“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 40
“We must be in Zaphod Beeblebrox’s neighbourhood,” mused Arthur.
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that name,” said Fenchurch, still shaking the rusty particles of an android with a brain the size of a planet from her clothes. “Who or what is it?”
“Zaphod’s just this guy. He was President of the Universe for a while, he may still be. Look in the book, he may be mentioned.” Arthur got the guide out of his souvenir ‘God’s last message to his creation’ holdall. Fenchurch tapped in the code.
“How long have we got?” Asked Fenchurch.
“How long do you need?”
“The time it takes to read ‘War and Peace’ I think. This says page one of 627 pages and the rest of the page is taken up with references to other areas of the book where he is mentioned.”
Arthur took the guide and flipped to page two. More references. Page three. Arthur was hardly turned-on by the sight of Zaphod in a rather tacky pose and was not amused by the caption that read ‘Zaphod is not just a pretty face, for he can ski and likes reading. He can also out-drink and out-cool anyone in the Universe.’ Arthur keyed in another code and got what he wasn’t sure he really wanted.
“You’ve got all the time it takes me to salvage this poor robot and for us to hitch-hike to that address.” Arthur stabbed his finger purposely at the screen. “I want you to meet Zaphod Beeblebrox. That way you’ll appreciate me even more.”
Ford Prefect was indeed in a seedy bar trying to talk somebody into buying him a drink and only achieving success as a total failure in this venture. The expression ‘It is far better to give than receive’ referred only to physical violence in this bar. After leaving Arthur and Fenchurch on their way to where they had just decided to leave, he had decided to find the rather nice girl who offered a comforting service to rich men in Han Dold City. Ford couldn’t shake her devastating smile from his mind. He felt it would be a useful weapon by his side. Besides, having seen Arthur so happy with Fenchurch, so happy that Ford couldn’t irritate him as easily as usual, and Zaphod settling down with Trillian, Ford decided the last thing he wanted to do was be unfashionable and stay single.
So Ford had ventured to the bar where he came very close to being mutilated by an evil looking bird and an arm with a vicious streak and nothing else noticeable. Ford entered the bar, was shocked, stunned and then shocked again. He was convinced this was the same bar but it was now reminiscent of a wine bar he had visited in Hampstead. Gone were the evil overtones and murderous intents. These had been replaced by old French posters and bamboo chairs. The evil looking bird had been stuffed and put over the bar. The arm was opening wine bottles and mixing cocktails.
“Oh it’s you,” said the barman, who now looked unbearably smart. “You’re the one to blame for this.”
“Hi,” said Ford, still looking around. “I’m to blame for what?”
“Your entry in the Hitch-Hiker’s Guide,” muttered the barman.
“Wasn’t it accurate?” Argued Ford, defensive of his life saving piece of prose. “Wasn’t it along the lines of ‘Wretched place with evil overtones and murderous intents’ or something?”