Life, the Universe and Everything

Though his throat was sore again from his early morning yell of horror, he was suddenly in a terrifically good mood. He wrapped his dilapidated dressing gown tightly around him and beamed at the bright morning.

The air was clear and scented, the breeze flitted lightly through the tall grass around his cave, the birds were chirruping at each other, the butterflies were flitting about prettily, and the whole of nature seemed to be conspiring to be as pleasant as it possibly could.

It wasn’t all the pastoral delights that were making Arthur feel so cheery, though. He had just had a wonderful idea about how to cope with the terrible lonely isolation, the nightmares, the failure of all his attempts at horticulture, and the sheer futurelessness and futility of his life here on prehistoric Earth, which was that he would go mad.

He beamed again and took a bite out of a rabbit leg left over from his supper. He chewed happily for a few moments and then decided formally to announce his decision.

He stood up straight and looked the world squarely in the fields and hills. To add weight to his words he stuck the rabbit bone in his hair. He spread his arms out wide.

– I will go mad! - he announced.

– Good idea, - said Ford Prefect, clambering down from the rock on which he had been sitting.

Arthur’s brain somersaulted. His jaw did press-ups.

– I went mad for a while, - said Ford, - did me no end of good.

– You see, - said Ford, -…

– Where have you been? - interrupted Arthur, now that his head had finished working out.

– Around, - said Ford, - around and about. - He grinned in what he accurately judged to be an infuriating manner. - I just took my mind off the hook for a bit. I reckoned that if the world wanted me badly enough it would call back. It did.

He took out of his now terribly battered and dilapidated satchel his Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic.

– At least, - he said, - I think it did. This has been playing up a bit. - He shook it. - If it was a false alarm I shall go mad, - he said, - again.

Arthur shook his head and sat down. He looked up.

– I thought you must be dead… - he said simply.

– So did I for a while, - said Ford, - and then I decided I was a lemon for a couple of weeks. A kept myself amused all that time jumping in and out of a gin and tonic.

Arthur cleared his throat, and then did it again.

– Where, - he said, - did you?…

– Find a gin and tonic? - said Ford brightly. - I found a small lake that thought it was a gin and tonic, and jumped in and out of that. At least, I think it thought it was a gin and tonic.

– I may, - he added with a grin which would have sent sane men scampering into trees, - have been imagining it.

He waited for a reaction from Arthur, but Arthur knew better than that.

– Carry on, - he said levelly.

– The point is, you see, - said Ford, - that there is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later.

– And this is you sane again, is it? - said Arthur. - I ask merely for information.

– I went to Africa, - said Ford.

– Yes?

– Yes.

– What was that like?

– And this is your cave, is it? - said Ford.

– Er, yes, - said Arthur. He felt very strange. After nearly four years of total isolation he was so pleased and relieved to see Ford that he could almost cry. Ford was, on the other hand, an almost immediately annoying person.

– Very nice, - said Ford, in reference to Arthur’s cave. - You must hate it.

Arthur didn’t bother to reply.

– Africa was very interesting, - said Ford, - I behaved very oddly there.

He gazed thoughtfully into the distance.

– I took up being cruel to animals, - he said airily. - But only, - he added, - as a hobby.

– Oh yes, - said Arthur, warily.

– Yes, - Ford assured him. - I won’t disturb you with the details because they would.

– What?

– Disturb you. But you may be interested to know that I am singlehandedly responsible for the evolved shape of the animal you came to know in later centuries as a giraffe. And I tried to learn to fly. Do you believe me?

– Tell me, - said Arthur.

– I’ll tell you later. I’ll just mention that the Guide says…

– The?…

– Guide. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You remember?

– Yes. I remember throwing it in the river.

– Yes, - said Ford, - but I fished it out.

– You didn’t tell me.

– I didn’t want you to throw it in again.

– Fair enough, - admitted Arthur. - It says?

– What?

– The Guide says?

– The Guide says there is an art to flying, - said Ford, - or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. - He smiled weakly. He pointed at the knees of his trousers and held his arms up to show the elbows. They were all torn and worn through.

– I haven’t done very well so far, - he said. He stuck out his hand. - I’m very glad to see you again, Arthur, - he added.

Arthur shook his head in a sudden access of emotion and bewilderment.