The Restaurant at the End of the Universe - Douglas Adams [64]
For a while the two groups simply stared at each other, neither side making any move. The natives seemed puzzled by the intruders, and while they showed no sign of aggression they were quite clearly not issuing any invitations.
Nothing happened.
For a full two minutes nothing continued to happen.
After two minutes Ford decided it was time something happened.
“Hello,” he said.
The women drew their children slightly closer to them.
The men made hardly any discernible move and yet their whole disposition made it clear that the greeting was not welcome—it was not resented in any great degree, it was just not welcome.
One of the men, who had been standing slightly forward of the rest of the group and who might therefore have been their leader, stepped forward. His face was quiet and calm, almost serene.
“Ugghhhuuggghhhrrrr uh uh ruh uurgh,” he said quietly.
This caught Arthur by surprise. He had grown so used to receiving an instantaneous and unconscious translation of everything he heard via the Babel fish lodged in his ear that he had ceased to be aware of it, and he was only reminded of its presence now by the fact that it didn’t seem to be working. Vague shadows of meaning had flickered at the back of his mind, but there was nothing he could get any firm grasp on. He guessed, correctly as it happens, that these people had as yet evolved no more than the barest rudiments of language, and that the Babel fish was therefore powerless to help. He glanced at Ford, who was infinitely more experienced in these matters.
“I think,” said Ford out of the corner of his mouth, “he’s asking us if we’d mind walking on around the edge of the village.”
A moment later, a gesture from the man-creature seemed to confirm this.
“Ruurgggghhhh urrgggh; urgh urgh (uh ruh) rruurruuh ug,” continued the man-creature.
“The general gist,” said Ford, “as far as I can make out, is that we are welcome to continue our journey in any way we like, but if we would walk around his village rather than through it it would make them all very happy.”
“So what do we do?”
“I think we make them happy,” said Ford.
Slowly and watchfully they walked around the perimeter of the clearing. This seemed to go down very well with the natives who bowed to them very slightly and then went about their business.
Ford and Arthur continued their journey through the wood. A few hundred yards past the clearing they suddenly came upon a small pile of fruit lying in their path—berries that looked remarkably like raspberries and strawberries, and pulpy, green-skinned fruit that looked remarkably like pears.
So far they had steered clear of the fruit and berries they had seen, though the trees and bushes were laden with them.
“Look at it this way,” Ford Prefect had said, “fruit and berries on strange planets either make you live or make you die. Therefore the point at which to start toying with them is when you’re going to die if you don’t. That way you stay ahead. The secret of healthy hitchhiking is to eat junk food.”
They looked at the pile that lay in their path with suspicion. It looked so good it made them almost dizzy with hunger.
“Look at it this way,” said Ford, “er…”
“Yes?” said Arthur.
“I’m trying to think of a way of looking at it which means we get to eat it,” said Ford.
The leaf-dappled sun gleamed on the plump skins of the things which looked like pears. The things which looked like raspberries and strawberries were fatter and riper than any Arthur had ever seen, even in ice cream commercials.
“Why don’t we eat them and think about it afterward?” he said.
“Maybe that’s what they want us to do.”
“All right, look at it this way….”
“Sounds good so far.”
“It’s there for us to eat. Either it’s good or it’s bad, either they want to feed us or to poison us. If it’s poisonous and we don’t eat it they’ll just attack us some other way. If we don’t eat, we lose out either way.”
“I like the way you’re thinking,” said Ford. “Now eat one.”
Hesitantly, Arthur picked up one of the things that looked like pears.
“I always thought that about