Life, the Universe, and Everything [3]
He waited for a reaction from Arthur, but Arthur knew better than that.
"Carry on," he said levelly.
"The point is, you see," said Ford, "that there is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later."
"And this is you sane again, is it?" said Arthur. "I ask merely for information."
"I went to Africa," said Ford.
"Yes?"
"Yes."
"What was that like?"
"And this is your cave is it?" said Ford.
"Er, yes," said Arthur. He felt very strange. After nearly four years of total isolation he was so pleased and relieved to see Ford that he could almost cry. Ford was, on the other hand, an almost immediately annoying person.
"Very nice," said Ford, in reference to Arthur's cave. "You must hate it."
Arthur didn't bother to reply.
"Africa was very interesting," said Ford, "I behaved very oddly there."
He gazed thoughtfully into the distance.
"I took up being cruel to animals," he said airily. "But only," he added, "as a hobby."
"Oh yes," said Arthur, warily.
"Yes," Ford assured him. "I won't disturb you with the details because they would -"
"What?"
"Disturb you. But you may be interested to know that I am singlehandedly responsible for the evolved shape of the animal you came to know in later centuries as a giraffe. And I tried to learn to fly. Do you believe me?"
"Tell me," said Arthur.
"I'll tell you later. I'll just mention that the Guide says ..."
"The ...?"
"Guide. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. You remember?"
"Yes. I remember throwing it in the river."
"Yes," said Ford, "but I fished it out."
"You didn't tell me."
"I didn't want you to throw it in again."
"Fair enough," admitted Arthur. "It says?"
"What?"
"The Guide says?"
"The Guide says there is an art to flying," said Ford, "or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." He smiled weakly. He pointed at the knees of his trousers and held his arms up to show the elbows. They were all torn and worn through.
"I haven't done very well so far," he said. He stuck out his hand. "I'm very glad to see you again, Arthur," he added.
Arthur shook his head in a sudden access of emotion and bewilderment.
"I haven't seen anyone for years," he said, "not anyone. I can hardly even remember how to speak. I keep forgetting words. I practise you see. I practise by talking to ... talking to ... what are those things people think you're mad if you talk to? Like George the Third."
"Kings?" suggested Ford.
"No, no," said Arthur. "The things he used to talk to. We're surrounded by them for heaven's sake. I've planted hundreds myself. They all died. Trees! I practise by talking to trees. What's that for?"
Ford still had his hand stuck out. Arthur looked at it with incomprehension.
"Shake," prompted Ford.
Arthur did, nervously at first, as if it might turn out to be a fish. Then he grasped it vigorously with both hands in an overwhelming flood of relief. He shook it and shook it.
After a while Ford found it necessary to disengage. They climbed to the top of a nearby outcrop of rock and surveyed the scene around them.
"What happened to the Golgafrinchans?" asked Ford.
Arthur shrugged.
"A lot of them didn't make it through the winter three years ago," he said, "and the few who remained in the spring said they needed a holiday and set off on a raft. History says that they must have survived ..."
"Huh," said Ford, "well well." He stuck his hands on his hips and looked round again at the empty world. Suddenly, there was about Ford a sense of energy and purpose.
"We're going," he said excitedly, and shivered with energy.
"Where? How?" said Arthur.
"I don't know," said Ford, "but I just feel that the time is right. Things are going to happen. We're on our way."
He lowered his voice to a whisper.
"I have detected," he said, "disturbances in the wash."
He gazed keenly into the distance and looked as if he would quite like the wind to blow his hair back dramatically at that point, but