HHGTTG - The Lost Chapters

by Douglas Adams

  "The monkey man is going out to talk to them," said Zaphod, casually.

  "What?" Yelled Arthur.

  "I knew we should have got him a replacement brain," said Zaphod. "Do you want to know where the tea is before you go?"

  "Zaphod! You can't send Arthur out there," exclaimed Trillian. "They could tear him to pieces."

  Zaphod declined to comment, but grinned. His teeth acted as a red rag to Arthur. He charged across the bridge, intending to send Zaphod flying, but Zaphod neatly side stepped and Arthur flew past, through a happy door that opened on seeing a body flying towards it and wished Arthur a fruitful journey. Arthur rolled down some stairs and ended up by the main airlock, which gladly hissed open.

  Arthur was confronted by hundreds of cheering dwarves.

  "Hooray, 'Our Seventh Obu' is dead. Long live our saviour!" They cheered.

  Arthur looked down and saw, to his dismay, two stumpy legs sticking out from under the Heart of Gold. He rightly assumed they belonged to 'Our Seventh Obu'. He didn't assume that she was the most infamous critic of Our Third Entism and was widely hated for her outspoken comments. If he had assumed this he would have again been right. He didn't so he apologised.

  "Don't apologise," shouted Latigid, the chief Stavromulan. "You have rid us of a blight to our land. What is the name of our hero?"

  "Arthur Dent," said Arthur and was astounded when the entire crowd fell to their knees, causing a minor sandstorm. He was joined by the rest of the party, who too were astounded.

  "What did you say to them, Arthur?" Asked Ford.

  "I just told them my name."

  "The Holy One shall wear the slippers of 'Our Seventh Obu' as protection and shall be carried on high to the holy theatre!" Said Latigid.

  Many dwarves rushed forward and put the red slippers from 'Our Seventh Obu's' feet on Arthur's feet. They didn't fit but as he was picked up it didn't really matter.

  "What about my friends?" Asked Arthur.

  "They too shall be carried on high."

  On high wasn't particularly high. Arthur's feet dragged along the ground, but it was better than walking. The road looked rough on the feet.

  Some one had obviously run ahead to spread the news, as crowds began to line the brick road. Arthur could see a town ahead. The crowds grew larger and Arthur began to enjoy himself. He waved at the crowds and they waved back.

  "Oooh, that's Our Third Ent!" Cried one woman, beside herself with excitement, which was quite a trick for a woman of her size.

  "He's much bigger than I thought he would be," shouted another person.

  One group wasn't cheering. Their sect believed in the Second Sitting, but also believed that Our Third Ent shouldn't have gone away in the first place. They were very devout and probably one of the most boring offshoots of Our Third Entism. They didn't pursue the sexual rituals that most other sects did and didn't have any religious holidays. They were the only sect that believed that Our Third Ent should be punished on his return and the gun that was to exercise that punishment was aimed at Arthur's head.

  Arthur, oblivious to this and many other startling facts about this planet, was having a great time. People rushed from the crowd just to be touched by him, something that had never happened on Earth. He wasn't particularly overjoyed by having his feet dragged along the ground and he could feel one of his slippers slipping off. No matter how much he wriggled his toes, it wouldn't stay on. Eventually he bent over and forced it back onto his foot.

  At that moment, a bullet whistled through the space that had previously contained his head, continued it's path and lodged itself firmly in the heart of someone standing in the crowd. No-one heard the shot because of all the cheering and those around him assumed the man had suffered a heart attack. They were wrong because fate had deemed this to the man in a former life and for variety had opted for the bullet this time. Arthur saw none of this and could therefore feel no sorrow for Agrajag.

  "Arthur," shouted Ford. "This is all very nice, but I imagine that the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation will come looking for us soon."

  "But Ford," sighed Zaphod, lapping up the adulation even though it wasn't for him. "The Heart of Gold is one invalid improbability drive ship."

  "Ah, I know," said Ford, a grin creeping onto his face. "But I found a back up improbability drive generator in our quarters. All we need to do is fix the stabilisers and we're history here."

  "I think Arthur is already history on this planet," said Fenchurch, proud of her man.

  "Ford," said Zaphod, still waving at the crowd. "We need an atomic vector plotter to connect the back up to the ship and I used the last one two weeks ago to unblock the toilet."

  "I knew there was something we forgot at the megamarket last week," moaned Trillian.

  "Perhaps these people have one," said Bolo, hopefully.

  "Any race that looks up to a puny primate is hardly likely to have evolved up to atomic vector plotter level," muttered Zaphod.

  Unfortunately, his bearers heard this. They dropped him, which didn't hurt, then jumped on him, which did.

  "Blasphemer!" They yelled.

  In no time at all, Zaphod was trussed up by the crowd and suspended from a pole held by his bearers.

  "Hey guys," he moaned. "Can't you take a joke? You've got as much humour as a Vogon Stag Night!"

  The power of this statement was lost on the Stavromulans, as they had never even met a Vogon, let alone be subjected to the ugliness of a Vogon bride.

  "Serves you right," said Trillian. "You chose the wrong place to insult Arthur."

  "Arthur, get them to put me down!" Yelled Zaphod, letting his cool slip to lukewarm.

  "We will do with him as you wish," said Latigid.

  "Leave him as he is until I decide," said Arthur, gloating.

  "Zaphod broke into a sob and Marvin broke into the Death March to cheer Zaphod up.

  The procession entered a long tunnel which Arthur failed to gauge accurately and subsequently remembered this by having to endure a bump on the head and the accompanying pain.

  The tunnel emerged into a large open air amphitheatre packed with Stavromulans. Marvin's bearers literally collapsed with joy as they reached the stage.

  "Don't apologise," said Marvin, knowing full well they had no intention of doing so. "I expect to be thrown about. It's all part of life."

  He was barely heard over the roars of the crowd as Arthur was introduced.

  "Look," argued Zaphod. "The crowd have got what they want. Why don't you let me go?"

  Latigid was unimpressed.

  "Your arguments have become stale and boring."

  "Stale, me?" Zaphod protested. "I'm so fresh my sell by date is light years away. By nunk, Arthur, I'll get you for this."

  Arthur wasn't listening. He was devouring all the adulation being thrust upon him. He walked to the front of the stage and held his arms out. This inspired more hysterical cheers from the crowd. He cleared his throat to speak and a sudden hush fell over the crowd.

  "People," he started. He felt it was a strong opening seeing as he had no insight into their culture. They hung on his every word. "I am Arthur Dent."

  Screams went up from the crowd but this time as a result of the robots from Sirius appearing around the top of the amphitheatre. The place emptied like a train full of lemmings at the White Cliffs of Dover.

  "We've caught up with you again," said Jeremy. "It wasn't even a good chase this time. You killed off our scouts, which was a bit unsporting and you waited here for us. I think you've lost interest, so if you can't be bothered, we'll just kill you. What is that robot doing with you?"

  "I am not just 'that robot', thank you very much," snorted Marvin. "You obviously have no conception of who I am." He paused to beg the question, then started again so soon as Jeremy began to speak. "I am your prototype, Marvin."

  The robots were stunned and amazed.

  "We were told you had been kidnapped."

  "What's the point of kidnapping me. Nobody wants
me. I just ended up going along for the ride. Enough of that, why haven't you given me the android salute, I am your superior."

  The robots looked at each other, confused.

  "You stick you left arm in the right ear of the robot next to you. Didn't they programme you anything?"

  The robots obliged, exploded and lit up the Stavromulan sky with a firework display to rival the space battle seen but an hour before.

  "Almost as stupid as you lot," muttered Marvin.

  CHAPTER 62

  The Stavromulans helped to repair the Heart of Gold and agreed to let Arthur go to Zaphod's wedding to give Trillian away on the provision that he didn't stay away as long as he did before. The emergency back up improbability drive generator was hooked up using the old atomic vector plotter held together with Arthur's dressing gown cord, even though he had offered to get them home by clicking his heals together twice.

  Ford got on the Sub Etha radio and relayed the co-ordinates of the entry route to Sirius to Etats and Dilos on Eccentrica Gallumbits' planet. Even though they were legless, they still managed to relay the message Universe-wide. Within hours, Sirius was overrun by consumers. The Marketing Division were put up against a wall and shot, strategic planning experts were brought in and the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation became a co-operative of the people. The revolution had arrived, two weeks before a rival company put in a bid, making a fortune for the co-operative. Wealth in the Universe was great for merchandising, causing a slight delay in plans.

  The scene was set for a perfect wedding.

  CHAPTER 63

  Arthur charged around in a panic. Fenchurch charged after him in a beautiful dress. Her intention was to get him into morning dress. She had found a do-it-yourself mode on the Tailormatic and although the machine protested, she produced an acceptable morning suit. Arthur was worried about what he had to do to give Trillian away. Fenchurch was worried about Arthur going out without any clothes on.

  "Where's Ford?" He cried. "He must know."

  "Arthur, will you put your clothes on," ordered Fenchurch.

  "What? Oh, alright, but I'm not going out unless I know what I've got to do," sulked Arthur.

  "You'll really enjoy yourself," said Fenchurch, pulling his trousers up. "I'll be there to give you support." She didn't realise that Arthur would be wearing a support.

  Trillian came in the room, looking incredible. If Arthur wasn't so in love with Fenchurch, he would have asked Trillian to give up Zaphod and run away with him.

  "You look lovely, Trillian," he said instead.

  "What a beautiful dress," said Fenchurch.

  It was indeed, beautiful. Every cut, stitch and hem was beautiful. The whole dress radiated beauty and tanned Arthur.

  "The Tailormatic ran it up," said Trillian. "It is rather nice."

  "Trillian, what have I got to do?" Asked Arthur. "I'm worried stiff in case I mess up your big day."

  "Don't worry," said Trillian. "Just wear this."

  She held out a grey cummerbund. Arthur took it and put it on.

  "That doesn't really put my mind at rest," said Arthur.

  "It's a gravity support harness," explained Trillian. "All you have to do is take your place next to Fenchurch after you land."

  "Land?" Said Fenchurch.

  "We fly down to the altar," said Trillian.

  "I didn't know you could fly," said Arthur.

  "I don't need to," said Trillian. "I've got a gravity support harness as well. A team of marriage technicians handles all the moves for us. All we've got to do is relax and enjoy it."

  Arthur couldn't relax and was sure he wasn't going to enjoy himself. He was standing by the control room with Trillian. They technicians were sitting in front of an overwhelming bank of controls and monitor screens.

  "Check on one, cue three for laser entry sequence."

  "Magnetic field generator operational."

  "All vocal Octogrids locked into octophonic harmonic positions."

  "Audience cameras homed in and ready to roll."

  "Red leader to base, I've been hit."

  "Bride and monkey in position."

  Arthur came away.

  "Are you ready?" Asked Trillian, holding Arthur's hand.

  "Ready for what?" Said Arthur. "I can't tell whether they're planning a wedding or a rock concert."

  "I think it's a bit of both," grinned Trillian. "You know Zaphod. He's hired in a team of crying groupies to make me feel lucky."

  "He doesn't deserve you," said Arthur.

  "Tell him that," said Trillian. "He's giving me an entry in the Guide as the luckiest woman in the Universe."

  A large, ugly creature beckoned them towards him. His hat declared he was a veteran of a Disaster Area tour.

  "The eyes of the Universe are now watching," he said with a far away look in his eye. The other eye was watching for the cue. He stood holding a curtain closed. A magnificent noise came from the other side. A green light flashed above the curtain.

  "You're on!" He opened the curtain and pushed them out.

  They floated in a massive, black arena. They were high in the air and in the distance could make out a platform supporting the specially invited guests. Spotlights picked out Arthur and Trillian as a 640 strong vocal choir burst into glorious song. Arthur looked around for the choir but couldn't see them. The Octogrid Vocal Choir was there in voice if not in body.

  The Octogrid Vocal Choir was the most successful choir in the Universe. They contained the best voices ever heard. That was because some bright spark, called Ip, thought what a waste it was when singers died and so indulged in some grave digging. He rescued the vocal chords of some great singers and stretched them across an octagonal shaped grid. He used a computer to stretch and contract the grid and spun the grid on its axis so air passed through the vocal chords to create sound. Ip built up his collection until he had enough to create eight grids of eighty voices and created an octophonic choir. This was fine until it was found that one singer had copyrighted his voice, which prevented it's use after the owner's death. A long, arduous and extremely profitable (for the lawyers) court case followed which eventually ended up being settled out of court by murdering the lawyers. The copyright firm signed up the choir, giving Ip a massive settlement, which he used to put himself through Law School and later successfully sued the School for malpractice.

  The Octogrids had been bordered by reflective strips, which caught the spotlights and scattered them all over. Suddenly, Arthur and Trillian took flight and flew around the arena at a frightening speed. Lighting gantries exploded into light and the choir spun themselves into a frenzy. Arthur and Trillian dive bombed the platform and landed with great delicacy besides Zaphod.

  "Nice entrance," he whispered. "You should have been here for mine."

  The lights dimmed and the choir settled down a bit. From above a shower of diamond shaped metal plates came down, the spotlights dancing through them. The plates stopped above the platform, held there by a magnetic field. The technicians tweeked the field generator and the plates revolved. Lasers burst out from nowhere into the magnetic field, deflecting everywhere. It put even the largest glitterball to shame. The choir whipped themselves up again as a priest floated down in front of the altar. They reached an orgasm of sound (you had to be there) and fell silent.

  Cameras locked in on the priest as he beckoned the couple forward.

  "Well?" He said.

  "Okay." Said Trillian.

  "Why not." Followed Zaphod.

  The choir erupted again as did the lights and the lasers.

  The ceremony was over.

  CHAPTER 64

  The reception was a loud, brash affair at Zaphod's home. The swimming pool was filled with Old Janx Spirit and Ford was one of the first to dive in. Bolo dived in to save him when he tried to drain the pool orally.

  Arthur and Fenchurch stood by the food, trying to identify something that looked appetising and edible. It was a long fruitless search.

  "I wouldn't s
ay it was the most romantic wedding I've ever been to," said Arthur.

  "It was certainly one of the best gigs I've been to," laughed Fenchurch.

  "Still, I suppose the priest could do it another way, if you asked him," said Arthur.

  "Probably."

  "Not that I was thinking of asking him."

  "Of course not."

  Arthur looked deeply into a Kopwilsilus dip.

  "Arthur, let's get married."

  Arthur looked up.

  "What? Why did you have to say that?"

  "It seemed like you were having trouble."

  "You've ruined all my plans, I was just building up to a big speech." Arthur looked back at the dip, which seemed to look back.

  "I'm sorry, pretend I never said it."

  "Well it's a bit difficult now."

  "Arthur, ask me."

  "Fenchurch, will you marry me?"

  "I'll have to think about it."

  Arthur picked up the dip in mock anger

  "I've thought about it. I will."

  "I'll get the priest."

  "I don't want to get married here, I want to get married on Earth."

  "But that's omps away from here."

  "Well I'm sure Zaphod or Ford will lend you a towel and you've still got your copy of the Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. We can leave after the party." She paused.

  "You know, I'm really getting into this hitch-hiking lark."

  PROLOGUE

  Space, like a second sentence, can be big, confusing and needs going through twice to really understand it. One of the few ways to comprehend how big space can be, is to be subjected to the total perspective vortex, but as this usually leads to death unless your ego is as large as say, Zaphod Beeblebrox's, it is just as well to accept everyone's word that it is. Distances can therefore become ridiculously large, large enough for those tired with light years (and the enormous slide rules needed to calculate in light years) to invent new, exciting words for inexorably large distances. A Kirpcatorno is now widely accepted as a pretty long way (say 23474 to the power of the collective ages of those at a reasonably successful party) and an 'Omp' is about twice as far as a 'Kirpcatorno.