And Another Thing... Part 23

'No. All must bow down to the Cheese.'

'Appease the Cheese.'

It was Hillman's turn to sigh. 'I suppose we have to fight, then.'

'It is the only way. But no hitting in the face.'

'Of course not. We're not animals. And no goolies.'

'We are forbidden to make contact with the goolies of non-believers, except through gloves of curd, which we haven't managed to fabricate yet.'

'So no face, no goolies.'

Buff was being held back by an invisible bungee. 'Come on, let's just go.'

'One more thing,' said Aseed. 'I will be fighting, as will my disciples, with my churning hand in my pocket, so in the spirit of fair play...'

'So one-handed, no face, no goolies?'

'Agreed. If we win, then you will join our happy group; if you win, then we keep coming back until we win.'

Hillman closed his eyes and listened for the voice of his Nano.

What should I do, Nano?

The answer was immediate: Batter this crowd of steamers, Hillers. Give them a beating they won't forget Batter this crowd of steamers, Hillers. Give them a beating they won't forget.

Righto, Nano, righto.

Aloud he said: 'Okay, Buff, do your worst.'

Buff Orpington's grin seemed to reveal more teeth than were usually found in a human mouth.

'Aaaarghhh!' he cried, beating his chest like a bear, images of burning monasteries flas.h.i.+ng behind his eyes. 'Death to the Tyromancers!'

'Or at least a sound thras.h.i.+ng,' said Hillman, thumbing the strimmer's power b.u.t.ton.

'No goolies,' squealed Aseed as the mammoth Buff Orpington bore down on him. 'No g-o-o-o-o-o-lies.'

Then an enormous cheese wheel appeared in the sky, revolving over the combatants' heads, emitting an ominous hum. This sudden and most unexpected apparition s.h.i.+fted the crowd's focus faster than the appearance of Eccentrica Gallumbits wearing a neon T-s.h.i.+rt flas.h.i.+ng the slogan 'Freebie Friday' would s.h.i.+ft the focus of the crowd at a Virgin-Nerd convention on a Friday. Even Buff Orpington's battle spasm drained from his skull, leaving a mist of disbelief behind it.

'It can't be!' he said. 'I don't believe it.'

Aseed Preflux turned paler than a slice of double cream Cheddar.

'Ed.a.m.nation!' he howled, touching his fingers to his forehead. 'You have brought it upon us, Hillman Hunter!'

Hillman powered down the strimmer. 'What? No. Surely not. This can't be right. Seriously?'

Aseed and his band of Tyromancers, triangling furiously, backed away from the compound wall.

'We won't die for your sins, Hunter. Face the wrath of the Wheel alone.'

The Tyromancers turned on their heels and ran, which is not easy when bowing and making the sign of the Cheese, with the result that more than half their number took tumbles into the overgrown borders before eventually scrambling into the golf carts and whining back the way they came as fast as the electric motors would permit, quite prepared to run the personal trainer gauntlet. If the Cheese had wanted to catch and smite them, it shouldn't have been a problem. But it seemed as though the Cheese was quite content to hover imperiously above the Nanites.

'What do you think?' asked Hillman, shooting the words out of the side of his mouth towards Buff.

Buff shrugged his meaty shoulders. 'I'm not sure. Gouda maybe, or Cheddar.'

The Cheese decided that it had had enough of being a cheese and so, for a change, became a rolling eye, which was one of its favourites.

Hillman sighed ma.s.sively and his entire body relaxed as though his bones had jellified. 'Of course. I should have known.'

The enormous eye rolled madly then turned into a view screen which seemed to be playing some kind of reality show featuring a behemoth called Pinky. Pinky ran amok for a few seconds then the screen exploded in a cloud of small furry b.a.l.l.s with teeth; teeth that ate their own fur to reveal a glowing white s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p underneath. A s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p so cool that it made other cool s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps such as the Sirius All-s.p.a.ce Off-Worlder look about as cool as a cl.u.s.ter of pimples on the nose of a forty-year-old man who was riding a bicycle with stabilizers around his office during a presentation on more efficient ways to unblock sewage pipes.

Guide Note: This a.n.a.logy works pretty well just about everywhere, except in the town of Shank near the famous Infinity Spools of Allosimanius Syneca. Shank is inhabited by Pshawrians, who are taught from infancy to defy expectations. In fact, anyone who meets expectations is given three chances and then hurled from the finger-shaped peaks of the Mooncliffs. In actuality, people rarely get three chances, because that's what they expect. In Shank, a spotty forty-year-old man on a stabilized bike would be the epitome of unexpected coolness. The fact that the presentation was about sewage pipes would be seen as a nice touch, seeing as g on Allosimanius Syneca is only 1.2 metres per second squared and waste matter simply floats off into s.p.a.ce.

The gleaming white s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p wobbled a bit then solidified with a noise like a huge slice of lemon colliding with a giant gold brick. A section of the fuselage fizzled like a gla.s.s of soda then disappeared altogether, revealing a tall, helmeted figure whose aura seemed to contain a choir of angels singing 'Thor' in divine harmony.

'Hallelujah,' whispered Hillman.

Buff Orpington sank to his knees, weeping.

9.

The Tanngrisnir Tanngrisnir Bowerick Wowbagger's longs.h.i.+p slipped out of dark s.p.a.ce like an eel from a reef's shadowy depths, its engines emitting jets of exotic blue flame that crystallized when they encountered real s.p.a.ce. Inside the Tanngrisnir Tanngrisnir there was not a single pa.s.senger who had not been substantially altered by the journey. there was not a single pa.s.senger who had not been substantially altered by the journey.

This was partly the fault of the s.p.a.ce itself, as the sleeve of dark matter is largely an emotional construct and can serve as an accelerant for feelings that may otherwise have taken years to develop. For a being of the light, gazing even for a moment into the heart of dark s.p.a.ce has an effect equivalent to a dozen near-death experiences. It's the Universe's way of telling you to get on with your life. Which is a good thing if the feeling budding in a person's heart is a good feeling.

As the s.h.i.+p backed into Nano's atmosphere then swung around in a lazy meander towards the larger of two settlements, scanning every atom of the planet as it did so, the pa.s.sengers inside its amorphous hull were reeling with conflicting emotions that seemed to push their hearts against their ribs and swell their brains to bursting.

Trillian Could I love him? Could I? Is it possible that after all this time I can just b.u.mp into a man in the middle of a planetary destruction and fall for him?

But he's not a man, is he? Christ, girl, you don't even know what he is. You don't have the first clue about this Wowbagger guy or his physiology. What a hoot that would be on the wedding night. Wouldn't mother's ghost laugh then if your brand new husband expected you to lay a few eggs on the carpet for him to fertilize?

Ugh. No, it's too much, I couldn't. I can't.

Why can't you? You gave everything up for Zaphod and you didn't love him. He was interesting, certainly, but you didn't love him. And now you have a chance to be happy and you're turning up your nose.

My nose. Arthur loved my nose. Maybe there's still a chance for Arthur and me... It would certainly be tidy.

You don't love Arthur. You never did and, anyway, he's still utterly besotted with Fenchurch.

And what about Random? She needs you now. You left her once before, remember? You promised that this life would be for your daughter.

But will denying my own happiness make my child happy?

That's the way it generally works, isn't it?

But I love him. I love him, Mum!

Who are you calling Mum? Get a grip on yourself, girl.

I can love two people, can't I? That's allowed.

Maybe, but Random comes first.

Random Put me in a b.l.o.o.d.y tube, will they? I'll show them. Mr Immortal thinks he's immortal, does he? Maybe he should browse the Sub-Etha a little more. Maybe, if his computer wasn't so busy making goo-goo eyes at my dad, it would have picked up on a very remote article on a very remote site that tells the story of Pyntolaga, the Six-fingered Immortal of Santraginus, who was cursed with immortality by an irradiated electronic muscle stimulation slimming belt, and how he was eventually killed.

So, Bowerick Wowbagger wants to die, does he? Well, what sort of an ingrate would I be if I didn't help him on his way?

small voice: You were a politician. A loving wife. The President of the Galaxy... now you're planning to help this person get himself killed?

I lost my husband and my job and my future. It's time to start thinking about me.

small voice: Fair enough. Kill him then.

Bowerick Wowbagger Could it be love? Could it?

Come on, Bow Wow, that's the dark matter talking.

No. I can handle my dark matter. I've been living in this s.h.i.+p for years. I think I actually love this woman. You see it all the time, in nearly every single movie I have ever watched: people making instant connections, love at first sight, the Thunderbolt.

This is not a movie. You should tune into a news channel once in a while, see how many love thunderbolts are featured.

It is is love. It could be. Why shouldn't it be? After all this time, don't I deserve something? love. It could be. Why shouldn't it be? After all this time, don't I deserve something?

You deserve to die. Isn't that what you've longed for all these years?

Yes, but only because there was nothing for me. Nothing but a computer on a stolen s.h.i.+p. Now there is something. Someone.

Don't lose focus here. You have a real shot at getting yourself killed. Don't blow it all over a mortal.

I was mortal once. They're not so bad.

Oh, really? Who are you and what have you done with the real Bow Wowbagger? Because correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we spend the last several thousand years insulting mortals? Don't you have a complete set of The Total t.o.s.s.e.r's Thesaurus The Total t.o.s.s.e.r's Thesaurus?

Yes, but...

And... and and haven't you claimed to be in love before? haven't you claimed to be in love before?

Yes, but that was different. I thought it was love but I see now it was just an absence of disgust. Trillian has qualities.

Trillian. If that is her real name.

Now you're just nitpicking.

All I know is that for the first time in I don't know how long you have a chance to be dead. Not a big chance, granted. But if that fool Beeblebrox comes through, then there is a a chance at least. Are you prepared to risk all that because you've taken a fancy to a mortal? chance at least. Are you prepared to risk all that because you've taken a fancy to a mortal?

Yes. If she will have me, I'll risk it all. If not, back to Plan A.

Which is?

Insult everyone on the planet and try to get myself killed.

Amen to that.

Arthur This is ridiculous. I have spent most of this incredible journey talking to the hardware.

Actually, you've been talking to yourself. The computer dips into your memories and compiles appropriate responses from previous conversations. If you listen carefully, you might hear the blip where the sentences have been spliced together.

I know. I know. But it's hard to tear oneself away. I lost Fenchurch once and it nearly killed me. Even now, after all this time, I still think about her constantly.

All this time? It hasn't been that long.

I am counting my virtual life. I spent a lot of time on that beach drawing pictures of Fenchurch.

I know. They were awful. We need to move on.

You mean until the Vogons destroy this new planet?

Or until I save it. I have saved planets before, you know.

I think we're on our last life there, mate. How many more destroyed worlds can we possibly survive? None, that's how many.

Wowbagger can shoo the Vogons. Or Thor, whoever wins. There's an entire Universe out there and we are a part of it. I don't want to spend the rest of our life playing mental footsie with a box of capacitors and chips.

I know. You're right, but it's safe here. Absolutely no one can find us, let alone threaten us with thermonuclear weapons.

So we stay here for ever.

No... I suppose not.

So what are we going to do?

Move on.

I'm not feeling it.

Move on!

Okay. Fenchurch forgotten?