The Restaurant at the End of the Universe - Douglas Adams [42]
“Your eyes just slide off it….” said Ford in wonder. It was an emotional moment. He bit his lip.
Zaphod moved forward to it, slowly, like a man possessed—or more accurately like a man who wanted to possess. His hand reached out to stroke it. His hand stopped. His hand reached out to stroke it again. His hand stopped again.
“Come and feel this surface,” he said in a hushed voice.
Ford put his hand out to feel it. His hand stopped.
“You… you can’t….” he said.
“See?” said Zaphod. “It’s just totally frictionless. This must be one mother of a mover….”
He turned to look at Ford seriously. At least, one of his heads did—the other stayed gazing in awe at the ship.
“What do you reckon, Ford?” he said.
“You mean… er”—Ford looked over his shoulder—“you mean stroll off with it? You think we should?”
“No.”
“Nor do I.”
“But we’re going to, aren’t we?”
“How can we not?”
They gazed a little longer, till Zaphod suddenly pulled himself together.
“We better shift soon,” he said. “In a moment or so the Universe will have ended and all the Captain Creeps will be pouring down here to find their bourge-mobiles.”
“Zaphod,” said Ford.
“Yeah?”
“How do we do it?”
“Simple,” said Zaphod. He turned. “Marvin!” he called.
Slowly, laboriously and with a million little clanking and creaking noises that he had learned to simulate, Marvin turned round to answer the summons.
“Come on over here,” said Zaphod. “We’ve got a job for you.”
Marvin trudged toward them.
“I won’t enjoy it,” he said.
“Yes, you will,” enthused Zaphod, “there’s a whole new life stretching out ahead of you.”
“Oh, not another one,” groaned Marvin.
“Will you shut up and listen!” hissed Zaphod. “This time there’s going to be excitement and adventure and really wild things.”
“Sounds awful,” Marvin said.
“Marvin! All I’m trying to ask you…”
“I suppose you want me to open this spaceship for you?”
“What? Er… yes. Yeah, that’s right,” said Zaphod jumpily. He was keeping at least three eyes on the entrance. Time was short.
“Well, I wish you’d just tell me rather than try to engage my enthusiasm,” said Marvin, “because I haven’t got one.”
He walked on up to the ship, touched it, and a hatchway swung open.
Ford and Zaphod stared at the opening.
“Don’t mention it,” said Marvin. “Oh, you didn’t.” He trudged away again.
Arthur and Trillian clustered around.
“What’s happening?” asked Arthur.
“Look at this,” said Ford. “Look at the interior of this ship.”
“Weirder and weirder,” breathed Zaphod.
“It’s black,” said Ford. “Everything in it is just totally black….”
In the Restaurant, things were fast approaching the moment after which there wouldn’t be any more moments.
All eyes were fixed on the dome, other than those of Hotblack Desiato’s bodyguard, which were looking intently at Hotblack Desiato, and those of Hotblack Desiato himself which the bodyguard had closed out of respect.
The bodyguard leaned forward over the table. Had Hotblack Desiato been alive, he probably would have deemed this a good moment to lean back, or even go for a short walk. His bodyguard was not a man who improved with proximity. On account of his unfortunate condition, however, Hotblack Desiato remained totally inert.
“Mr. Desiato, sir?” whispered the bodyguard. Whenever he spoke, it looked as if the muscles on either side of his mouth were clambering over each other to get out of the way.
“Mr. Desiato? Can you hear me?”
Hotblack Desiato, quite naturally, said nothing.
“Hotblack?” hissed the bodyguard.
Again, quite naturally, Hotblack Desiato did not reply. Supernaturally, however, he did.
On the table in front of him a wineglass rattled, and a fork rose an inch or so and tapped against the glass. It settled on the table again.
The bodyguard gave a satisfied grunt.
“It’s time we were going, Mr. Desiato,” muttered the bodyguard; “don’t want to get caught in the rush, not in your condition. You want to get to the next gig nice and relaxed. There was a really big audience for it. One of the best. Kakrafoon. Five hundred and seventy-six thousand