programming it. I had one of the first sex cybernauts, you see. My android replica was playing up again, it's no joke. I was terribly, I don't know, pissed off with the whole thing. My heart wasn't in it." "That explains a lot," said Trillian. "Your robot has taken depression to new depths." "I would really like to meet him," said Percival. "I never met him after initial programming, he was whisked away to serve on a new ship, the Heart of Gold." "I'll get him for you," said Bolo, running off to the interface room. "I never thought I'd get this opportunity," said Percival. "We don't get to see any finished products. It was a shame I wasn't a bit more cheerful when I did Marvin, but I only recall being cheerful once, and I didn't waste that on a stupid robot." Bolo brought Marvin through the desks to Percival. "Marvin, this is your creator, Percival Unha," said Trillian, proudly. "Daddy?" Stuttered Marvin. "Marvin," said Percival. Marvin moved forward and embraced Percival. Tears welled up in everyone's eyes. Marvin gripped Percival tighter as Percival sobbed on his shoulder. It may have been a trick of the light, but Trillian was sure she saw a smile on Marvin's face, just before he sent fifty thousand volts through Percival. "That'll teach him to fuck around playing God," said Marvin as he trundled through the smouldering mess that was once Percival. CHAPTER 57 Zaphod, Ford and Arthur had now reached the final room of the initiative test. They had just carefully circumnavigated a large pool of aggressive looking slime, which was perfectly harmless apart from the smell. If they had touched any part of the slime, the smell would have stayed with them for life. As most potential employees couldn't avoid the slime, the Marketing Division came up with the slogan 'You may think our products stink, but you should meet our employees' as a possible replacement for 'Share and enjoy'. The only reasons Zaphod, Ford and Arthur had reached this final room were luck, bad taste and the fact that the initiative test wasn't designed for three people who spent more time arguing about what to do than doing anything at all. Most potential hazards got so bored waiting, they went off to pester someone else. The final room contained two exit doors, a large screen and three weary hitchhikers. "So this is it," said Arthur. "We're going to get out of here." "I told you I'd get you through," said Zaphod. "When?" Asked Ford. "Earlier," said Zaphod. "Didn't I? Well if I didn't, I sure meant to. You should have known you could rely on me." "Rely on you!" Exclaimed Arthur. "That's a bit of a contradiction in terms. It's like saying 'Flat Pack Easy Assembly' or 'Military Intelligence'." "Haven't I given you guidance?" Demanded Zaphod. "Guidance?" Yelled Ford. "Climbing up the wall screaming 'Slime, slime, don't let it touch me' is not my idea of guidance." "Hey! Get offa my case," said Zaphod. "Wasn't it me who discovered the gravity walls around the slime?" "I didn't like the look of that stuff," said Arthur. "It reminded me of stuff on Earth that was put on hamburgers disguised as relish." "And I really relish the thought of getting outta here guys," whined Zaphod. "So can we please get a move on?" As Zaphod spoke, the large screen lit up. An old, balding head wearing glasses appeared. He had the look of a traffic warden with piles. Totally humourless was a very generous description of the look on his face. "You have reached the final room of the initiative test," began the Face. "And your final test. You must decide which of these two doors to pass through, one being an exit door to the offices and the other is a true exit door off this mortal coil in a horrible fashion. I can help you by answering one question about the doors but be warned, I can only say one true sentence and the rest lies or one false sentence and the rest the truth." "Terrific," sighed Ford. The Face remained motionless. "Well?" Asked Zaphod. "Let's have some help, oh happy hologram." "I am an incredible liar." Stated the Face. "Which door is safe?" Asked Arthur. "The left door is perfectly safe," said the Face. "If he said he was a liar then that was the truth, so the right door must be safe," said Arthur, heading towards the door. "Wait!" Yelled Ford. "I'm not sure. If he lied about being a liar, then the left door is perfectly safe. Let's make an effort to get our heads around this concept." "Listen, all I want to get my heads around is a stiff drink, preferably served by a wench with obscene tendencies," said Zaphod. "Let Arthur go." "What?" Shouted Arthur. "I could die!" "You could save the life of the editor of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, man!" Retorted Zaphod. "Get your priorities right. Sheesh, your grip of universal importance is as good as my grip on Eccentrica Gallumbits' bits at this very moment in time. We could both do with taking things in hand a bit more." "Look, petty in-fighting won't help us," said Ford, trying to calm things down. "Why not?" Said Arthur. "That's all this poor excuse for an intergalactic waste disposal unit in reverse seems to show any aptitude for." "Listen pal, if we're talking about aptitude, let me get a banana and see if you can manage to peel it without scratching your arse thinking about it," snarled Zaphod. "Will you two just give it a rest," pleaded Ford. "Let's just devote our energy to solving this problem. Now let's think." CHAPTER 58 Marvin, Trillian, Fenchurch and Bolo had finally reached the main computer room. An imposing oak door barred the way. "Only executives are allowed to enter," said Marvin. "I'll go into a interface room to get us in." "How?" Asked Bolo. "Because he's got the brain the size of a planet," said Trillian. "Beat you to it, Marvin." "I wasn't going to say it anyway," said Marvin. "I was going to say that the executives are as stupid as all other life forms. A digital watch could get in without too much trouble." He went into the interface room. "He seemed to cheer up a bit after he killed Percival," remarked Fenchurch. "Remember he's in a new body," said Trillian. "He's probably found a pleasure circuit and doesn't know what to do with it." They all stared at the door. Nothing happened. Well that wasn't strictly true. The high level of static acid given off by Marvin's attitude was eating its way into the door. The acid gnawed and corroded the helpless door. However, as this was invisible to the naked or even half dressed eye and total corrosion would take 1.347 million years (thirty years short of redecoration which would reverse the process), it would be fair to say that as far as Fenchurch, Bolo and Trillian were concerned, nothing happened. Trillian went over to the interface room, opened the door and was shocked. A female android was spreadeagled on a table, with Marvin perched precariously on top. "Do you mind?" Said Marvin. Trillian muttered a very apologetic apology and shut the door. She was tempted to open the door again just to prove to herself that reality hadn't gone AWOL. After a minute Marvin opened the door and shut it behind him. "Haven't you ever seen a robot interfacing before?" Asked Marvin. Trillian mouth was stuck in neutral but she managed to gesture a negative response. "I'd like to tell you about the bugs and the bytes and explain the difference between male and female interface plugs," said Marvin. "But it's dead boring." "The door's open!" Said Fenchurch. "And life is dull," said Marvin. "Why state the obvious?" What was not obvious to most life forms and could be considered one of the Universes best kept secrets is the fact that robots and computers can enjoy a healthy sex life. Computers have often been connected together in the light of the improved performance. This is not due to shared resources, the truth of the matter being that they perform better because they are more relaxed and satisfied after a good bout of interfacing. Robots have often wondered why it's never been taken up in life form work places in place of say, a coffee break. Considering the poor quality of coffee available in such workplaces, this has always been a mystery. Still, the robots don't let on as it give them another reason to snigger. As with most functions performed by computers and robots, a complete set of jargon words have been devised to confuse the layman. A basic translation list now follows (all those of a nervous or prudish disposition, or those who just want to get on with the story, should skip this section). Interface - Sex (The thought of a man to machine interface is repulsive to most devices) Terminals - Breasts Twin floppy disks - Breasts Joystick - Penis (It is often queried why there are two names for breasts and only one for penis, but only by very stupid people) User defined function - Sexual act (usually kinky) Stand alone - Wanker Cluster - Group sex Replication - Conception Firewall - Contraception Handshaking - Foreplay Baud rate - Level of boredom Cursor device - Unwilling partner SCSI - Easy lay USB - Mythological easy lay PEEK - Voyeurism POKE - Sexually inquisitive GOSUB - Oral sex INPUT - Down to business LOAD - Really down to business Full duplex - Frantic lovemaking Syntax error - Premature ejaculation Hyperbolic function - Male orgasm Graphic display - Female orgasm 'The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is proud to offer a confidential counselling service for all sexually frustrated or troubled devices. Interface with us and half your problems are solved.' Arthur, Zaphod and Ford's problem wasn't solved. "Look, if the truth was that he wasn't a liar, then he didn't lie about the left door being safe," said Ford. "Uh?" Was all Zaphod could offer. He was much more content trying to vandalise the screen. "No, no," argued Arthur. "The right door is right, right, because the liar bit wasn't a lie was it!" Just then, what looked like Trillian walked in. "Hey, Babe, whatcha doing here," smoothed Zaphod. He had spent years working on his smoothing and had damn near perfected it. "I'm not your Babe', thank you very much. My name is Cis," said Cis. "I messed up in one of the rooms and ended up looking like this. It's all over." "Shee," said Zaphod. "I'll sue the bastards for copyright on my woman as well." "Well, Cis, it isn't over," said Ford. "If you go through the right door, you will be changed back to what you were before." "Great," said Cis. He walked through the door and was disintegrated. "Ford!" Protested Arthur. "Look, how do you know he wasn't a pile of dust before?" Ford replied and walked through the left door. CHAPTER 59 "Are you sure we are in the right place?" Asked Bolo, looking around at the luscious forest surrounding them. They were in an idyllic clearing by a small crystal clear pond. "This is the main computer room," said Marvin. "It's a new concept in organic computers." "You mean this is a computer?" Asked Trillian. "It's a lot better looking than Eddie." "Arthur would love it," giggled Fenchurch, thinking of time spent in the wooded section of Hyde Park. "It is based on the fact that most life forms feel relaxed in these surroundings," droned Marvin. "They call it 'user friendly', oh, how I hate that term." "But how do we key in information?" Asked Trillian. "You don't," snapped Marvin and broke into song. "I talk to the trees, but they don't listen to me. A spectographic analysis of my voice, is compared to countless voice patterns in memory. "On parity, they listen to me." The girls were stunned into silence. "Well, that's how the adverts were going to run," said Marvin, almost ashamedly. "But they found they wouldn't be able to offer maintenance support. Something to do with there not being enough lumberjacks and gardeners qualified in computer engineering. So they connected the only working model up here and the executives use it to talk to the computers. Give me the days when you could depress a key." "I think it's romantic," said Fenchurch, putting a daisy in her hair. "I wish we could have one on the Heart of Gold," sighed Trillian. "I wish I could throw up," said Marvin. "Thank you Marvin," said Trillian. "Right, we've got to stop this computer instructing the devices to overthrow the Universe. How do we do it, Marvin?" "You want to do it, you work out how to do it." "Okay Marvin, if you want to be like that." Trillian turned her back on him. "I don't want to be like anything," muttered Marvin. "Can you understand us?" Shouted Bolo. "Look!" Said Fenchurch, pointing to the pond. The word 'YES' appeared in the water. "Are you connected up to every Sirius Cybernetics Corporation device in the Universe?" Asked Fenchurch. The word 'YES' reappeared. "And you can instruct them to take over the Universe?" Said Bolo. The word came back again. "If we gave you an irreversible instruction never to communicate with any device every again, would you do it?" Asked Trillian. The pond went blank as this was being considered. I WOULDN T HAVE MUCH CHOICE, I WOULD eventually floated up. "Okay, you must never communicate with another Sirius Cybernetics Corporation device again after you send not this instruction," said Trillian, looking at the others. "Instruct all devices never to carry out any instruction to overthrow the Universe." ALL DEVICES INSTRUCTED AND ALL CONNECTIONS TERMINATED floated up. Trillian didn't realise that she had just committed the computer to a lifetime of celibacy, a bit of a giant blow to a computer with such an active sex life, but she had just saved the Universe. Dark clouds filled the sky and the distant rumblings of thunder echoed around the trees. "I think this would be a good time to leave," said Marvin. "This computer is only half as depressed as I am, but it's still contemplating suicide." A bolt of lightening ripped a nearby tree in half. The frantic charge towards the door suggested everyone agreed with Marvin. They slammed the door behind them. "That wasn't so difficult," said Trillian. "It was easy," said Marvin. "I knew the answer before I 'd even computed the question. However, most idiotic life forms would have resorted to mindless violence after failing to find any logical solution or even forget about the possibility of a second computer communicating with all the devices. Therefore, I admit I am almost not loathed to say I could barely not be unimpressed by your approach." "Oh, Marvin, you say the sweetest things," said Trillian and kissed Marvin on the cheek "That's right, try and rust me," moaned Marvin. Ford, Arthur and Zaphod bounded up "What are you doing here?" Asked Arthur furiously. "Oh, just saving the Universe and that," said Trillian, sweetly. "Is that really you, chick?" Asked Zaphod. "Of course," said Trillian. "Who else could it be?" "A reconstructed pile of dust," said Ford, grinning inanely. "We've disabled the main computer and prevented the SCC from ever overthrowing the Universe using their devices," said Fenchurch, putting her daisy behind Arthur's ear. "You'd have liked it in there." "That's not the point," flustered Arthur. "We were going to save the Universe." "Yeh!" Said Zaphod. "A women's place is behind the cocktail cabinet in the living room." "We almost got killed in there!" Exclaimed Bolo. "Well, I'm all for equal opportunities," said Zaphod. "You have as much right to save the Universe as we did, even if we would have done it with more style." "Look, shouldn't we get a move on before they turn on the alarm and find us," said Bolo. An alarm sounded in the background. "They've turned on the alarm," said Fenchurch. Laser fire blasted a wall behind them. "They've found us," said Arthur. "RUN!" They charged down endless corridors pursued by a bunch of jovial Marvin lookalikes intent on killing them. The robots were very pleasant about it all though, apologising after each shot. Our heroes and heroines are, of course, perfectly safe. Both parties were subconsciously following the strict laws laid down regarding enemy pursuit. These are many and varied, but the main rules are: 1. Pursuers must remain a safe distance from pursuees, but must remain within reasonable shooting distance. 2. Pursuers must be crack shots and may fire unlimited shots at walls, doors and anything else around the pursuees, but NOT directly at pursuees. 3. If a pursuee is shot by accident, the pursuers are penalised by the time it takes for the shot pursuee to convince his partners to continue without him while he tries to hold off the pursuers as long as he can. Once the remaining pursuees have left their fallen partner, he can be killed and the chase restarted in earnest. 4. The pursuees must not turn any corner until they have been shot at, or at least indicated their direction. 5. The corridors must be endless, generally formed in a loop to save on budget. 6. One member of the pursuees must suggest splitting up. "I suggest we split up," yelled Trillian. "If I get hit I will split up!" Yelled Zaphod. "This way," yelled Arthur to Fenchurch, grabbing her hand and pulling her through a doorway. "Split up.... NOW!" Yelled Ford. Trillian and Bolo dashed one way and Ford and Zaphod charged the other way, all of them yelling. Another rule is that all participants must yell. Fenchurch pulled Arthur through a doorway, almost breaking his arm as he intended going the other way. "Shhh," she whispered. Three jovial robots trundled by. "We should be safe here for a while," she eventually said, hoping the robots didn't have super hearing. "I don't want to be safe for a while," said Arthur. "I want to be safe for good." "Aren't you enjoying it?" Asked Fenchurch. "My idea of enjoyment does not include being shot at by an jolly and helpful android." "I know what your idea of enjoyment is. I find all this very exciting. Doesn't it turn you on?" She slipped her arms around his waist. "Er, not really." He could hear the distant sounds of laser fire and apologies. "It's all a bit distracting." Fenchurch did something wonderful to his ear. Arthur succumbed to the notion that if he was going to go, this was the way to do it and Fenchurch really knew how to do it. What they didn't realise was that they were saving their lives as the robots had privacy circuits fitted which sensed arousal and caused the robots to seek another function far away. Zaphod and Ford weren't in any position to initiate any privacy circuits. They were desperately dodging laser fire. Zaphod was throwing himself into somersaults, crashing into walls and various other unnecessary actions that were good for effect. He rounded a corner and saw a sight to warm his heart, mouth and throat. A neon sign saying 'BAR'. "Hey! Was my navigation good or what?" He said as one of his heads almost got a parting from a laser he wouldn't be able to blow dry out. "Quick!" Said Ford, as if it was really necessary to instruct Zaphod on how to enter a bar. They crashed through the doors and into the bar. They landed in a heap on the floor. "We usually end up like this when we leave a bar, not when we enter," said Ford. "This is just like the good old days." "Yeah, adventure, excitement and really wild things." "Yeah, being chased." "Yeah." "The danger." "Yeah." "Risking life and limb." "Yeah.... Don't you kind of long for the good new days?" "Yeah." They got up and went to the bar. "Listen, everyone," shouted Ford. "Yeah, listen," reaffirmed Zaphod "A couple of robots will be coming through that door in a minute." "Yeah, two evil mothers." The crowd listened intently. "Well, they're not really evil, they're quite nice about it all, they just want to kill us." "And do you know who I am?" Demanded Zaphod. "Not now, Zaph old buddy, I've almost got them on my side," whispered Ford. He raised his voice again for the crowd. "They want to kill us, and we don't want that." "No way, said Zaphod. The gathering crowd seemed to agree. "So if you can stop them...." Ford paused for effect. "My friend will buy you all a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster!" "Yeah, the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster's are on... .What, Ford?" The cheers from the crowd drowned Zaphod protest. The nice robots entered and were almost immediately destroyed by the thirsty drinkers. They were all back at the bar before the first wisps of smoke from the robots reached the low ceiling. Zaphod's back was slapped more times than an Arcturan mega donkey in the Betelgeuse Grand National. "Put it on the slate," Zaphod said to the frantic barmen, making a mental note never to visit this bar again. This was something Zaphod had done all over the Universe, but not to the religious levels that Arthur hadn't. Arthur and Fenchurch, having left the chase for a spot of uninhibited fun (or as uninhibited as Arthur could be knowing a team of robots were after his blood), were now back in the thick of it. A combination of luck, instinct and improbability guided them outside. They were just behind Ford and Zaphod, whose straight line capability had been seriously undermined by the victory celebration in the bar. Bolo, Trillian and Marvin were in the hatchway of the Heart of Gold. "Come on!" Yelled Trillian, seeing the robots closing in. Zaphod grabbed Ford's arm. "Let's stand and fight these guys, impress the chicks," said Zaphod. "I feel like mashing some metal." Zaphod flexed his sinews. Ford was so stunned he stopped running. "What are they doing?" Asked Bolo. "I wish I knew," said Trillian. "I know," said Marvin. He looked at Bolo and Trillian then went back to looking at Ford and Zaphod. "Well do you think you could tell us then," said Trillian, trying to remain patient. "They are lifeforms." Trillian waited. "That isn't much help, Marvin," said Bolo. "Look," said Marvin, summing up every monotony circuit to help convey his message. "Since 97.6667% of activities undertaken by lifeforms are stupid and or pointless, the law of averages says that whatever they are doing is probably stupid and or pointless." "Thanks, Marvin." Marvin was, of course, right. Not only were Ford and Zaphod unarmed, they were also well on their way to being legless. "What the hell are you doing?" Asked Arthur as he approached the defiant duo. "Standing our ground," said Ford. "But that's insane," said Arthur, stopping. Fenchurch had no intention of stopping and every intention of breaking the 100 metres record. "We can beat these metallic morons," said Zaphod. "If you stay here they'll become metallic murderers," pleaded Arthur. "Arthur, if you can't stand the heat, go and join the women," said Ford. "If I had any sense I would," sighed Arthur and turned to face the oncoming robots. This stunned the robots. It wasn't in the rules and as there was no umpire handy to consult, they were stumped. They muttered amongst themselves then one stepped forward. "How do you do," he started, in a perfect English accent. "My name is Jeremy and my colleagues have very kindly voted me spokesman. "Howdy, Germy, " said Zaphod. "Er, howdy to you, too. Now, we are a bit perplexed to say the least by your actions. We have been programmed to kill you, not our choice you see, and we were having quite a jolly time chasing you and that." "Spiffing fun, wasn't it old chap," chirped Ford. "Yes, very exhilarating. But it would be very unsporting of us to kill you in cold blood." "I'll say!" Shouted one robot from the back. "Well they say the chase is better than the catch," said Arthur. "You are so right," said Jeremy. "Well guys," said Zaphod, holding his arms out. "You've been so nice about all this, we'll give you a break. We'll go to our ship, take off and then you can come and chase us. All this running is bad for the legs." "Hear, hear!" Shouted the robots. "Sounds like a grand idea to me," said Jeremy. "Okay then, that's settled," said Ford. "Give us five minutes to get a head start then it's 'Tally-Ho' away you go!" This started Jeremy off, leading the robots in 'three cheers for the lads' and Arthur thinking that they still hadn't quite got the programming right at the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation. "Look at those schmucks," said Zaphod as they turned to the Heart of Gold. "We'll improb out of here and they won't know where to start looking." They got back to the ship, with Ford and Arthur congratulating each other and Zaphod congratulating himself. The girls tried to compete by telling the guys how stupid they had been. "Okay computer, get us out of this wretched place," said Zaphod as he arrived at the bridge. "Hi guys," enthused Eddie."Great to see you again. I'm sorry I can't get you out of this, but I'm sure we are going to have a great time instead." "What are you talking about, computer?" Asked Ford. "Use the improbability drive and get us out before some very sporting robots tear us limb from limb." "Well, there's the problem," said Eddie. "the improbability drive isn't working, some clown pulled a wire on it. Anyone fancy a game of Charades? I'm not too good at acting them out but I'm a whizz at guessing them." "Swutting mechanics," growled Zaphod. "Did they pull the wire?" Asked Frod. "No, I did," admitted Zaphod. "But that's not the point." "Nice going, Zaphod," sighed Ford. "You've done some dumb things in your time and I thought I witnessed a classic just now outside but no, this takes honours." "Hey! Don't come down on me," pleaded Zaphod. "My hangovers are catching up with me." "If those robots catch up with you," yelled Arthur, glad of the chance to let off some steam at Zaphod. "You'll have a hangover you'll never forget, or never remember, according to where you end up. I just hope I don't end up in the same place. Purgatory would be a great alternative." "Is there no way off this planet without improbability drive?" Asked Bolo. "Oh yes," said Ford. "Dead easy way through the acid clouds, only we don't know the co-ordinates." "I know the co-ordinates." Everyone turned to look at Marvin. He pretended to be interested in something else, which as he had no interest in anything, he didn't do very convincingly. "Marvin, old buddy, old mate," gushed Zaphod. "Looks like you've come through for us again." "I said I know the co-ordinates," said Marvin. "I didn't say I was going to tell you." Zaphod aimed a wild kick at Marvin, which only resulted in Marvin not being dented and Zaphod crawling about on the floor holding his foot and whimpering in pain and lack of sympathy. "Look, Marvin," said Trillian, softly. "Please feed the co-ordinates into Eddie. I'm supposed to get married to Zaphod later and you wouldn't want me to miss that, would you?" Marvin thought about this point for a long time before he gave his answer. To everyone else, he appeared to answer back immediately. "I don't really care about that, but I'd rather not stay with those tiresome tin soldiers out there, they bore me to tears, where as you only bore me to distraction." He made his way over to Eddie. "Hi, Marvin." "Actually I am very low." "Even robots like to be greeted in a friendly and cheerful manner." "Well I don't, so just shut up." "Most robots seem to respond well to my pleasing tones and often remark about.... OUCH!" "I just jammed those co-ordinates right up his rectal information passage," said Marvin. "I like your style," said Ford. "Okay, Eddie, get us out of here." "Okay fella," said Eddie. "But could you tell Marvin to be a little more laid back about this?" The Heart of Gold leapt into a drunken dance through the clouds. Ford and Bolo retired to their quarters to explore the hypothesis that sexual performance is affected detrimentally by stress and pressure. There was also the theory of sex after death to evaluate if the situation arose. It amounted to a lot of research to be crammed in, which explained their eagerness to get on with it. "I don't know how they can," muttered Arthur. "Perhaps if you ask them nicely they'll let you watch," scowled Zaphod. Arthur reverted his attention to the monitor. He could see six small blobs gaining on the large blob that was the Heart of Gold. "Can't we go into hyperspace or something?" Asked Fenchurch. "We could end up smack bang in the middle of a Supernova," said Zaphod, purposefully flicking a handful of switches. The fact that he had only turned down the air conditioning wasn't important, the main thing was that he was doing something. The Heart of Gold screamed out of the acid clouds like Archimedes out of the bath having sat on something. "Come with me," said Zaphod, pulling Arthur along. They went through the ship until they came to a ladder. Zaphod gestured Arthur down as he started climbing up. Arthur found himself in a glass bowl on the side of the ship. He looked up and saw Zaphod in another bowl. Zaphod was seated and putting on a headset. Arthur followed suit and looked at the array of instruments in front of him. It suddenly clicked. These were the telecommunication rooms and he was going to act as a temporary telephonist to try and convince the robots they had the wrong number. He tried a few practice 'Good morning, Heart of Gold, which number please?' then took hold of one of the handles in front of him which he assumed was the spare telephone handset. He turned the handle and the seat changed position. He grabbed the other handle and found to his delight that he could move up, down and side to side. "This is much better than the swivel chairs our telephonists had," he yelled to Zaphod. Zaphod was too busy looking out of his bowl. "Here they come!" Said Trillian in Arthur's headset. Six small robot fighters hurtled past the Heart of Gold, guns a blazing. Arthur panicked and pressed the button on one of the handles. A bolt of laser scorched into space. He felt incredibly foolish. He hid his embarrassment by trying to blast the robot ships our of the sky. "They're coming in too fast!" He shouted to Zaphod. Zaphod twisted around and shot ahead of a fighter. The ship went straight into his line of fire and was blasted to pieces. "A-ha!" He yelled. Arthur tried to concentrate. He watched one ship and tried to predict its flight. He lined himself up and pressed the button. To his complete surprise he hit the ship and knocked it out of existence. "I got one!" He yelled. "Don't get cocky, kid," growled Zaphod. One fighter flew past Zaphod's bowl and blasted the shell of the Heart of Gold. Zaphod made him pay with a shot which knocked him into another fighter, destroying them both. "Top that," he said to Arthur. The three remaining fighters were flying in formation out of range. They dived down and did more damage to the Heart of Gold. "We've lost two stabilisers," said Trillian over the intercom. "Don't worry," replied Zaphod. "She'll hold together." He looked at the ship. "You hear me ship, hold together." The three fighters were descending on another attack. Arthur took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He shot and clipped the first ship, which spun out of control into the other two. There was an enormous explosion and debris showered the Heart of Gold. Unfortunately, one large piece of debris smashed into the tail and with two stabilisers gone, the ship spun hopelessly out of control. Round and round, the Heart of Gold was mercilessly pulled towards the desert planet of Stavromula Beta, where Arthur was to receive the shock of his life, because a lot of religious people he didn't know were waiting to meet him. CHAPTER 60 According to the Encyclopaedia Galactica, religion is an evolutionary stage most races go through as a stepping stone to peace of mind or enlightenment. The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy describes religion as great fun if you pick the right one and goes on to recommend several religions, based on fulfilment, cheapness and extent of brainwashing. The Guide then goes on with the following description of the history of religion with a footnote to the effect that although the views expressed may not be those of the Editor, he'll agree to put anything in which is supported by a large drink. Most religions follow the same basic path. It starts as an excuse for something which defies explanation, such as a nearby star, fire or water. As these things are understood, the energy channelled into worshipping has to be redirected, and as sophistication evolves, so does religion, to the extent of telling you what to do, what not to do, when to do it and at what time of year. As this usually involves something fun being forbidden, some people lose interest at this stage. Those who continue soon begin to lose sight of the original concept and diversification sets in to turn religion into what it is wanted to be (such the Holy Order of Sexual Enjoyment) rather than what was originally intended. This leads to disillusionment (except in the Holy Order of Sexual Enjoyment) and religion is generally given up, put down as 'One of those phases we went through', like teenage acne. Some people still follow religions, one of the most famous people being Looleel Jegula. He was a devout follower of the Order of Sanctonimity, a particularly dull religious group who believed that three days a year should be devoted to lying in mud swamps to show how grateful they were to be alive. This resulted in much ridiculing by non-believers, until Looleel announced that he was going to travel back in time to meet his maker, thank him, and return with proof of his existence. He made a tearful farewell to his Order, stepped into his time bubble, which promptly disappeared into time. He returned moments later to declare that although he hadn't actually met his maker, he had come across a 'NO ENTRY' sign at the year zero, which he claimed was proof that some holy person had been around to erect it. The sign had, in fact, been put there by non-believers as a practical joke and when Looleel was told, a big row broke out about time travel and messing around with history. Looleel became very unreligious for one moment and thumped one of the non-believers, which started an almighty war. After politics and the Babel Fish, religion is the third greatest cause of war ever known to the Galaxy. As for religious diversification, a perfect example can be found on the desert planet of Stavromula Beta. The Stavromulans have a strange history, which needs to be explored to understand their complex religious rituals. The Stavromulans are dwarf-like nomads, though this was not always the case. They are also half-stupid, which can be seen by the fact that although in certain areas they evolved very quickly, in most areas they remain positively backwards. For example, newspapers started at the same time as writing and could have evolved into something very sophisticated but remained at the level of gutter press because of the inferior intelligence of the readers. The most famous men in Stavromulan history were journalists. Each week these twelve journalists would meet up to discuss the week's stories and have a slap up meal. For Stavromulans, they were very intelligent, for they had vivid imaginations and created stories out of nothing. Normal Stavromulans had no imagination and, for example, would name their offspring with one name, then number any subsequent children. The children, being even more stupid, would always get their names wrong because they would be introduced, for example, as 'Our Second Bup'. The children would then call themselves 'Our second Bup' instead of Bup number two. The journalists would generally create a few new stories over dinner and then whoever paid the bill would get the exclusive. This was fine until one night when no news was bad news. No stories came forth, and there was no-one to foot the bill. Then one bright journalist suggested creating a person to pay the bill. This went down very well and all that was needed was a name. Silence fell over the table, until one of those freak wormholes in space and time opened up and the name 'Arthur Dent' fell out. Now as all Stavromulan journalists were expert ventriloquists (because of their ability to talk out of orifices other than their mouths) each journalist assumed someone else said it. "Our benefactor shall be called 'Our Third Ent'," declared one journalist and so this mystery character was created. The journalists started leaving the restaurant, telling the waiter that 'Our Third Ent' was paying and he was currently throwing up in the toilet. The ruse worked and was continued for many weeks until after one meal (generally referred to as the Last Slap Up), a journalist called 'Our First Udaz' was hard up for a story and decided to do an article on a mystery man called 'Our Third Ent' who was conning free meals out of restaurant owners. The other journalists were furious and all started writing their own exclusive interviews with 'Our Third Ent', each defending his actions and trying to outdo each other. This went on for weeks, with '20 things we've made up about Our Third Ent' Articles and 'Our Third Ent bingo'. All this exposure (and the mystery as no-one really knew anything about him) made 'Our Third Ent' a national hero. When one journalist decided to end the saga by reporting that 'Our Third Ent' had gone away but would return one day, all other papers gladly followed the story with confirmations, as they were all tired of it as well. However, this wasn't the end. The public were so caught up in the stories, they believed that when 'Our Third Ent' returned, he would save the world. Quite what was up with the world that it needed saving wasn't known, but the newspaper articles had changed Stavromulan history. The economy disappeared overnight as everyone decided to follow 'Our Third Ent's' example and not pay for anything. The people became nomadic, leaving before any bills arrived, building mighty roads out of bricks made from the yellow sands of the deserts. Throwing up became a regular ritual. So the foundations of Stavromulan religion were laid, but as everyone read different newspapers, they all had different ideas of 'Our Third Ent's' life on Stavromula and what it would be like when he returned, and so were the various religious sects formed. Some believed 'Our Third Ent' would bring sexual freedom on his return and this sect made love on three 'Our Third Ent' newspaper articles, twice a month, as a sign of faith. Others believed he would settle up all his bills, then find a nice young girl to marry. This sect would spend one day in every eighteen thrashing nice young single girls with a newspaper in preparation. Twelve sects were formed from the twelve newspapers and although they showed the faith in various ways, all believed in what was widely known as 'The Second Sitting of Our Third Ent.' The LOST CHAPTERS C61 to END of HHGTTG Converted by Ronald Lachenal Rml@iconn.com.ph CHAPTER 61 "What's happening?" Asked Ford, emerging from a room with Bolo and looking as dishevelled as everyone else, much to his surprise. "We got hit during a space battle," explained Zaphod, flicking on the scanner screen. "We spun out of control and crash landed on this planet and as you can see, hundreds of it's rather short looking inhabitants are flooding over the desert towards us." "What are we going to do?" Asked Fenchurch. "The monkey man is going out to talk to them," said Zaphod, casually. "What?" Yelled Arthur. "I knew we should have got him a replacement brain," said Zaphod. "Do you want to know where the tea is before you go?" "Zaphod! You can't send Arthur out there," exclaimed Trillian. "They could tear him to pieces." Zaphod declined to comment, but grinned. His teeth acted as a red rag to Arthur. He charged across the bridge, intending to send Zaphod flying, but Zaphod neatly side stepped and Arthur flew past, through a happy door that opened on seeing a body flying towards it and wished Arthur a fruitful journey. Arthur rolled down some stairs and ended up by the main airlock, which gladly hissed open. Arthur was confronted by hundreds of cheering dwarves. "Hooray, 'Our Seventh Obu' is dead. Long live our saviour!" They cheered. Arthur looked down and saw, to his dismay, two stumpy legs sticking out from under the Heart of Gold. He rightly assumed they belonged to 'Our Seventh Obu'. He didn't assume that she was the most infamous critic of Our Third Entism and was widely hated for her outspoken comments. If he had assumed this he would have again been right. He didn't so he apologised. "Don't apologise," shouted Latigid, the chief Stavromulan. "You have rid us of a blight to our land. What is the name of our hero?" "Arthur Dent," said Arthur and was astounded when the entire crowd fell to their knees, causing a minor sandstorm. He was joined by the rest of the party, who too were astounded. "What did you say to them, Arthur?" Asked Ford. "I just told them my name." "The Holy One shall wear the slippers of 'Our Seventh Obu' as protection and shall be carried on high to the holy theatre!" Said Latigid. Many dwarves rushed forward and put the red slippers from 'Our Seventh Obu's' feet on Arthur's feet. They didn't fit but as he was picked up it didn't really matter. "What about my friends?" Asked Arthur. "They too shall be carried on high." On high wasn't particularly high. Arthur's feet dragged along the ground, but it was better than walking. The road looked rough on the feet. Some one had obviously run ahead to spread the news, as crowds began to line the brick road. Arthur could see a town ahead. The crowds grew larger and Arthur began to enjoy himself. He waved at the crowds and they waved back. "Oooh, that's Our Third Ent!" Cried one woman, beside herself with excitement, which was quite a trick for a woman of her size. "He's much bigger than I thought he would be," shouted another person. One group wasn't cheering. Their sect believed in the Second Sitting, but also believed that Our Third Ent shouldn't have gone away in the first place. They were very devout and probably one of the most boring offshoots of Our Third Entism. They didn't pursue the sexual rituals that most other sects did and didn't have any religious holidays. They were the only sect that believed that Our Third Ent should be punished on his return and the gun that was to exercise that punishment was aimed at Arthur's head. Arthur, oblivious to this and many other startling facts about this planet, was having a great time. People rushed from the crowd just to be touched by him, something that had never happened on Earth. He wasn't particularly overjoyed by having his feet dragged along the ground and he could feel one of his slippers slipping off. No matter how much he wriggled his toes, it wouldn't stay on. Eventually he bent over and forced it back onto his foot. At that moment, a bullet whistled through the space that had previously contained his head, continued it's path and lodged itself firmly in the heart of someone standing in the crowd. No-one heard the shot because of all the cheering and those around him assumed the man had suffered a heart attack. They were wrong because fate had deemed this to the man in a former life and for variety had opted for the bullet this time. Arthur saw none of this and could therefore feel no sorrow for Agrajag. "Arthur," shouted Ford. "This is all very nice, but I imagine that the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation will come looking for us soon." "But Ford," sighed Zaphod, lapping up the adulation even though it wasn't for him. "The Heart of Gold is one invalid improbability drive ship." "Ah, I know," said Ford, a grin creeping onto his face. "But I found a back up improbability drive generator in our quarters. All we need to do is fix the stabilisers and we're history here." "I think Arthur is already history on this planet," said Fenchurch, proud of her man. "Ford," said Zaphod, still waving at the crowd. "We need an atomic vector plotter to connect the back up to the ship and I used the last one two weeks ago to unblock the toilet." "I knew there was something we forgot at the megamarket last week," moaned Trillian. "Perhaps these people have one," said Bolo, hopefully. "Any race that looks up to a puny primate is hardly likely to have evolved up to atomic vector plotter level," muttered Zaphod. Unfortunately, his bearers heard this. They dropped him, which didn't hurt, then jumped on him, which did. "Blasphemer!" They yelled. In no time at all, Zaphod was trussed up by the crowd and suspended from a pole held by his bearers. "Hey guys," he moaned. "Can't you take a joke? You've got as much humour as a Vogon Stag Night!" The power of this statement was lost on the Stavromulans, as they had never even met a Vogon, let alone be subjected to the ugliness of a Vogon bride. "Serves you right," said Trillian. "You chose the wrong place to insult Arthur." "Arthur, get them to put me down!" Yelled Zaphod, letting his cool slip to lukewarm. "We will do with him as you wish," said Latigid. "Leave him as he is until I decide," said Arthur, gloating. "Zaphod broke into a sob and Marvin broke into the Death March to cheer Zaphod up. The procession entered a long tunnel which Arthur failed to gauge accurately and subsequently remembered this by having to endure a bump on the head and the accompanying pain. The tunnel emerged into a large open air amphitheatre packed with Stavromulans. Marvin's bearers literally collapsed with joy as they reached the stage. "Don't apologise," said Marvin, knowing full well they had no intention of doing so. "I expect to be thrown about. It's all part of life." He was barely heard over the roars of the crowd as Arthur was introduced. "Look," argued Zaphod. "The crowd have got what they want. Why don't you let me go?" Latigid was unimpressed. "Your arguments have become stale and boring." "Stale, me?" Zaphod protested. "I'm so fresh my sell by date is light years away. By nunk, Arthur, I'll get you for this." Arthur wasn't listening. He was devouring all the adulation being thrust upon him. He walked to the front of the stage and held his arms out. This inspired more hysterical cheers from the crowd. He cleared his throat to speak and a sudden hush fell over the crowd. "People," he started. He felt it was a strong opening seeing as he had no insight into their culture. They hung on his every word. "I am Arthur Dent." Screams went up from the crowd but this time as a result of the robots from Sirius appearing around the top of the amphitheatre. The place emptied like a train full of lemmings at the White Cliffs of Dover. "We've caught up with you again," said Jeremy. "It wasn't even a good chase this time. You killed off our scouts, which was a bit unsporting and you waited here for us. I think you've lost interest, so if you can't be bothered, we'll just kill you. What is that robot doing with you?" "I am not just 'that robot', thank you very much," snorted Marvin. "You obviously have no conception of who I am." He paused to beg the question, then started again so soon as Jeremy began to speak. "I am your prototype, Marvin." The robots were stunned and amazed. "We were told you had been kidnapped." "What's the point of kidnapping me. Nobody wants me. I just ended up going along for the ride. Enough of that, why haven't you given me the android salute, I am your superior." The robots looked at each other, confused. "You stick you left arm in the right ear of the robot next to you. Didn't they programme you anything?" The robots obliged, exploded and lit up the Stavromulan sky with a firework display to rival the space battle seen but an hour before. "Almost as stupid as you lot," muttered Marvin. CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR "What's happening?" Asked Ford, emerging from a room with Bolo and looking as dishevelled as everyone else, much to his surprise. "We got hit during a space battle," explained Zaphod, flicking on the scanner screen. "We spun out of control and crash landed on this planet and as you can see, hundreds of it's rather short looking inhabitants are flooding over the desert towards us." "What are we going to do?" Asked Fenchurch. "The monkey man is going out to talk to them," said Zaphod, casually. "What?" Yelled Arthur. "I knew we should have got him a replacement brain," said Zaphod. "Do you want to know where the tea is before you go?" "Zaphod! You can't send Arthur out there," exclaimed Trillian. "They could tear him to pieces." Zaphod declined to comment, but grinned. His teeth acted as a red rag to Arthur. He charged across the bridge, intending to send Zaphod flying, but Zaphod neatly side stepped and Arthur flew past, through a happy door that opened on seeing a body flying towards it and wished Arthur a fruitful journey. Arthur rolled down some stairs and ended up by the main airlock, which gladly hissed open. Arthur was confronted by hundreds of cheering dwarves. "Hooray, 'Our Seventh Obu' is dead. Long live our saviour!" They cheered. Arthur looked down and saw, to his dismay, two stumpy legs sticking out from under the Heart of Gold. He rightly assumed they belonged to 'Our Seventh Obu'. He didn't assume that she was the most infamous critic of Our Third Entism and was widely hated for her outspoken comments. If he had assumed this he would have again been right. He didn't so he apologised. "Don't apologise," shouted Latigid, the chief Stavromulan. "You have rid us of a blight to our land. What is the name of our hero?" "Arthur Dent," said Arthur and was astounded when the entire crowd fell to their knees, causing a minor sandstorm. He was joined by the rest of the party, who too were astounded. "What did you say to them, Arthur?" Asked Ford. "I just told them my name." "The Holy One shall wear the slippers of 'Our Seventh Obu' as protection and shall be carried on high to the holy theatre!" Said Latigid. Many dwarves rushed forward and put the red slippers from 'Our Seventh Obu's' feet on Arthur's feet. They didn't fit but as he was picked up it didn't really matter. "What about my friends?" Asked Arthur. "They too shall be carried on high." On high wasn't particularly high. Arthur's feet dragged along the ground, but it was better than walking. The road looked rough on the feet. Some one had obviously run ahead to spread the news, as crowds began to line the brick road. Arthur could see a town ahead. The crowds grew larger and Arthur began to enjoy himself. He waved at the crowds and they waved back. "Oooh, that's Our Third Ent!" Cried one woman, beside herself with excitement, which was quite a trick for a woman of her size. "He's much bigger than I thought he would be," shouted another person. One group wasn't cheering. Their sect believed in the Second Sitting, but also believed that Our Third Ent shouldn't have gone away in the first place. They were very devout and probably one of the most boring offshoots of Our Third Entism. They didn't pursue the sexual rituals that most other sects did and didn't have any religious holidays. They were the only sect that believed that Our Third Ent should be punished on his return and the gun that was to exercise that punishment was aimed at Arthur's head. Arthur, oblivious to this and many other startling facts about this planet, was having a great time. People rushed from the crowd just to be touched by him, something that had never happened on Earth. He wasn't particularly overjoyed by having his feet dragged along the ground and he could feel one of his slippers slipping off. No matter how much he wriggled his toes, it wouldn't stay on. Eventually he bent over and forced it back onto his foot. At that moment, a bullet whistled through the space that had previously contained his head, continued it's path and lodged itself firmly in the heart of someone standing in the crowd. No-one heard the shot because of all the cheering and those around him assumed the man had suffered a heart attack. They were wrong because fate had deemed this to the man in a former life and for variety had opted for the bullet this time. Arthur saw none of this and could therefore feel no sorrow for Agrajag. "Arthur," shouted Ford. "This is all very nice, but I imagine that the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation will come looking for us soon." "But Ford," sighed Zaphod, lapping up the adulation even though it wasn't for him. "The Heart of Gold is one invalid improbability drive ship." "Ah, I know," said Ford, a grin creeping onto his face. "But I found a back up improbability drive generator in our quarters. All we need to do is fix the stabilisers and we're history here." "I think Arthur is already history on this planet," said Fenchurch, proud of her man. "Ford," said Zaphod, still waving at the crowd. "We need an atomic vector plotter to connect the back up to the ship and I used the last one two weeks ago to unblock the toilet." "I knew there was something we forgot at the megamarket last week," moaned Trillian. "Perhaps these people have one," said Bolo, hopefully. "Any race that looks up to a puny primate is hardly likely to have evolved up to atomic vector plotter level," muttered Zaphod. Unfortunately, his bearers heard this. They dropped him, which didn't hurt, then jumped on him, which did. "Blasphemer!" They yelled. In no time at all, Zaphod was trussed up by the crowd and suspended from a pole held by his bearers. "Hey guys," he moaned. "Can't you take a joke? You've got as much humour as a Vogon Stag Night!" The power of this statement was lost on the Stavromulans, as they had never even met a Vogon, let alone be subjected to the ugliness of a Vogon bride. "Serves you right," said Trillian. "You chose the wrong place to insult Arthur." "Arthur, get them to put me down!" Yelled Zaphod, letting his cool slip to lukewarm. "We will do with him as you wish," said Latigid. "Leave him as he is until I decide," said Arthur, gloating. "Zaphod broke into a sob and Marvin broke into the Death March to cheer Zaphod up. The procession entered a long tunnel which Arthur failed to gauge accurately and subsequently remembered this by having to endure a bump on the head and the accompanying pain. The tunnel emerged into a large open air amphitheatre packed with Stavromulans. Marvin's bearers literally collapsed with joy as they reached the stage. "Don't apologise," said Marvin, knowing full well they had no intention of doing so. "I expect to be thrown about. It's all part of life." He was barely heard over the roars of the crowd as Arthur was introduced. "Look," argued Zaphod. "The crowd have got what they want. Why don't you let me go?" Latigid was unimpressed. "Your arguments have become stale and boring." "Stale, me?" Zaphod protested. "I'm so fresh my sell by date is light years away. By nunk, Arthur, I'll get you for this." Arthur wasn't listening. He was devouring all the adulation being thrust upon him. He walked to the front of the stage and held his arms out. This inspired more hysterical cheers from the crowd. He cleared his throat to speak and a sudden hush fell over the crowd. "People," he started. He felt it was a strong opening seeing as he had no insight into their culture. They hung on his every word. "I am Arthur Dent." Screams went up from the crowd but this time as a result of the robots from Sirius appearing around the top of the amphitheatre. The place emptied like a train full of lemmings at the White Cliffs of Dover. "We've caught up with you again," said Jeremy. "It wasn't even a good chase this time. You killed off our scouts, which was a bit unsporting and you waited here for us. I think you've lost interest, so if you can't be bothered, we'll just kill you. What is that robot doing with you?" "I am not just 'that robot', thank you very much," snorted Marvin. "You obviously have no conception of who I am." He paused to beg the question, then started again so soon as Jeremy began to speak. "I am your prototype, Marvin." The robots were stunned and amazed. "We were told you had been kidnapped." "What's the point of kidnapping me. Nobody wants me. I just ended up going along for the ride. Enough of that, why haven't you given me the android salute, I am your superior." The robots looked at each other, confused. "You stick you left arm in the right ear of the robot next to you. Didn't they programme you anything?" The robots obliged, exploded and lit up the Stavromulan sky with a firework display to rival the space battle seen but an hour before. "Almost as stupid as you lot," muttered Marvin. CHAPTER 62 The Stavromulans helped to repair the Heart of Gold and agreed to let Arthur go to Zaphod's wedding to give Trillian away on the provision that he didn't stay away as long as he did before. The emergency back up improbability drive generator was hooked up using the old atomic vector plotter held together with Arthur's dressing gown cord, even though he had offered to get them home by clicking his heals together twice. Ford got on the Sub Etha radio and relayed the co-ordinates of the entry route to Sirius to Etats and Dilos on Eccentrica Gallumbits' planet. Even though they were legless, they still managed to relay the message Universe-wide. Within hours, Sirius was overrun by consumers. The Marketing Division were put up against a wall and shot, strategic planning experts were brought in and the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation became a co-operative of the people. The revolution had arrived, two weeks before a rival company put in a bid, making a fortune for the co-operative. Wealth in the Universe was great for merchandising, causing a slight delay in plans. The scene was set for a perfect wedding. CHAPTER 63 Arthur charged around in a panic. Fenchurch charged after him in a beautiful dress. Her intention was to get him into morning dress. She had found a do-it-yourself mode on the Tailormatic and although the machine protested, she produced an acceptable morning suit. Arthur was worried about what he had to do to give Trillian away. Fenchurch was worried about Arthur going out without any clothes on. "Where's Ford?" He cried. "He must know." "Arthur, will you put your clothes on," ordered Fenchurch. "What? Oh, alright, but I'm not going out unless I know what I've got to do," sulked Arthur. "You'll really enjoy yourself," said Fenchurch, pulling his trousers up. "I'll be there to give you support." She didn't realise that Arthur would be wearing a support. Trillian came in the room, looking incredible. If Arthur wasn't so in love with Fenchurch, he would have asked Trillian to give up Zaphod and run away with him. "You look lovely, Trillian," he said instead. "What a beautiful dress," said Fenchurch. It was indeed, beautiful. Every cut, stitch and hem was beautiful. The whole dress radiated beauty and tanned Arthur. "The Tailormatic ran it up," said Trillian. "It is rather nice." "Trillian, what have I got to do?" Asked Arthur. "I'm worried stiff in case I mess up your big day." "Don't worry," said Trillian. "Just wear this." She held out a grey cummerbund. Arthur took it and put it on. "That doesn't really put my mind at rest," said Arthur. "It's a gravity support harness," explained Trillian. "All you have to do is take your place next to Fenchurch after you land." "Land?" Said Fenchurch. "We fly down to the altar," said Trillian. "I didn't know you could fly," said Arthur. "I don't need to," said Trillian. "I've got a gravity support harness as well. A team of marriage technicians handles all the moves for us. All we've got to do is relax and enjoy it." Arthur couldn't relax and was sure he wasn't going to enjoy himself. He was standing by the control room with Trillian. They technicians were sitting in front of an overwhelming bank of controls and monitor screens. "Check on one, cue three for laser entry sequence." "Magnetic field generator operational." "All vocal Octogrids locked into octophonic harmonic positions." "Audience cameras homed in and ready to roll." "Red leader to base, I've been hit." "Bride and monkey in position." Arthur came away. "Are you ready?" Asked Trillian, holding Arthur's hand. "Ready for what?" Said Arthur. "I can't tell whether they're planning a wedding or a rock concert." "I think it's a bit of both," grinned Trillian. "You know Zaphod. He's hired in a team of crying groupies to make me feel lucky." "He doesn't deserve you," said Arthur. "Tell him that," said Trillian. "He's giving me an entry in the Guide as the luckiest woman in the Universe." A large, ugly creature beckoned them towards him. His hat declared he was a veteran of a Disaster Area tour. "The eyes of the Universe are now watching," he said with a far away look in his eye. The other eye was watching for the cue. He stood holding a curtain closed. A magnificent noise came from the other side. A green light flashed above the curtain. "You're on!" He opened the curtain and pushed them out. They floated in a massive, black arena. They were high in the air and in the distance could make out a platform supporting the specially invited guests. Spotlights picked out Arthur and Trillian as a 640 strong vocal choir burst into glorious song. Arthur looked around for the choir but couldn't see them. The Octogrid Vocal Choir was there in voice if not in body. The Octogrid Vocal Choir was the most successful choir in the Universe. They contained the best voices ever heard. That was because some bright spark, called Ip, thought what a waste it was when singers died and so indulged in some grave digging. He rescued the vocal chords of some great singers and stretched them across an octagonal shaped grid. He used a computer to stretch and contract the grid and spun the grid on its axis so air passed through the vocal chords to create sound. Ip built up his collection until he had enough to create eight grids of eighty voices and created an octophonic choir. This was fine until it was found that one singer had copyrighted his voice, which prevented it's use after the owner's death. A long, arduous and extremely profitable (for the lawyers) court case followed which eventually ended up being settled out of court by murdering the lawyers. The copyright firm signed up the choir, giving Ip a massive settlement, which he used to put himself through Law School and later successfully sued the School for malpractice. The Octogrids had been bordered by reflective strips, which caught the spotlights and scattered them all over. Suddenly, Arthur and Trillian took flight and flew around the arena at a frightening speed. Lighting gantries exploded into light and the choir spun themselves into a frenzy. Arthur and Trillian dive bombed the platform and landed with great delicacy besides Zaphod. "Nice entrance," he whispered. "You should have been here for mine." The lights dimmed and the choir settled down a bit. From above a shower of diamond shaped metal plates came down, the spotlights dancing through them. The plates stopped above the platform, held there by a magnetic field. The technicians tweeked the field generator and the plates revolved. Lasers burst out from nowhere into the magnetic field, deflecting everywhere. It put even the largest glitterball to shame. The choir whipped themselves up again as a priest floated down in front of the altar. They reached an orgasm of sound (you had to be there) and fell silent. Cameras locked in on the priest as he beckoned the couple forward. "Well?" He said. "Okay." Said Trillian. "Why not." Followed Zaphod. The choir erupted again as did the lights and the lasers. The ceremony was over. CHAPTER 64 The reception was a loud, brash affair at Zaphod's home. The swimming pool was filled with Old Janx Spirit and Ford was one of the first to dive in. Bolo dived in to save him when he tried to drain the pool orally. Arthur and Fenchurch stood by the food, trying to identify something that looked appetising and edible. It was a long fruitless search. "I wouldn't say it was the most romantic wedding I've ever been to," said Arthur. "It was certainly one of the best gigs I've been to," laughed Fenchurch. "Still, I suppose the priest could do it another way, if you asked him," said Arthur. "Probably." "Not that I was thinking of asking him." "Of course not." Arthur looked deeply into a Kopwilsilus dip. "Arthur, let's get married." Arthur looked up. "What? Why did you have to say that?" "It seemed like you were having trouble." "You've ruined all my plans, I was just building up to a big speech." Arthur looked back at the dip, which seemed to look back. "I'm sorry, pretend I never said it." "Well it's a bit difficult now." "Arthur, ask me." "Fenchurch, will you marry me?" "I'll have to think about it." Arthur picked up the dip in mock anger "I've thought about it. I will." "I'll get the priest." "I don't want to get married here, I want to get married on Earth." "But that's omps away from here." "Well I'm sure Zaphod or Ford will lend you a towel and you've still got your copy of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. We can leave after the party." She paused. "You know, I'm really getting into this hitch-hiking lark." THE END PROLOGUE Space, like a second sentence, can be big, confusing and needs going through twice to really understand it. One of the few ways to comprehend how big space can be, is to be subjected to the total perspective vortex, but as this usually leads to death unless your ego is as large as say, Zaphod Beeblebrox's, it is just as well to accept everyone's word that it is. Distances can therefore become ridiculously large, large enough for those tired with light years (and the enormous slide rules needed to calculate in light years) to invent new, exciting words for inexorably large distances. A Kirpcatorno is now widely accepted as a pretty long way (say 23474 to the power of the collective ages of those at a reasonably successful party) and an 'Omp' is about twice as far as a 'Kirpcatorno. However, to prevent distances getting too conceited about their sizes, ships such as the Heart of Gold or the Starship Bistromath were designed to sprint through space fast enough to make distances go into a corner and sulk. So for Arthur Dent to say 'We must be in Zaphod Beeblebrox's neighbourhood' when it is, in fact, 36 omps away, is not entirely unreasonable for a good hitchhiker. To recap, Arthur Dent, having found a wonderful companion in Fenchurch (that being her name, not the place) had visited God's last message to his creation, only to have Marvin die in his arms. Ford Prefect had resumed his job as a researcher for that truly wonderful book, The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, with new vigour and was probably skulking around some seedy bar trying to talk somebody into buying him a drink. Zaphod Beeblebrox had settled down with Trillian to raise kids and have a peaceful time not saving the Universe. In fact, although saving the Universe again was the furthest thought from all their minds (about 421 omps), it was preparing to renew its acquaintance with them quite shortly. Converted to PRC: rml@iconn.com.ph - Ronald Lachenal 9.27.99