circuits for damage reports.
“The aorist rod chambers are intact,” he said.
“Holy dingo’s dos,” snarled Zaphod, “there are aorist rods on
board…!”
Aorist rods were devices used in a now happily abandoned form of
energy production. When the hunt for new sources of energy had at one
point got particularly frantic, one bright young chap suddenly spotted
that one place which had never used up all its available energy was –
the past. And with the sudden rush of blood to the head that such
insights tend to induce, he invented a way of mining it that very same
night, and within a year huge tracts of the past were being drained of
all their energy and simply wasting away. Those who claimed that the
past should be left unspoilt were accused of indulging in an extremely
expensive form of sentimentality. The past provided a very cheap,
plentiful and clean source of energy, there could always be a few
Natural Past Reserves set up if anyone wanted to pay for their upkeep,
and as for the claim that draining the past impoverished the present,
well, maybe it did, slightly, but the effects were immeasurable and you
really had to keep a sense of proportion.
It was only when it was realised that the present really was being
impoverished, and that the reason for it was that those selfish
plundering wastrel bastards up in the future were doing exactly the same
thing, that everyone realised that every single aorist rod, and the
terrible secret of how they were made would have to be utterly and
forever destroyed. They claimed it was for the sake of their
grandparents and grandchildren, but it was of course for the sake of
their grandparent’s grandchildren, and their grandchildren’s
grandparents.
The official from the Safety and Civil Reassurance Administration
gave a dismissive shrug.
“They’re perfectly safe,” he said. He glanced up at Zaphod and
suddenly said with uncharacteristic frankness, “there’s worse than that
on board. At least,” he added, tapping at one of the computer screens,
“I hope it’s on board.”
The other official rounded on him sharply.
“What the hell do you think you’re saying?” he snapped.
The first shrugged again. He said “It doesn’t matter. He can say what
he likes. No one would believe him. It’s why we chose to use him rather
than do anything official isn’t it? The more wild the story he tells,
the more it’ll sound like he’s some hippy adventurer making it up. He
can even say that we said this and it’ll make him sound like a
paranoid.” He smiled pleasantly at Zaphod who was seething in a suit
full of sick. “You may accompany us,” he told him, “if you wish.”
“You see?” said the official, examining the ultra-titanium outer
seals of the aorist rod hold. “Perfectly secure, perfectly safe.”
He said the same thing as they passed holds containing chemical
weapons so powerful that a teaspoonful could fatally infect an entire
planet.
He said the same thing as they passed holds containing zeta-active
compounds so powerful that a teaspoonful could blow up a whole planet.
He said the same thing as they passed holds containing theta-active
compounds so powerful that a teaspoonful could irradiate a whole planet.
“I’m glad I’m not a planet,” muttered Zaphod.
“You’d have nothing to fear,” assured the official from the Safety
and Civil Reassurance Administration, “planets are very safe. Provided,”
he added – and paused. They were approaching the hold nearest to the
point where the back of the Starship Billion Year Bunker was broken. The
corridor here was twisted and deformed, and the floor was damp and
sticky in patches.
“Ho hum,” he said, “ho very much hum.”
“What’s in this hold?” demanded Zaphod.
“By-products” said the official, clamming up again.
“By-products…” insisted Zaphod, quietly, “of what?”
Neither official answered. Instead, they examined the hold door very
carefully and saw that its seals were twisted apart by the forces that
had deformed the whole corridor. One of them touched the door lightly.
It swung open to his touch. There was darkness inside, with just a
couple of dim yellow lights deep within it.
“Of what?” hissed Zaphod.
The leading official turned to the other.