`Hang on, can I write this down?’ said Arthur, excitedly fumbling in his pocket for a pencil.
`You can pick up a copy at the spaceport,’ said the old man . `They’ve got racks of the stuff.’
`Oh,’ said Arthur, disappointed. `Well, isn’t there anything that’s perhaps a bit more specific to me?’
`Everything you see or hear or experience in any way at all is specific to you. You create a universe by perceiving it, so everything in the universe you perceive is specific to you.’
Arthur looked at him doubtfully. `Can I get that at the spaceport, too?’ he said.
`Check it out,’ said the old man.
`It says in the brochure,’ said Arthur, pulling it out of his pocket and looking at it again, `that I can have a special prayer, individually tailored to me and my special needs.’
`Oh, all right,’ said the old man. `Here’s a prayer for you. Got a pencil?’
`Yes,’ said Arthur.
`It goes like this. Let’s see now: “Protect me from knowing what I don’t need to know. Protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that I don’t know. Protect me from knowing that I decided not to know about the things that I decided not to know about. Amen.” That’s it. It’s what you pray silently inside yourself anyway, so you may as well have it out in the open.’
`Hmmm,’ said Arthur. `Well, thank you -‘
`There’s another prayer that goes with it that’s very impor- tant,’ continued the old man, `so you’d better jot this down, too.’
`OK.’
`It goes, “Lord, lord, lord…” It’s best to put that bit in, just in case. You can never be too sure “Lord, lord, lord. Protect me from the consequences of the above prayer. Amen…” And that’s it. Most of the trouble people get into in life comes from missing out that last part.’
`Ever heard of a place called Stavromula Beta?’ asked Arthur.
`No.’
`Well, thank you for your help,’ said Arthur.
`Don’t mention it,’ said the man on the pole, and vanished.
10
Ford hurled himself at the door of the editor-in-chief’s office, tucked himself into a tight ball as the frame splintered and gave way once again, rolled rapidly across the floor to where the smart grey crushed leather sofa was and set up his strategic operational base behind it.
That, at least, was the plan.
Unfortunately the smart grey crushed leather sofa wasn’t there.
Why, thought Ford, as he twisted himself round in mid-air, lurched, dived and scuttled for cover behind Harl’s desk, did people have this stupid obsession with rearranging their office furniture every five minutes?
Why, for instance, replace a perfectly serviceable if rather muted grey crushed leather sofa with what appeared to be a small tank?
And who was the big guy with the mobile rocket launcher on his shoulder? Someone from head office? Couldn’t be. This was head office. At least it was the head office of the Guide. Where these InfiniDim Enterprises guys came from Zarquon knew. Nowhere very sunny, judging from the slug-like colour and texture of their skins. This was all wrong, thought Ford. People connected with the Guide should come from sunny places.
There were several of them, in fact, and all of them seemed to be more heavily armed and armoured than you normally expected corporate executives to be, even in today’s rough and tumble business world.
He was making a lot of assumptions here, of course. He was assuming that the big, bull-necked, slug-like guys were in some way connected with InfiniDim Enterprises, but it was a reasonable assumption and he felt happy about it because they had logos on their armour-plating which said `InfiniDim Enterprises’ on them. He had a nagging suspicion that this was not a business meeting, though. He also had a nagging feeling that these slug-like creatures were familiar to him in some way. Familiar, but in an unfamiliar guise.
Well, he had been in the room for a good two and a half seconds now, and thought that it was probably about time to start doing something constructive. He could take a hostage. That would be good.
Vann Harl was in his swivel chair, looking alarmed, pale and shaken. Had probably had some bad news as well as a nasty bang to the back of his head. Ford leapt to his feet and made a running grab for him. Under the pretext of getting him into a good solid double underpinned elbow-lock, Ford managed surreptitiously to slip the Ident-i-Eeze back into Harl’s inner pocket.