Life, the Universe and Everything - Douglas Adams [20]
“You see the sort of thing I have to contend with?” said Marvin to the gobbering mattress.
And suddenly, a moment later, the robots were back again for another violent incident, and this time when they left, the mattress was alone in the swamp. He flolloped around in astonishment and alarm. He almost lurgled in fear. He reared himself to see over the reeds, but there was nothing to see, no robot, no glittering bridge, no ship, just more reeds. He listened, but there was no sound on the wind beyond the now familiar sound of half-crazed etymologists calling to each other across the sullen mire.
Chapter 8
he body of Arthur Dent spun.
The Universe shattered into a million glittering fragments around it, and each particular shard spun silently through the void, reflecting on its silver surface some single searing holocaust of fire and destruction.
And then the blackness behind the Universe exploded, and each particular piece of blackness was the furious smoke of hell.
And the nothingness behind the blackness behind the Universe erupted, and behind the nothingness behind the blackness behind the shattered Universe was at last the dark figure of an immense man speaking immense words.
“These, then,” said the figure, speaking from an immensely comfortable chair, “were the Krikkit Wars, the greatest devastation ever visited upon our Galaxy. What you have experienced …”
Slartibartfast floated past, waving.
“It’s just a documentary,” he called out, “this is not a good bit. Terribly sorry, trying to find the rewind control …”
“… is what billions upon billions of innocent…”
“Do not,” called out Slartibartfast, floating past again, and fiddling furiously with the thing that he had stuck into the wall of the room of Informational Illusions and that was in fact still stuck there, “agree to buy anything at this point.”
“… people, creatures, your fellow beings …”
Music swelled—again, it was immense music, immense chords. And behind the man, slowly, three tall pillars began slowly to emerge out of the immensely swirling mist.
“… experienced, lived through or—more often— failed to live through. Think of that, my friends. And let us not forget—and in just a moment I shall be able to suggest a way that will help us always to remember—that before the Krikkit Wars, the Galaxy was that rare and wonderful thing, a happy Galaxy!”
The music was going bananas with immensity at this point.
“A happy Galaxy, my friends, as represented by the symbol of the Wikkit Gate!”
The three pillars stood out clearly now, three pillars topped with two crosspieces in a way that looked stupefyingly familiar to Arthur’s addled brain.
“The three pillars,” thundered the man, “the Steel Pillar, which represents the Strength and Power of the Galaxy!”
Searchlights seared out and danced crazy dances up and down the pillar on the left that was made of steel or something very like it. The music thumped and bellowed.
“The Plastic Pillar,” announced the man, “representing the forces of Science and Reason in the Galaxy!”
Other searchlights played exotically up and down the right-hand, transparent pillar creating dazzling patterns within it and a sudden inexplicable craving for ice cream in the stomach of Arthur Dent.
“And,” the thunderous voice continued, “the Wooden Pillar, representing …” and here his voice became just very slightly hoarse with wonderful sentiments, “the forces of Nature and Spirituality.”
The lights picked out the central pillar. The music moved bravely up into the realms of complete unspeakability.
“Between them supporting,” the voice rolled on, approaching its climax, “the Golden Bail of Prosperity and the Silver Bail of Peace!”
The whole structure was now flooded with dazzling lights, and the music had now, fortunately, gone far beyond the limits of the discernible. At the top of the three pillars the two brilliantly gleaming bails sat and dazzled. There seemed to be girls sitting on top of them, or maybe they were