Part 4 (1/2)

'Thank you very much,' said a touched Ford, who had always been proud of his skill at the pormwrangling pits of Bhaboom Lane. 'But let's do compliments later.'

'Later?' said Arthur. 'What later? We don't have a later, thanks to your Mk II.'

'It's not mine,' objected the Betelgeusean.

'You stole it, Ford. You posted it to yourself, care of me. I think that makes it yours.'

'Ah, you see, I stole stole it. Therefore it's not mine. You're winning my argument for me.' it. Therefore it's not mine. You're winning my argument for me.'

2.37 said the digital readout.

2.36.

then 0.10...... 0.09...

'Hmm,' said Ford, scratching the plane in s.p.a.ce where his chin was obstinately refusing to be. 'That's a little strange.'

'I know,' agreed Arthur. 'Surely the numerical system hasn't changed? We've only been away a couple of seconds.'

'Well, if the numerical system's been changed, they might not even be seconds.'

The bird reappeared, its image striated with lines of interference. 'Sorry. All this arguing is draining my battery. Negative energy.'

And Mk II disappeared, taking with it the tranquil room of sky. Arthur, Trillian, Random and Ford found themselves deposited on the men's room stairs in Stravro Meuller's sw.a.n.ky (until very recently) Club Beta, their memories of virtual lives dissipating like mist in the sunlight.

This is real life, Arthur realized. How could I ever have been duped by that beach? How could it have been real when no one was trying to kill me? How could I ever have been duped by that beach? How could it have been real when no one was trying to kill me?

The air was alive with screaming, the cacophonous wrenching sounds of civilization collapsing, the thrum and buzz of Grebulon death rays and the chittering of a million rats fleeing the city, which the four arrivees could understand thanks to the Babel fish universal translators in their ear holes.

'I saw it in those dog intestines,' squeaked one lady rat named Audrey. 'I foretold the end for the two-footers by a big green s.p.a.ce light. No one would b.l.o.o.d.y listen. n.o.body.'

'Come on, Mum,' scoffed her eighteenth son, Cornelius. 'You said a dark stranger would cross our path.'

'Them're dark strangers, firing them death beams. What would you call 'em?'

Cornelius twitched a whisker, the rat equivalent of rolled eyeb.a.l.l.s. 'That's one interpretation. You need to be more specific, Mum. People are laughing.'

'Cheeky beggar,' said Audrey and scampered off down a drain.

The rest of the rats said things like: 'Oh, no!'

'Oh, Muroideam!' (Father of the rat G.o.ds.) 'Aaaargh! Dark stranger, my a.r.s.e!'

Arthur Dent sat on the stairs in the midst of the whole imbroglio feeling strangely peaceful. There was nothing to do but be happy for having loved someone once and having been loved in return. It was big, dying. BIG. But not as big as it had once seemed.

At the foot of the stairs, a sobbing Random was being comforted by both Trillian and Tricia McMillan.

Stupid b.l.o.o.d.y Plural zone, thought Arthur. You leave one Earth and come back to another. The Earth I left was destroyed and the one I returned to has a Tricia McMillan who never travelled through s.p.a.ce with Zaphod Beeblebrox. Ah, the infinite mult.i.tudinous possibilities of my home planet. The things I might have seen on another Earth, just down the probability axis. I might have made myself a nice cup of tea. You leave one Earth and come back to another. The Earth I left was destroyed and the one I returned to has a Tricia McMillan who never travelled through s.p.a.ce with Zaphod Beeblebrox. Ah, the infinite mult.i.tudinous possibilities of my home planet. The things I might have seen on another Earth, just down the probability axis. I might have made myself a nice cup of tea.

'Regrets,' he sang absently, 'I've had a few. Like all those days, spent in detention.'

Frankie Martin Jnr. What a crooner.

The green rays scythed closer now. Arthur could feel their heat burning one side of his face.

That's going to peel, he thought.

'Hey, look,' said Ford brightly. 'My blue suede shoes. Froody.'

3.

The Tricia McMillan who was native to this Earth, and who had never been artificially sustained in the H2G2-2's construct, had an idea.

'I will talk to them, dear,' she said to the girl who was possibly her unborn daughter from what was periodically another dimension. 'The Grebulons listen to me. I'm something of a pin-up for them.'

And she was gone down the hallway, seconds before the hallway itself was gone, frittered by the beams like confetti in the wind.

Arthur was too numb to be horrified. Instead, he experienced a strange, p.r.i.c.kling jealousy.

At least Tricia died with some sense of purpose. She found an answer to her question that was not b.l.o.o.d.y forty-two. All I can do is sit here and be helpless.

Arthur felt a sense of disbelief that he had come to know well in his Galaxy-traveller phase. He had often secretly suspected that he was insane. There was no Heart of Gold Heart of Gold, no Zaphod Beeblebrox and certainly not a Deep Thought. As for the planet-building Magratheans patently ridiculous. More ridiculous even than the talking mice who were supposed to rule the planet.

'S'cuse me, guv'nor,' said a rat, skirting Arthur's foot.

'Sorry, mate,' muttered Arthur, automatically raising his shoe.

It was all insanity. And he was being observed somewhere by a cl.u.s.ter of undergraduates who were doubtless hung-over from the previous night's rugger celebrations and couldn't give a toss about Patient Dent's delusions.

If they don't give a toss, why should I?

Behind him, the Gent's door splintered and flew over his head. Moments later, very suspect water began seeping through the seat of his trousers.

Ford chuckled. 'It's true what they say. It does does always flow downhill.' always flow downhill.'

'Do you think we should make a run for it?'

'Run where? The whole planet's going up, my friend. Our running days are over. And those guys are out of hitchhiking range.' Ford rummaged in the satchel around his neck and pulled out what looked like a roll-up cigarette. 'Ahhhh,' he sighed happily. 'I've been saving this.'

Arthur was delighted to have something to be interested in. 'What is that?'

Ford squinted at him. 'That's more sarcasm sarcasm, is it?'

'No. It's a genuine question born of ignorance.'

'Well, in that case, happy to enlighten you, buddy. It's a cigarette.'