so much time look– ing for it. All I found was planets that were a bit like it or not at all like it, though it was clearly the right place because of the continents. The worst version was called NowWhat where I got bitten by some wretched little animal. That's how they commu– nicated, you know, by biting each other. Bloody painful. Then half the time, of course, the Earth isn't even there because it's been blown up by the bloody Vogons. How much sense am I making?'
Ford didn't comment. He was listening to something. He passed the Guide over to Arthur and pointed at the screen. The active entry read 'Earth. Mostly harmless.'
'You mean it's there!' said Arthur excitedly. 'The Earth is there! That's where Random will be going! The bird was showing her the Earth in the rainstorm!'
Ford motioned Arthur to shout a little less loudly. He was listening.
Arthur was growing impatient. He'd heard bar singers sing 'Love Me Tender' before. He was a bit surprised to hear it here, right in the middle of wherever the hell this was, certainly not Earth, but then things tended not to surprise him these days as much as formerly. The singer was quite good, as bar singers went, if you liked that sort of thing, but Arthur was getting fretful.
He glanced at his watch. This only served to remind him that he didn't have his watch any more. Random had it, or at least the remains of it.
'Don't you think we should be going?' he said, insistently.
'Shhh!' said Ford. 'I paid to hear this song.' He seemed to have tears in his eyes, which Arthur found a bit disturbing. He'd never seen Ford moved by anything other than very, very strong drink. Probably the dust. He waited, tapping his fingers irritably, out of time with the music.
The song ended. The singer went on to do 'Heartbreak Hotel'.
'Anyway,' Ford whispered, 'I've got to review the restaurant.'
'What?'
'I have to write a review.'
'Write a review? Of this place?'
'Filing the review validates the expenses claim. I've fixed it so that it happens completely automatically and untraceably. This bill is going to need some validation,' he added quietly, staring into his beer with a nasty smirk.
'For a couple of beers and a roll?'
'And a tip for the singer.'
'Why, how much did you tip him?'
Ford named a figure again.
'I don't know how much that is,' said Arthur. 'What's it worth in pounds sterling? What would it buy you?'
'It would probably buy you, roughly . . . er . . .' Ford screwed his eyes up as he did some calculations in his head. 'Switzerland,' he said at last. He picked up his Hitch Hiker's Guide and started to type.
Arthur nodded intelligently. There were times when he wished he understood what on earth Ford was talking about, and other times, like now, when he felt it was probably safer not even to try. He looked over Ford's shoulder. 'This isn't going to take long, is it?' he said.
'Nah,' said Ford. 'Piece of piss. Just mention that the rolls were quite good, the beer good and cold, local wildlife nicely eccentric, the bar singer the best in the known universe, and that's about it. Doesn't need much. Just a validation.'
He touched an area on the screen marked ENTER and the message vanished into the Sub-Etha.
'You thought the singer was pretty good then?'
'Yeah,' said Ford. The barman was returning with a piece of paper, which seemed to be trembling in his hand.
He pushed it over to Ford with a kind of nervous, reverential twitch.
'Funny thing,' said the barman. 'The system rejected it first couple times. Can't say it surprised me.' Beads of sweat were standing on his brow. 'Then suddenly it's, oh yeah, that's OK, and the system . . . er, validates it. Just like that. You wanna . . . sign it'?'
Ford scanned the form quickly. He sucked his teeth. 'This is going to hurt InfiniDim a lot,' he said, with an appearance of concern. 'Oh well,' he added softly, 'screw 'em.'
He signed with a flourish and handed it back to the barman.
'More money,' he said, 'than the Colonel made for him in an entire career of doing crap movies and casino gigs. Just for doing what he does best. Standing up and singing in a bar. And he negotiated it himself. I think this is a good moment for him. Tell him I said thanks and buy him a drink.' He tossed a few coins on the bar. The barman pushed them away.
'I don't think that's necessary,' he said, slightly hoarsely.
'Tis to me,' said Ford. 'OK, we are outa here.'
They stood out in the heat and the dust and looked at the big pink and chrome thing with amazement and admiration. Or at least, Ford looked at it with amazement and admiration.
Arthur just looked at it. 'You don't think it's a bit overdone, do you?'
He said it again when they climbed inside it. The seats and quite a lot of the controls were covered in fine fur skin or suede. There was a big gold monogram on the main control panel which just read 'EP'.
'You know,' said Ford as he fired up the ship's engines, 'I asked him if it was true that he had been abducted by aliens, and you know what he said?'
'Who?' said Arthur.
'The King.'
'Which King? Oh, we've had this conversation, haven't we?'
'Never mind,' said Ford. 'For what it's worth, he said, no. He went of his own accord.'
'I'm still not sure who we're talking about,' said Arthur.
Ford shook his head. 'Look,' he said, 'there are some tapes over in the compartment to your left. Why don't you choose some music and put it on?'
'OK,' said Arthur, and flipped through the cartons. 'Do you like Elvis Presley?' he said.
'Yeah I do as a matter of fact,' said Ford. 'Now. I hope this machine can leap like it looks like it can.' He engaged the main drive.
'Yeeehaah!' shouted Ford as they shot upwards at face-tearing speed.
It could.
Chapter 23
The news networks don't like this kind of thing. They regard it as a waste. An incontrovertible spaceship arrives out of nowhere in the middle of London and it is sensational news of the highest magnitude. Another completely different one arrives three and a half hours later and somehow it isn't.
'ANOTHER SPACECRAFT!' said the headlines and news stand billboards. 'THIS ONE'S PINK.' A couple of months later they could have made a lot more of it. The third spacecraft, half an hour after that, the little four berth Hrundi runabout, only made it on to the local news.
Ford and Arthur had come screaming down out of the strato– sphere and parked neatly on Portland Place. It was just after six-thirty in the evening and there were spaces free. They min– gled briefly with the crowd that gathered round to ogle, then said loudly that if no one else was going to call the police they would, and made good their escape.
'Home …' said Arthur, a husky tone creeping into his voice as he gazed, misty-eyed around him. 'Oh don't get all maudlin on me,' snapped Ford. 'We have to find your daughter and we have to find that bird thing.'
'How?' said Arthur. 'This is a planet of five and a half billion people, and . . .'
'Yes,' said Ford. 'But only one of them has just arrived from outer space in a large silver spaceship accompanied by a mechanical bird. I suggest we just find a television and some– thing to drink while we watch it. We need some serious room service '
