ADAMS, Douglas - Mostly Harmless Read online

`Probability axis?'

  `Yes. Where it hasn't been blown up. OK. So you're the

  Guide. How do we get a lift?'

  `Reverse engineering.'

  `What?'

  `Reverse engineering. To me the flow of time is irrelevant.

  You decide what you want. I then merely make sure that it has

  already happened.'

  `You're joking.'

  `Anything is possible.'

  Random frowned. `You are joking aren't you?'

  `Let me put it another way,' said the bird. `Reverse engineering

  enables us to shortcut all the business of waiting for one of the

  horribly few spaceships that passes through your galactic sector

  every year or so to make up its mind about whether or not it

  feels like giving you a lift. You want a lift a ship arrives and

  gives you one. The pilot may think he has any one of a million

  reasons why he has decided to stop and pick you up. The real

  reason is that I have determined that he will.'

  `This is you being extremely vain isn't it, little bird?'

  The bird was silent.

  `OK,' said Random. `I want a ship to take me to Earth.'

  `Will this one do?'

  It was so silent that Random had not noticed the descending

  spaceship until it was nearly on top of her.

  Arthur had noticed it. He was a mile away now and closing. Just

  after the illuminated sausage display had drawn to its conclusion

  he had noticed the faint glimmerings of further lights coming

  down out of the clouds and had, to begin with, assumed it to

  be another piece of flashy son et lumiere.

  It took a moment or so for it to dawn on him that it was

  an actual spaceship, and a moment or two longer for him to

  realise that it was dropping directly down to where he assumed

  his daughter to be. That was when, rain or no rain, leg injury

  or no leg injury, darkness or no darkness, he suddenly started

  really to run.

  He fell almost immediately, slid and hurt his knee quite badly

  on a rock. He slithered back up to his feet and tried again. He

  had a horrible cold feeling that he was about to lose Random

  for ever. Limping and cursing, he ran. He didn't know what it

  was that had been in the box, but the name on it had been Ford

  Prefect, and that was the name he cursed as he ran.

  The ship was one of the sexiest and most beautiful ones that

  Random had ever seen.

  It was astounding. Silver, sleek, ineffable.

  If she didn't know better she would have said it was an RW6.

  As it settled silently beside her she realised that it actually was

  an RW6 and she could scarcely breathe for excitement. An RW6

  was the sort of thing you only saw in the sort of magazines that

  were designed to provoke civil unrest.

  She was also extremely nervous. The manner and timing of

  its arrival was deeply unsettling. Either it was the most bizarre

  coincidence or something very peculiar and worrying was going

  on. She waited a little tensely for the ship's hatch to open. Her

  Guide - she thought of it as hers now - was hovering lightly over

  her right shoulder, its wings barely fluttering.

  The hatch opened. Just a little dim light escaped. A moment

  or two passed and a figure emerged. He stood still for a moment

  or so, obviously trying to accustom his eyes to the darkness.

  Then he caught sight of Random standing there, and seemed a

  little surprised. He started to walk towards her. Then suddenly

  he shouted in surprise and started to run at her.

  Random was not a good person to take a run at on a

  dark night when she was feeling a little strung out. She had

  unconsciously been fingering the rock in her pocket from the

  moment she saw the craft coming down.

  Still running, slithering, hurtling, bumping into trees, Arthur

  saw at last that he was too late. The ship had only been on the

  ground for about three minutes, and now, silently, gracefully it

  was rising up above the trees again, turning smoothly in the fine

  speckle of rain to which the storm had now abated, climbing,

  climbing, tipping up its nose and, suddenly, effortlessly, hurtling

  up through the clouds.

  Gone. Random was in it. It was impossible for Arthur to

  know this, but he just went ahead and knew it anyway. She was

  gone. He had had his stint at being a parent and could scarcely

  believe how badly he had done at it. He tried to continue run-

  ning, but his feet were dragging, his knee was hurting like fury

  and he knew that he was too late.

  He could not conceive that he could feel more wretched

  and awful than this, but he was wrong.

  He limped his way at last to the cave where Random had

  sheltered and opened the box. The ground bore the indentations

  of the spacecraft that had landed there only minutes before, but

  of Random there was no sign. He wandered disconsolately into

  the cave, found the empty box and piles of missing matter pellets

  strewn around the place. He felt a little cross about that. He'd

  tried to teach her about cleaning up after herself. Feeling a bit

  cross with her about something like that helped him feel less

  desolate about her leaving. He knew he had no means of finding

  her.

  His foot knocked against something unexpected. He bent

  down to pick it up, and was thoroughly surprised to discover

  what it was. It was his old Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

  How did that come to be in the cave? He had never returned

  to collect it from the scene of the crash. He had not wanted to

  revisit the crash and he had not wanted the Guide again. He had

  reckoned he was here on Lamuella, making sandwiches for good.

  How did it come to be in the cave? It was active. The words on

  the cover flashed DON'T PANIC at him.

  He went out of the cave again into the dim and damp

  moonlight. He sat on a rock to have a look through the old

  Guide, and then discovered it wasn't a rock, it was a person.

  18

  Arthur leapt to his feet with a start of fear. It would be

  hard to say which he was more frightened of: that he. might

  have hurt the person he had inadvertently sat on or that the

  person he had inadvertently sat on would hurt him back.

  There seemed, on inspection, to be little immediate cause for

  alarm on the second count. Whoever it was he had sat on was

  unconscious. That would probably go a great deal of the way

  towards explaining what he was doing lying there. He seemed to

  be breathing OK, though. Arthur felt his pulse. That was OK as

  well.

  He was lying on his side, half curled up. It was so long ago

  and far away when Arthur had last done First Aid that he really

  couldn't remember what it was he was supposed to do. The first

  thing he was supposed to do, he remembered, was to have a First

  Aid kit about his person. Damn.

  Should he roll him on to his back or not? Suppose he had

  any broken bones? Suppose he swallowed his tongue? Suppose

  he sued him? Who, apart from anything else, was he?

  At that moment the unconscious man groaned loudly and

  rolled himself over.
>
  Arthur wondered if he should -

  He looked at him.

  He looked at him again.

  He looked at him again, just to make absolutely sure.

  Despite the fact that he had been thinking he was feeling

  about as low as he possibly could, he experienced a terrible

  sinking feeling.

  The figure groaned again and slowly opened his eyes. It

  took him a while to focus, then he blinked and stiffened.

  `You!' said Ford Prefect.

  `You!' said Arthur Dent.

  Ford groaned again.

  `What do you need to have explained this time?' he said,

  and closed his eyes in some kind of despair.

  Five minutes later he was sitting up and rubbing the side

  of his head, where he had quite a large swelling.

  `Who the hell was that woman?' he said. `Why are we sur-

  rounded by squirrels, and what do they want?'

  `I've been pestered by squirrels all night,' said Arthur. `They

  keep on trying to give me magazines and stuff.'

  Ford frowned. `Really?' he said.

  `And bits of rag.'

  Ford thought.

  `Oh,' he said. `Is this near where your ship crashed?'

  `Yes,' said Arthur. He said it a little tightly.

  `That's probably it. Can happen. Ship's cabin robots get

  destroyed. The cyberminds that control them survive and start

  infesting the local wildlife. Can turn a whole ecosystem into some

  kind of helpless thrashing service industry, handing out hot towels

  and drinks to passers-by. Should be a law against it. Probably is.

  Probably also a law against there being a law against it so every-

  body can get nice and worked up. Hey ho. What did you say?'

  `I said, and the woman is my daughter.'

  Ford stopped rubbing his head.

  `Say that one more time.'

  `I said,' said Arthur huffily, `the woman is my daughter.'

  `I didn't know,' said Ford, `that you had a daughter.'

  `Well, there's probably a lot you don't know about me,'

  said Arthur. `Come to mention it, there's probably a lot I

  don't know about me either.'

  `Well, well, well. When did this happen then?'

  `I'm not quite sure.'

  `That sounds like more familiar territory,' said Ford. `Is there

  a mother involved?'

  `Trillian.'

  `Trillian? I didn't think that...'

  `No. Look, it's a bit embarrassing.'

  `I remember she told me once she had a kid but only, sort

  of, in passing. I'm in touch with her from time to time. Never

  seen her with the kid.'

  Arthur said nothing.

  Ford started to feel the side of his head again in some

  bemusement.

  `Are you sure this was your daughter?' he said.

  `Tell me what happened.'

  `Phroo. Long story. I was coming to pick up this parcel

  I'd sent to myself here care of you...'

  `Well, what was that all about?'

  `I think it may be something unimaginably dangerous.'

  `And you sent it to me?' protested Arthur.

  `Safest place I could think of. I thought I could rely on you

  to be absolutely boring and not open it. Anyway, coming in at

  night I couldn't find this village place. I was going by pretty basic

  information. I couldn't find any signal of any kind. I guess you

  don't have signals and stuff here.'

  `That's what I like about it.'

  `Then I did pick up a faint signal from your old copy of the

  Guide, so I homed in on that, thinking that would take me to

  you. I found I'd landed in some kind of wood. Couldn't figure

  out what was going on. I get out, and then see this woman

  standing there. I go up to say hello, then suddenly I see that

  she's got this thing!'

  `What thing?'

  `The thing I sent you! The new Guide! The bird thing! You

  were meant to keep it safe, you idiot, but this woman had the

  thing right there by her shoulder. I ran forward and she hit me

  with a rock.'

  `I see,' said Arthur. `What did you do?'

  `Well, I fell over of course. I was very badly hurt. She and

  the bird started to make off towards my ship. And when I say

  my ship, I mean an RW6.'

  `A what?'

  `An RW6 for Zark's sake. I've got this great relationship

  going now between my credit card and the Guide's central

  computer. You would not believe that ship, Arthur, it's...'

  `So an RW6 is a spaceship, then?'

  `Yes! It's - oh never mind. Look, just get some kind of

  grip will you, Arthur? Or at least get some kind of catalogue.

  At this point I was very worried. And, I think, semi-concussed.

  I was down on my knees and bleeding profusely, so I did the

  only thing I could think of, which was to beg. I said, please for

  Zark's sake don't take my ship. And don't leave me stranded in

  the middle of some primitive zarking forest with no medical help

  and a head injury. I could be in serious trouble and so could she.'

  `What did she say?'

  `She hit me on the head with the rock again.'

  `I think I can confirm that that was my daughter.'

  `Sweet kid.'

  `You have to get to know her,' said Arthur.

  `She eases up does she?'

  `No,' said Arthur, `but you get a better sense of when to duck.'

  Ford held his head and tried to see straight.

  The sky was beginning to lighten in the west, which was

  where the sun rose. Arthur didn't particularly want to see

  it. The last thing he wanted after a hellish night like this

  one was some blasted day coming along and barging about the

  place.

  `What are you doing in a place like this, Arthur?' demanded

  Ford.

  `Well,' said Arthur, `making sandwiches mostly.'

  `What?'

  `I am, probably was, the sandwich maker for a small tribe. It

  was a bit embarrassing really. When I first arrived, that is, when

  they rescued me from the wreckage of this super high-technology

  spacecraft which had crashed on their planet, they were very nice

  to me and I thought I should help them out a bit. You know, I'm

  an educated chap from a high-technology culture, I could show

  them a thing or two. And of course I couldn't. I haven't got the

  faintest idea, when it comes down to it, of how anything actually

  works. I don't mean like video-recorders, nobody knows how to

  work those. I mean just something like a pen or an artesian well

  or something. Not the foggiest. I couldn't help at all. One day

  I got glum and made myself a sandwich. That suddenly got

  them all excited. They'd never seen one before. It was just

  an idea that had never occurred to them, and I happen to

  quite like making sandwiches, so it all sort of developed from

  there.'

  `And you enjoyed that?'

  `Well, yes, I think I sort of did, really. Getting a good

  set of knives, that sort of thing.'

  `You didn't, for instance, find it mind-witheringly, explosively,

  astoundingly, blisteringly dull?'

  `Well, er, no. Not as such. Not actually blisteringly.'

  `Odd. I would.'

  `Well, I suppose we have a different outlook.'

  `Yes.'

  `Like the pikka birds.'

>   Ford had no idea what he was talking about and couldn't

  be bothered to ask. Instead he said, `So how the hell do we

  get out of this place?'

  `Well I think the simplest way from here is just to follow the

  way down the valley to the plains, probably take an hour, and

  then walk round from there. I don't think I could face going

  back up and over the way I came.'

  `Walk round where from there?'

  `Well, back to the village. I suppose.' Arthur sighed a little

  forlornly.

  `I don't want to go to any blasted village!' snapped Ford.

  `We've got to get out of here!'

  `Where? How?'

  `I don't know, you tell me. You live here! There must be

  some way off this zarking planet.'

  `I don't know. What do you usually do? Sit around and

  wait for a passing spacecraft, I suppose.'

  `Oh yes? And how many spacecraft have visited this zark-

  forsaken little fleapit recently?'