The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

There did, however, remain the question of both the mysterious 60,000 Altairan dollars paid yearly into his Brantisvogan bank account, and of course Zaphod Beeblebrox’s highly profitable second-hand biro business.

Arthur read this, and put the book down.

The robot still sat there, completely inert.

Arthur got up and walked to the top of the crater. He walked around the crater. He watched two suns set magnificently over Magrathea.

He went back down into the crater. He woke the robot up because even a manically depressed robot is better to talk to than nobody.

“Night’s falling,” he said. “Look robot, the stars are coming out.”

From the heart of a dark nebula it is possible to see very few stars, and only very faintly, but they were there to be seen.

The robot obediently looked at them, then looked back.

“I know,” he said. “Wretched isn’t it?”

“But that sunset! I’ve never seen anything like it in my wildest dreams… the two suns! It was like mountains of fire boiling into space.”

“I’ve seen it,” said Marvin. “It’s rubbish.”

“We only ever had the one sun at home,” persevered Arthur, “I came from a planet called Earth you know.”

“I know,” said Marvin, “you keep going on about it. It sounds awful.”

“Ah no, it was a beautiful place.”

“Did it have oceans?”

“Oh yes,” said Arthur with a sigh, “great wide rolling blue oceans…”

“Can’t bear oceans,” said Marvin.

“Tell me,” inquired Arthur, “do you get on well with other robots?”

“Hate them,” said Marvin. “Where are you going?”

Arthur couldn’t bear any more. He had got up again.

“I think I’ll just take another walk,” he said.

“Don’t blame you,” said Marvin and counted five hundred and ninety-seven thousand million sheep before falling asleep again a second later.

Arthur slapped his arms about himself to try and get his circulation a little more enthusiastic about its job. He trudged back up the wall of the crater.

Because the atmosphere was so thin and because there was no moon, nightfall was very rapid and it was by now very dark. Because of this, Arthur practically walked into the old man before he noticed him.

Chapter 22

He was standing with his back to Arthur watching the very last glimmers of light sink into blackness behind the horizon. He was tallish, elderly and dressed in a single long grey robe. When he turned his face was thin and distinguished, careworn but not unkind, the sort of face you would happily bank with. But he didn’t turn yet, not even to react to Arthur’s yelp of surprise.

Eventually the last rays of the sun had vanished completely, and he turned. His face was still illuminated from somewhere, and when Arthur looked for the source of the light he saw that a few yards away stood a small craft of some kind—a small hovercraft, Arthur guessed. It shed a dim pool of light around it.

The man looked at Arthur, sadly it seemed.

“You choose a cold night to visit our dead planet,” he said.

“Who… who are you?” stammered Arthur.

The man looked away. Again a kind of sadness seemed to cross his face.

“My name is not important,” he said.

He seemed to have something on his mind. Conversation was clearly something he felt he didn’t have to rush at. Arthur felt awkward.

“I… er… you startled me…” he said, lamely.

The man looked round to him again and slightly raised his eyebrows.

“Hmmmm?” he said.

“I said you startled me.”

“Do not be alarmed, I will not harm you.”

Arthur frowned at him. “But you shot at us! There were missiles…” he said.

The man chuckled slightly.

“An automatic system,” he said and gave a small sigh. “Ancient computers ranged in the bowels of the planet tick away the dark millennia, and the ages hang heavy on their dusty data banks. I think they take the occasional pot shot to relieve the monotony.”

He looked gravely at Arthur and said, “I’m a great fan of science you know.”

“Oh… er, really?” said Arthur, who was beginning to find the man’s curious, kindly manner disconcerting.

“Oh, yes,” said the old man, and simply stopped talking again.

“Ah,” said Arthur, “er…” He had an odd felling of being like a man in the act of adultery who is surprised when the woman’s husband wanders into the room, changes his trousers, passes a few idle remarks about the weather and leaves again.

“You seem ill at ease,” said the old man with polite concern.

“Er, no… well, yes. Actually you see, we weren’t really expecting to find anybody about in fact. I sort of gathered that you were all dead or something…”

“Dead?” said the old man. “Good gracious me no, we have but slept.”

“Slept?” said Arthur incredulously.

“Yes, through the economic recession you see,” said the old man, apparently unconcerned about whether Arthur understood a word he was talking about or not.

“Er, economic recession?”

“Well you see, five million years ago the Galactic economy collapsed, and seeing that custom-made planets are something of a luxury commodity you see…”

He paused and looked at Arthur.

“You know we built planets do you?” he asked solemnly.

“Well yes,” said Arthur, “I’d sort of gathered…”