And Another Thing... Part 6

'Emotions!' spluttered Left Brain all over the inside of his own bowl. 'Emotions? How can you afford to have only one head and still be so stupid?'

'I like being stupid. You see things clearly. Being stupid is like squinting through the sunlight.'

Each statement rocked Left Brain's sphere like a slap from a wet towel. 'Sunlight? What are you saying? Stupidity is ignorance and darkness.'

'So you planned planned to come here? These are the coordinates you selected?' to come here? These are the coordinates you selected?'

'No,' admitted Left Brain. 'The exact spot had already been destroyed, so the Drive moved us to safety.'

'So out of all the spots in the Universe, the ship brings us here.'

'Coincidence. Backwash from the Improbability Drive.'

'This is more than coincidence. Zaphod comes to the rescue of his favourite cousin. How unlikely is that? It's happened before near enough to this very same planet. One more time and it's a pattern. And the last time I checked, patterns are not very improbable.'

Another Guide Note: This last was a lie, as Ford Prefect had never once checked the probability of patterns. Ford rarely checked anything apart from how full his gla.s.s was and general froodiness levels. He once paid a month's salary for a froody detector which only worked if the operator's own froodiness was sufficient to power it. Ford tried it once in the bathroom, then forced it into the trash compacter along with the receipt.

Left Brain rocked back on his x-axis. 'Yes, it is true that patterns are not good models for improbability.'

'Generally true?'

'Generally.'

'Generally doesn't sound very improbable. Doesn't sound very zenzizenzizenzic to one against. Sounds more like even money to me.' doesn't sound very improbable. Doesn't sound very zenzizenzizenzic to one against. Sounds more like even money to me.'

'Y-yes,' stammered Left Brain. 'You make a good point.'

'Are you sweating, man? Can robot heads sweat now?'

Left Brain was indeed perspiring profusely. Little spider-bots emerged from the sphere's collar, feasting on the moisture drops.

'I am not not a robot,' protested Left Brain. a robot,' protested Left Brain.

'Hey, you're floating in a gla.s.s bubble, hooked up to a computer. Spiders coming out of your neck. The last time I checked, those things all scream robot.'

Guide Note: Again, no checking. Total buffa-biscuit.

'Although,' mused Ford, stroking close to his chin, 'the total c.o.c.k-up of the Improbability Drive is very organic being organic being territory.' territory.'

'Total c.o.c.k-up,' said Left Brain nervously. 'You really think so?'

'Absolutely. But let's dwell on that later, and at great length, to much embarra.s.sment for one of us. Now, how about you fire up that Drive and send us somewhere that actually is is improbable.' improbable.'

Left Brain's dome light pulsed a sickly green and streams of numbers flashed across the gla.s.s. 'Improbable? But how to calculate? How to... Everything I believe in. Numbers are fallible? Can that be true? Can it?'

Ford was beginning to sober up. 'Hey, buddy. Forget it. I'm just twisting your pormwrangler. Tell him, Zaphod.'

Zaphod draped an arm around his cousin's shoulders. 'It's true, buddy. You've been wrangled by the best. Ford here once made a Voondonian grand high friar attack him with incense sticks.'

'For a bet bet,' said Ford, who wouldn't like people to believe that he went around incensing incensed friars for no no reason. reason.

Left Brain was in some distress. 'The computer sings to me of numbers, but you but you... You two buffa-biscuit buffa-biscuit heads with your heads with your buffa-puckey buffa-puckey!'

'Hey, less of the buffa,' said Ford, injured. 'I'm just trying to bond. You know, impress you with my offbeat intellectualism.'

'It's just all... It's just too... Numbers. Emotions. Zark!'

And then Left Brain went into a loop. A very short loop. One word, over and over.

'Zark... Zark... Zark...'

Zaphod's third arm popped out from underneath his ruffled silk shirt, slapping Ford on the crown of his head.

'Idiot. You froze him.'

'You kept the arm, then.'

Zaphod tucked his spare hand across his chest into the left pocket of his spray-on trousers.

Guide Note: Not a euphemism. Zaphod bought a pants sprayer on Port Sesefron that promised to 'reach those hard to reach places'. After the first application, Zaphod turned the power down a bit. There was a special nozzle for pockets.

'I mostly use the third arm for ceremonial stuff. Stick a purple sleeve on, and, hey presto, it's a sash.'

Ford flapped his lips, unimpressed by Left Brain. 'It didn't take much to freeze him. You should have waited for version 2.0.'

Trillian strapped herself into a luxurious Tilt-O-Chair beside Random, who was sulking hard enough to feed a family of Cyphroles for five hundred years.

'Why aren't we somewhere else, Zaphod? I can still see death rays.'

Zaphod betrayed his cousin with a thumb jerk. 'Ask Ford im-perfect. He froze the ship.'

Arthur chose this moment to stroll back on to the bridge. 'Froze the ship? Did you say froze the ship?'

Arthur's old memories were rea.s.serting themselves by the second and, to his chagrin, he found them not entirely dissimilar to the new ones.

I miss being surprised, he realized. These days I go straight from calm to terrified. These days I go straight from calm to terrified.

'What is your problem, Ford?' he asked. 'Are you wired somehow to screw things up?'

'He's wired, not me,' said Ford, pointing to Left Brain, who was now bobbling against the ceiling like an escaped balloon. wired, not me,' said Ford, pointing to Left Brain, who was now bobbling against the ceiling like an escaped balloon.

Arthur sensed that something was missing on the bridge.

'I don't know what it is,' he said, testing the air with his fingers. 'But something was here a second ago and now it's gone.'

Zaphod was delighted to have some relevant information. 'Let me fill you in on that, Earthman. When the Dodge-O-Matic is activated, the computer paints the walls with an off-white light. Phototherapeutic brain-calming stuff.'

'And the light is off.'

'Badabingo!'

Guide Note: Badabingo is a board game played by lifers on the prison moon in orbit around Blagulon Kappa. A game for up to a hundred players, the object being to get all your little horsies around the board and back to their stables, at which point a six is needed before you can twist off the horsies' heads. Once the last horsey is beheaded, the leader jumps to his feet and shouts 'Badabingo'. After that, it is up to him to stay alive until the riot squad arrive.

'Which means the Dodge-O-Matic is also off.'

'Green stick in the green hole, boy.'

Another Guide Note: The 'green stick in the green hole' cry is a reference to a simple matching game used in the very special Adult Ed. cla.s.ses on Betelgeuse Five where President Beeblebrox grew up. A Striteraxian equivalent would be: 'You display inordinate pride for someone who has completed a task which could have been performed by a lesser primate in a shorter time.' The Armorfiends were never very good at references, but they were quite excellent at getting to the point. Usually the point would be made of toughened steel and coated with venom.

'Which means we can be diced into cubes by that death-ray lattice thing, just like the entire planet.'

Zaphod snorted like this was the craziest thing he had ever heard. 'The Earth ain't going to be diced, Arty. Those death rays will superheat the surface and totally vaporize the entire planet. Any second now.'

'That's comforting. What about us?'

'Oh, yeah. The lattice has already figured out how to box us in. We're gonna be diced. No doubt about that. Green stick and all that. I was just beginning to take ownership of this haircut too.'

Arthur pressed his face to the porthole. Outside, in s.p.a.ce, the green rays sliced soundlessly through the blackness, vast emerald pendulums, boiling the planet below where they touched. As the rays swung closer, Arthur saw that they were comprised of pulsating bars, crackling with internal lightning.

A really fat, evil one was swinging inexorably their way.

My daughter is going to die, he realized. And that really upsets me. I bet it's Thursday. And that really upsets me. I bet it's Thursday.

He pulled his face away from the gla.s.s with a soft pop. 'There must be something we can do? We're not beaten yet, are we?'

Ford was waggling his joystick under Zaphod's nose. 'Do you think that if I have another puff now, that would const.i.tute a second puff, or another first puff?'

'Couldn't we somehow jump-start Left Brain?'

Zaphod frowned. 'Tricky one, cousin-o-mine. Maybe if I I have a puff, the answer will come to me.' have a puff, the answer will come to me.'

Arthur found that his surprise gland was alive and functioning after all.

'Don't you care that we are all about to die? How can you not care?'

Ford winked at him. 'In a spot like this, Arthur, what does it benefit a man to care?'

'I don't know, Ford. I truly do not. But I have a daughter there, in that seat. That's what I know.'

There was a knock at the door.

'Get that, would you, Earthman?' said Zaphod.

Arthur was kind enough to provide both a delayed reaction and a double take for the entertainment of the Betelgeuseans.

'You get it. It's your... arkkkkk!'

'You're funny, buddy!' howled Ford, punching his shoulder. 'Didn't I tell you, cousin? I've been telling you for years. Arthur is a riot.'

'Did you hear that?,' whispered Arthur, afraid to hope too loudly. 'Can there be someone at the door, in s.p.a.ce?'

The knock sounded again, a booming boing boing that made Arthur feel as though he were inside a belfry. that made Arthur feel as though he were inside a belfry.

'Don't worry about the boing boing thing,' said Zaphod. 'It's just a recording. I can set it to ding-dong if you like. Or a pootle-tink bird, my favourite.' thing,' said Zaphod. 'It's just a recording. I can set it to ding-dong if you like. Or a pootle-tink bird, my favourite.'

Green light glowed through the porthole. The window began to bubble.

'Open the door!' yelled Arthur, waving his arms for emphasis. 'Open it quickly.'

'I can't,' said Zaphod, not seeming too upset. 'Little Ix broke the ship. Remember?'

Trillian stroked Random's hair once, then crossed the bridge to the emergency hatch.

'Improbability? You want improbability? You two idiots staying alive this long, now that's that's improbable.' improbable.'

She reached into what seemed to be a solid panel and pulled out a crank.

'Emergency manual handle. Remember?'

'Hey, sugar. It's not my ship. I just stole it.'

Arthur grabbed the handle and cranked until the sweat dripped down his jaw line. This did not take as long as one might imagine, as the Grebulon rays' proximity was turning the drifting Heart of Gold Heart of Gold into a very effective cauldron. into a very effective cauldron.

'Come on, Arthur,' urged Trillian. 'Come on.'

Arthur opened his mouth to argue that he was coming on as fast as he could and could she please give him a break as he had spent the last century or so on a beach taking no strenuous exercise whatsoever and where the h.e.l.l did she get off dropping his surprise teenage daughter on Lamuella then zipping off to cover a war that never happened? Arthur was about to say all of this, then thought that maybe he would crank harder instead.

Surprisingly, just thinking these things made him feel a little better.

Arthur's cranking powered a small plasma cell that sent a charge through the hatch and excited the molecules sufficiently to precipitate a phase transition, turning the portal to a gas.

'Now, you see, that's not what I thought was going to happen at all,' puffed Arthur.

A tall green humanoid alien stood in the airlock, wringing his fingers. He was an impressive specimen, if your criteria for being impressed included developed musculature, wide intelligent brow, dark, tortured eyes and a suit so sharp that just thinking about it could give a person a migraine.

'Babel fish?' said the alien in cultured, but slightly testy tones. 'Please tell me Babel fish.'

Zaphod threw his hands in the air. 'Babel fish all round.'

'Oh, thank Zarquon,' said the alien, stepping inside. 'Honestly, if I had to go through one more room full of grunts and blank stares... What is it with people? Just buy a dozen fish and let them breed.'

'People are so cheap,' agreed Zaphod.

The alien stopped in his tracks. 'What? No. It couldn't be?'

Zaphod flicked back a sheaf of hair. 'Yes it is, baby.'

'Zaphod Beeblebrox? Galactic President Beeblebrox?'