The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

“No, wait a minute,” said Ford, emerging above table level again, “where exactly is here?”

“To be absolutely exact sir, it is Frogstar World B.”

“But we just left there,” protested Zaphod, “we left there and came to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.”

“Yes, sir,” said the waiter, feeling that he was now into the home stretch and running well, “the one was constructed on the ruins of the other.”

“Oh,” said Arthur brightly, “you mean we’ve travelled in time but not in space.”

“Listen you semi-evolved simian,” cut in Zaphod, “go climb a tree will you?”

Arthur bristled.

“Go bang your heads together four-eyes,” he advised Zaphod.

“No, no,” the waiter said to Zaphod, “your monkey has got it right, sir.”

Arthur stuttered in fury and said nothing apposite, or indeed coherent.

“You jumped forward… I believe five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years whilst staying in exactly the same place,” explained the waiter. He smiled. He had a wonderful feeling that he had finally won through against what had seemed to be insuperable odds.

“That’s it!” said Zaphod, “I got it. I told the computer to send us to the nearest place to eat, that’s exactly what it did. Give or take five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years, we never moved. Neat.”

They all agreed this was very neat.

“But who,” said Zaphod, “is the cat on the phone?”

“Whatever happened to Marvin?” said Trillian.

Zaphod clapped his hands to his heads.

“The Paranoid Android! I left him moping about on Frogstar B.”

“When was this?”

“Well, er, five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years ago I suppose,” said Zaphod, “Hey, er, hand me the rap-rod, Plate Captain.”

The little waiter’s eyebrows wandered about his forehead in confusion.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” he said.

“The phone, waiter,” said Zaphod, grabbing it off him. “Shee, you guys are so unhip it’s a wonder your bums don’t fall off.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“Hey, Marvin, is that you?” said Zaphod into the phone, “How you doing, kid?”

There was a long pause before a thin low voice came up the line.

“I think you ought to know I’m feeling very depressed,” it said.

Zaphod cupped his hands over the phone.

“It’s Marvin,” he said.

“Hey, Marvin,” he said into the phone again, “we’re having a great time. Food, wine, a little personal abuse and the Universe going foom. Where can we find you?”

Again the pause.

“You don’t have to pretend to be interested in me you know,” said Marvin at last, “I know perfectly well I’m only a menial robot.”

“OK, OK,” said Zaphod, “but where are you?”

“’Reverse primary thrust, Marvin,’ that’s what they say to me, ‘open airlock number three, Marvin. Marvin, can you pick up that piece of paper?’ Can I pick up that piece of paper! Here I am, brain the size of a planet and they ask me to…”

“Yeah, yeah,” sympathized Zaphod hardly at all.

“But I’m quite used to being humiliated,” droned Marvin, “I can even go and stick my head in a bucket of water if you like. Would you like me to go and stick my head in a bucket of water? I’ve got one ready. Wait a minute.”

“Er, hey, Marvin…” interrupted Zaphod, but it was too late. Sad little clunks and gurgles came up the line.

“What’s he saying?” asked Trillian.

“Nothing,” said Zaphod, “he just phoned up to wash his head at us.”

“There,” said Marvin, coming back on the line and bubbling a bit, “I hope that gave satisfaction…”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Zaphod, “now will you please tell us where you are?”

“I’m in the car park,” said Marvin.

“The car park?” said Zaphod, “what are you doing there?”

“Parking cars, what else does one do in a car park?”

“OK, hang in there, we’ll be right down.”

In one movement Zaphod leapt to his feet, threw down the phone and wrote “Hotblack Desiato” on the bill.

“Come on guys,” he said, “Marvin’s in the car park. Let’s get on down.”

“What’s he doing in the car park?” asked Arthur.

“Parking cars, what else? Dum dum.”

“But what about the End of the Universe? We’ll miss the big moment.”

“I’ve seen it. It’s rubbish,” said Zaphod, “nothing but a gnab gib.”

“A what?”

“Opposite of a big bang. Come on, let’s get zappy.”

Few of the other diners paid them any attention as they weaved their way through the Restaurant to the exit. Their eyes were riveted on the horror of the skies.

“An interesting effect to watch for,” Max was telling them, “is in the upper left-hand quadrant of the sky, where if you look very carefully you can see the star system Hastromil boiling away into the ultra-violet. Anyone here from Hastromil?”

There were one or two slightly hesitant cheers from somewhere at the back.

“Well,” said Max beaming cheerfully at them, “it’s too late to worry about whether you left the gas on now.”

Chapter 18

The main reception foyer was almost empty but Ford nevertheless weaved his way through it.

Zaphod grasped him firmly by the arm and manoeuvred him into a cubicle standing to one side of the entrance hall.

“What are you doing to him?” asked Arthur.

“Sobering him up,” said Zaphod and pushed a coin into a slot. Lights flashed, gases swirled.