Part 5 (2/2)

'The gel is full of things, you know,' Zaphod explained with standard vagueness. 'Stuff that's good for the things that need to be done.'

'Please shut up, brother,' said Zaphod's second head, which rested on a cus.h.i.+on of wires and fuses inside the sphere. 'You're embarra.s.sing yourself. And me.'

Left Brain resembled Zaphod almost exactly, apart from some styling differences. Where the Galactic President was flamboyantly highlighted and may or may not have been wearing eyeliner, Left Brain's hair was close-cropped with a severe parting and his eyes shone with laser-sharp intelligence and strength of purpose.

'The gel is an electrolytic compound that feeds my organic cells and powers the anti-grav field around the sphere.'

'And the speakers, LB,' said Zaphod. 'A man's gotta have sounds.'

'Yes, ZB,' sighed Left Brain. 'The speakers. Now don't you have someone to wink at in the mirror?'

Zaphod leaned heavily on the console. 'Some days I think maybe separating was a mistake. But since Left Brain took over the s.h.i.+p from Eddie, we haven't exploded once. Not one time. And the causing wars thing is way down. That's good, right?'

'Now that the s.h.i.+p is not being run by my imbecilic predecessor, our life expectancy has risen by eight hundred per cent.'

Random, a politician, nodded appreciatively at the statistic.

Arthur rapped on the sphere. 'h.e.l.lo... Zaphod... Left Brain. Are you driving the s.h.i.+p? Can you get us out of here?'

'Please don't touch the gla.s.s, Earthman. You have no idea how many times I have to spin around in the gel to get smears off.'

'Sorry.'

'To answer your questions: I am currently interfacing with the Dodge-O-Matic program so that we can avoid the Grebulon death rays. Their lattice is closing as we speak, so the sooner we engage the Improbability Drive, the better.'

'How soon is that likely to be?'

'In ninety seconds. Several minutes before the death rays can possibly destroy the s.h.i.+p.'

'You're sure about that?'

Left Brain did not appreciate the question. 'You're new here and we've just met, so I'm going to explain this. I am the s.h.i.+p, the s.h.i.+p is me. There is no mis-information.'

'New? I've been here before, mate. And we have have met, only the last time...' met, only the last time...'

'I was still attached to Zaphod, the idiot.'

'Wohoo!' yelled Zaphod. 'He nailed you there, Arty. Don't go toe to toe with this guy.'

'Subjugated by his raucous personality,' continued Left Brain. 'Dominated by his irrepressible hedonism.'

'I warned you, Earthman. Don't say I didn't warn you. Left Brain will skin you alive and make fritters with the shavings.'

Left Brain swivelled, focussing his gaze on Zaphod. 'This s.h.i.+ftless monkey kept me locked inside my own head until I planted the separation idea during a drunken binge. Zaphod is such a gobemouche that he actually believes the notion was his own.'

Zaphod's eyes clouded. 'Gobemouche? Say what now?'

Although Arthur was worried about the ramifications of the heads' sibling rivalry, or split personality, or whatever the correct medical term might be, he decided to choke down his misgivings for Random's sake. They were saved, after all. Random was safe and that was all that mattered. Arthur knew from experience that losing his home planet would crush his spirit in the near future, possibly around teatime when there was no tea, or perhaps following a particularly beautiful holo-sunset, but for now he was determined to put on a brave face for his daughter.

'Okay, everyone,' he said, his voice as bright and hollow as a light bulb. 'Emergency over for the moment. Why don't we all strap ourselves in for an Improbability jaunt.' He chuckled. 'We all know how wacky they are.'

Random patted the spot on her chest where Fertle used to be. 'Wacky, Arthur? Wacky? You're not fooling anyone. And that was the most forced chuckle I have ever heard, Arthur. You'll never be half the man my husband was.'

And once again, everything is my fault, thought Arthur. Maybe I should fake being cheerful more often, then perhaps people would fall for it Maybe I should fake being cheerful more often, then perhaps people would fall for it.

'I don't suppose this computer has learned to make tea?'

A red light flashed on Left Brain's dome. 'Stop talking now, Earthman. The word ”tea” has been flagged. The last time you asked for ”tea”, you backed up the entire system during an alert.'

Another forced chuckle from Arthur, followed by a little shuffle and a quick exit to the viewing gallery. 'I'm just going to check the death-ray lattice thing. See how we're getting on. Can I get anyone anything?'

No one bothered to reply.

Guide Note: 'Can I get anyone anything?' is a standard get-out-of-room-quick card and can be played whenever uncomfortable circ.u.mstances, ranging from mild embarra.s.sment to major impending doom, are fast approaching. Most cultures have a variation on the 'can I get anyone anything' comment and they are so obviously rhetorical that they barely merit a question mark. Betelgeuseans ask: 'Did anyone hear a plopping sound? Like a tennis ball into a bowl of custard? Anyone? I better go check it out.' The Jatravartid version is: 'Did someone hear the door crystal? I bet it's p.o.o.ple. Late as usual. I better go and let him in before he fills his handkerchief.'

To Arthur's relief, no one broke interstellar protocol by actually asking for something and he was able to sneak off to the viewing gallery and pretend he was back on his beach.

Ford rapped his knuckles on the console, listening to the 'bong'. 'I'd forgotten that bong, Zaph. You know, noises and things. You forget all about them then experience them again and remember how important they are to you. Then you wonder where all the memories were all that time you weren't thinking about them.'

Zaphod had no trouble tuning into this wavelength. 'I always thought my memories were across the hallway in head number two. And, if I needed them, head number two just beamed them across.'

'Wow. That is, like, it. it. Like the essence of what I'm trying to communicate. Did you guys, like, look in each other's eyes, you know, when he was shooting the memories across?' Like the essence of what I'm trying to communicate. Did you guys, like, look in each other's eyes, you know, when he was shooting the memories across?'

'Absolutely not,' said Left Brain, bobbing a little in spite of his gyroscopic field. 'His theory is ridiculous. We both have a cortex.'

Ford danced around the sphere, cradling it like a crystal ball. 'Yeah, but you have the big brain. You're the smart one hooked up to the Infinite Improbability Drive?'

Left Brain could not contain a little satisfied smirk. 'That is true. I control the drive. It is part of me now. I feel its every uncertainty.'

Ford's eyes were glazed, but still intelligent. 'So, explain to me how I was expecting you.'

Left Brain froze in mid-glide. 'What?'

'Yep. That's right, smarty-pants-less. I knew you guys would show up.'

'That's ridiculous. How could you know? The odds that the only person in the Universe who could rescue you would turn up exactly when you needed him was one hundred and fifty billion to one against. Acceptable odds for the Drive.'

Ford begged to differ. 'Depends how you cal-cu-late, mate.'

'There is only one way to calculate,' said Left Brain stiffly.

'Oh, no,' said Ford in the tone of one who has spent far too many hours in cheap hotels with no credits for the b.o.o.b-O-Whooper and is forced to read his own guide book. 'There are many ways to calculate. The Vl'hurgs' entire mathematical system was based on entrails.'

Guide Note: This is not entirely true. Dried velohound p.e.n.i.s was also involved.

'And I myself,' continued Ford in a voice so superior it would have caused single-cell life forms to accelerate their evolution so that they could use their fab new opposable thumbs to pick up a rock and beat him to death, 'I myself base most of my calculations on emotions.'

<script>