phone rang three times in turn, one for Madeline, one for Monotony, and one for Pink, And the gods spoke to each of us in turn, though only a picture of Monotony remains. The messages were short, only a few words a piece. The revelations contained would shape us forever, illuminating the nature of san francisco, life, the universe, and everything, with truth, justice, and the liminal way. We would be changed from the experience, gaining new gnosis. We rode the busses home and saw the scenery for what it truly was, the people for who they truly were, watching out to see the tower looking down over us, perhaps beaming more god messages as we trundled homeward bound, holding the gift in our blood.

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We left with the extra three mirrors we had found previously to construct the beacon, so that we might make signals to the gods from our earthly domains.