The lever snapped off. The ship twisted sharply and rocketed upward. The crew were hurled violently back across the cabin. Ford’s copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy smashed into another section of the control console with the combined result that the Guide started to explain to anyone who cared to listen about the best ways of smuggling Antarean parakeet glands out of Antares (an Antarean parakeet gland stuck on a small stick is a revolting but much-sought-after cocktail delicacy and very large sums of money are often paid for them by very rich idiots who want to impress other very rich idiots), and the ship suddenly dropped out of the sky like a stone.
It was of course more or less at this moment that one of the crew sustained a nasty bruise to the upper arm. This should be emphasized because, as has already been revealed, they escape otherwise completely unharmed and the deadly nuclear missiles do not eventually hit the ship. The safety of the crew is absolutely assured.
“Impact minus twenty seconds, guys …” said the computer.
“Then turn the bloody engines back on!” bawled Zaphod.
“Oh, sure thing, guys,” said the computer. With a subtle roar the engines cut back in, the ship smoothly flattened out of its dive and headed back toward the missiles again.
The computer started to sing.
“ ‘When you walk through the storm …’ ” it whined nasally, “ ‘hold your head up high…’ ”
Zaphod screamed at it to shut up, but his voice was lost in the din of what they quite naturally assumed was approaching destruction.
“ ‘And don’t … be afraid … of the dark!’ ” Eddie wailed.
The ship, in flattening out, had in fact flattened out upside down and lying on the ceiling as they were it was now totally impossible for any of the crew to reach the guidance systems.
“ ‘At the end of the storm …’ ” crooned Eddie.
The two missiles loomed massively on the screens as they thundered toward the ship.
“ ‘is a golden sky …’ ”
But by an extraordinarily lucky chance they had not yet fully corrected their flight paths to that of the erratically weaving ship, and they passed right under it.
“ ‘And the sweet silver song of the lark’…. Revised impact time fifteen seconds, fellas.… ‘Walk on through the wind…’ ”
The missiles banked round in a screeching arc and plunged back in pursuit.
“This is it,” said Arthur watching them. “We are now quite definitely going to die, aren’t we?”
“I wish you’d stop saying that,” shouted Ford.
“Well, we are, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“ ‘Walk on through the rain …’ ” sang Eddie.
A thought struck Arthur. He struggled to his feet.
“Why doesn’t anyone turn on this Improbability Drive thing?” he said. “We could probably reach that.”
“What are you, crazy?” said Zaphod. “Without proper programming anything could happen.”
“Does that matter at this stage?” shouted Arthur.
“ ‘Though your dreams be tossed and blown …’ ” sang Eddie.
Arthur scrambled up on to one of the excitingly chunky pieces of molded contouring where the curve of the wall met the ceiling.
“ ‘Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart…’ ”
“Does anyone know why Arthur can’t turn on the Improbability Drive?” shouted Trillian.
“ ‘And you’ll never walk alone.’ … Impact minus five seconds, it’s been great knowing you guys, God bless.… ‘You’ll ne … ver … walk … alone!’ ”
“I said,” yelled Trillian, “does anyone know …”
The next thing that happened was a mind-mangling explosion of noise and light.
Chapter 18
And the next thing that happened after that was that the Heart of Gold continued on its way perfectly normally with a rather fetchingly redesigned interior. It was somewhat larger, and done out in delicate pastel shades of green and blue. In the center a spiral staircase, leading nowhere in particular, stood in a spray of ferns and yellow flowers and next to it a stone sundial pedestal housed the main computer terminal. Cunningly deployed lighting and mirrors created the illusion of standing in a conservatory overlooking a wide stretch of exquisitely manicured garden. Around the periphery of the conservatory area stood marble-topped tables on intricately beautiful wrought-iron legs. As you gazed into the polished surface of the marble the vague forms of instruments became visible, and as you touched them the instruments materialized instantly under your hands. Looked at from the correct angles the mirrors appeared to reflect all the required data read-outs, though it was far from clear where they were reflected from. It was in fact sensationally beautiful.
Relaxing in a wickerwork sun chair, Zaphod Beeblebrox said, “What the hell happened?”
“Well, I was just saying,” said Arthur lounging by a small fish pool, “there’s this Improbability Drive switch over here …” he waved at where it had been. There was a potted plant there now.
“But where are we?” said Ford, who was sitting on the spiral staircase, a nicely chilled Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster in his hand.
“Exactly where we were, I think …” said Trillian, as all about them the mirrors suddenly showed them an image of the blighted landscape of Magrathea, which still scooted along beneath them.
Zaphod leaped out of his seat.
“Then what’s happened to the missiles?” he said.
A new and astounding image appeared in the mirrors.
“They would appear,” said Ford doubtfully, “to have turned into a bowl of petunias and a very surprised-looking whale …”
“At an Improbability factor,” cut in Eddie, who hadn’t changed a bit, “of eight million, seven hundred and sixty-seven thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight to one against.”
Zaphod stared at Arthur.
“Did you think of that, Earthman?” he demanded.
“Well,” said Arthur, “all I did was …”
“That’s very good thinking, you know. Turn on the Improbability Drive for a second without first activating the proofing screens. Hey, kid, you just saved our lives, you know that?”
“Oh,” said Arthur, “well, it was nothing really.…”
“Was it?” said Zaphod. “Oh well, forget it then. Okay, computer, take us in to land.”
“But …”
“I said forget it.”
Another thing that got forgotten was the fact that against all probability a sperm whale had suddenly been called into existence several miles above the surface of an alien planet.
And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale any more.
This is a complete record of its thought from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it.
Ah …! What’s happening? it thought.
Er, excuse me, who am I?
Hello?
Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life?
What do I mean by who am I?
Calm down, get a grip now … oh! this is an interesting sensation, what is it? It’s a sort of … yawning, tingling sensation in my … my …well, I suppose I’d better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let’s call it my stomach.
Good. Ooooh, it’s getting quite strong. And hey, what about this whistling roaring sound going past what I’m suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that … wind! Is that a good name? It’ll do … perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I’ve found out what it’s for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What’s this thing? This … let’s call it a tail—yeah, tail. Hey! I can really thrash it about pretty good, can’t I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn
No.
Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I’m quite dizzy with anticipation …
Or is it the wind?
There really is a lot of that now, isn’t there?
And wow! Hey! What’s this thing suddenly coming toward me very fast? Very, very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide-sounding name like … ow … ound … round … ground! That’s it! That’s a good name—ground!
I wonder if it will be friends with me?
And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.
Curiously enough, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell was Oh no, not again. Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the Universe than we do now.
Chapter 19
Are we taking this robot with us?” said Ford, looking with distaste at Marvin, who was standing in an awkward hunched posture in the corner under a small palm tree. Zaphod glanced away from the mirror screens which presented a panoramic view of the blighted landscape on which the Heart of Gold had now landed.
“Oh, the Paranoid Android,” he said. “Yeah, we’ll take him.”
“But what are you supposed to do with a manically depressed robot?”
“You think you’ve got problems,” said Marvin, as if he was addressing a newly occupied coffin, “what are you supposed to do if you are a manically depressed robot? No, don’t bother to answer that, I’m fifty thousand times more intelligent than you and even I don’t know the answer. It gives me a headache just trying to think down to your level.”
Trillian burst in through the door from her cabin.
“My white mice have escaped!” she said.
An expression of deep worry and concern failed to cross either of Zaphod’s faces.
“Nuts to your white mice,” he said.
Trillian glared an upset glare at him, and disappeared again.
It is possible that her remark would have commanded greater attention had it been generally realized that human beings were only the third most intelligent life form present on the planet Earth, instead of (as was generally thought by most independent observers) the second.
“Good afternoon, boys.”
The voice was oddly familiar, but oddly different. It had a matriarchal twang. It announced itself to the crew as they arrived at the airlock hatchway that would let them out on the planet surface.
They looked at each other in puzzlement.
“It’s the computer,” explained Zaphod. “I discovered it had an emergency back-up personality that I thought might work out better.”
“Now this is going to be your first day out on a strange new planet,” continued Eddie’s new voice, “so I want you all wrapped up snug and warm, and no playing with any naughty bug-eyed monsters.”
Zaphod tapped impatiently on the hatch.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I think we might be better off with a slide rule.”
“Right!” snapped the computer. “Who said that?”
“Will you open up the exit hatch, please, computer?” said Zaphod, trying not to get angry.
“Not until whoever said that owns up,” urged the computer, stamping a few synapses closed.
“Oh God,” muttered Ford, slumped against a bulkhead. He started to count to ten. He was desperately worried that one day sentient life forms would forget how to do this. Only by counting could humans demonstrate their independence of computers.
“Come on,” said Eddie sternly.
“Computer …” began Zaphod.
“I’m waiting,” interrupted Eddie. “I can wait all day if necessary.…”
“Computer …” said Zaphod again, who had been trying to think of some subtle piece of reasoning to put the computer down with, and had decided not to bother competing with it on its own ground, “if you don’t open that exit hatch this moment I shall zap straight off to your major data banks and reprogram you with a very large ax, got that?”
Eddie, shocked, paused and considered this.
Ford carried on counting quietly. This is about the most aggressive thing you can do to a computer, the equivalent of going up to a human being and saying Blood … blood … blood … blood…
Finally Eddie said quietly, “I can see this relationship is something we’re all going to have to work at,” and the hatchway opened.
An icy wind ripped into them, they hugged themselves warmly and stepped down the ramp on to the barren dust of Magrathea.
“It’ll all end in tears, I know it,” shouted Eddie after them, and closed the hatchway again.
A few minutes later he opened and closed the hatchway again in response to a command that caught him entirely by surprise.
Chapter 20
Five figures wandered slowly over the blighted land. Bits of it were dullish gray, bits of it dullish brown, the rest of it rather less interesting to look at. It was like a dried-out marsh, now barren of all vegetation and covered with a layer of dust about an inch thick. It was very cold.
Zaphod was clearly rather depressed about it. He stalked off by himself and was soon lost to sight behind a slight rise in the ground.
The wind stung Arthur’s eyes and ears, and the stale thin air clasped his throat. However, the thing that was stung most was his mind.
“It’s fantastic …” he said, and his own voice rattled his ears. Sound carried badly in this thin atmosphere.
“Desolate hole, if you ask me,” said Ford. “I could have more fun in a cat litter.” He felt a mounting irritation. Of all the planets in all the star systems of all the Galaxy—many wild and exotic, seething with life—didn’t he just have to turn up at a dump like this after fifteen years of being a castaway? Not even a hot-dog stand in evidence. He stooped down and picked up a cold clod of earth, but there was nothing underneath it worth crossing thousands of light-years to look at.
“No,” insisted Arthur, “don’t you understand, this is the first time I’ve actually stood on the surface of another planet … a whole alien world …! Pity it’s such a dump though.”
Trillian hugged herself, shivered and frowned. She could have sworn she saw a slight and unexpected movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she glanced in that direction all she could see was the ship, still and silent, a hundred yards or so behind them.
She was relieved when a second or so later they caught sight of Zaphod standing on top of the ridge of ground and waving to them to come and join him.
He seemed to be excited, but they couldn’t clearly hear what he was saying because of the thinnish atmosphere and the wind.
As they approached the ridge of higher ground they became aware that it seemed to be circular—a crater about a hundred and fifty yards wide. Round the outside of the crater the sloping ground was spattered with black and red lumps. They stopped and looked at a piece. It was wet. It was rubbery.
With horror they suddenly realized that it was fresh whalemeat.
At the top of the crater’s lip they met Zaphod.
“Look,” he said, pointing into the crater.
In the center lay the exploded carcass of a lonely sperm whale that hadn’t lived long enough to be disappointed with its lot. The silence was only disturbed by the slight involuntary spasms of Trillian’s throat.
“I suppose there’s no point in trying to bury it?” murmured Arthur, and then wished he hadn’t.
“Come,” said Zaphod, and started back down into the crater.
“What, down there?” said Trillian with severe distaste.
“Yeah,” said Zaphod, “come on, I’ve got something to show you.”
“We can see it,” said Trillian.
“Not that,” said Zaphod, “something else. Come on.”
They all hesitated.
“Come on,” insisted Zaphod, “I’ve found a way in.”
“In?” said Arthur in horror.
“Into the interior of the planet! An underground passage. The force of the whale’s impact cracked it open, and that’s where we have to go. Where no man has trod these five million years, into the very depths of time itself.…”
Marvin started his ironical humming again.
Zaphod hit him and he shut up.
With little shudders of disgust they all followed Zaphod down the incline into the crater, trying very hard to avoid looking at its unfortunate creator.
“Life,” said Marvin dolefully, “loathe it or ignore it, you can’t like it.”
The ground had caved in where the whale had hit it, revealing a network of galleries and passages, now largely obstructed by collapsed rubble and entrails. Zaphod had made a start clearing a way into one of them, but Marvin was able to do it rather faster. Dank air wafted out of its dark recesses, and as Zaphod shone a flashlight into it, little was visible in the dusty gloom.
“According to the legends,” he said, “the Magratheans lived most of their lives underground.”
“Why’s that?” said Arthur. “Did the surface become too polluted or overpopulated?”
“No, I don’t think so,” said Zaphod. “I think they just didn’t like it very much.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” said Trillian, peering nervously into the darkness. “We’ve been attacked once already, you know.”
“Look, kid, I promise you the live population of this planet is nil plus the four of us, so come on, let’s get on in there. Er, hey, Earthman …”
“Arthur,” said Arthur.
“Yeah, could you just sort of keep this robot with you and guard this end of the passageway. Okay?”
“Guard?” said Arthur. “What from? You just said there’s no one here.”
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