Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen

"Nothing is lost forever," said Slartibartfast.His face was red in the candlelight.The robot waiter was about to take the candles away, "except for Charson Cathedral." "That's it?" Arthur was surprised. "Charson Cathedral," repeated Slarti Bartfast, "while I was working on 'Real Time Movement', I..." "That's it?" Arthur asked again. The old man paused to collect his thoughts.He hoped this was the last time he was interrupted.In the space-time matrix, the robot waiter quickly grabbed the candle and took it away with a very interesting movement mixed with displeasure and flattery.Bills in hand, they debated furiously over who ate the fajitas and how many bottles of wine.Thus, as Arthur had vaguely noticed, the above actions succeeded in causing the ship to leave subjective space and enter the orbit of a strange planet.The waiter was busy doing a crossword puzzle at this time, and when he was done it was time to clean up the restaurant.

"Everything will become clear," Slartibartfast said. "when?" "Within a minute. Listen, time is heavily polluted right now, with a lot of filth, debris, litter floating around in it. This stuff is flowing back into the physical world. Vortex in the space-time continuum, you see." "I've heard of it," said Arthur. "Well, where are we going?" Ford swung impatiently from behind the desk in the swivel chair. "I can't wait to go." "We're going," said Slartibartfast, slowly and deliberately, "to prevent the robots from retrieving all the keys. They're going to use it to open the requested slow-time cover, and let their army out, and the madness master."

"But," said Ford, "you mentioned a party." "I did." Slartibartfast lowered his head. He realized it was a mistake.It would produce a strange and unhealthy enthusiasm in Ford.Slati Bartfas tells more about the dark tragic history of the stars and the people of Banqiu.The more Ford wanted to get drunk and dance with the girls. The old man felt that he really shouldn't mention the party unless it was absolutely necessary.But there it was, the story was out, and Ford was already fighting, like an arcturian giant leech fighting its victim.That thing would bite off the victim's head and steal his spaceship.

"When," asked Ford eagerly, "start?" "After I tell you why you're going." "I know why I'm going." Ford leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and smiled with a convulsive smile. Slarti Bartfast had looked forward to an easy retirement. He had planned to learn to play "tight belly phone" - a fun and boring task.He knew because his mouth was not the right size for this. He, too, had intended to write something grotesque, a poignant and merciless treatise.The subject was the fjords of the equator, and the purpose was to overthrow something he thought important.

[① Equatorial fjords: Fjords only exist near the poles, such as Norway, etc. - at least on our earth. ——Translator's Note] However, he was eventually persuaded to take a part-time job for the Real Time Movement, taking it seriously for the first time in his life.As a result, he finds himself spending the rest of his life fighting evil in an effort to save the galaxy. He found it a tiring job, and sighed heavily. "Listen," he said, "in real luck..." "What?" said Arthur. "Real time movement. I'll tell you right away. I noticed there that there were five discards that were closer to us that seemed to match the five parts of the key. I could only trace two of them— Wooden pillars—appeared on your planet, and silver crossbars, at a party, it seems. We've got to get it back before the begging droids. Otherwise, who knows what's going to happen?"

"No," said Ford firmly. "We've got to go to the party and the goal is to get drunk and dance with the girls." "Don't you understand? I..." "Yeah," said Ford suddenly and forcefully, "I get it pretty well. That's why I drink as much as I can and dance with as many girls as I can while they're left. If you show us both If it's true..." "Really? Of course it's true." "Then we don't even have a chance of success on a supernova." "A what?" interrupted Arthur, who had been trying tenaciously to understand the conversation between the two men, and he couldn't let his train of thought stop here.

"A snail's chance on a supernova," repeated Ford, keeping his tone forceful. "that……" "What does a snail have to do with a supernova?" Arthur asked. "Not at all," said Ford dryly. "No chance of a relationship." He paused to see if he had made himself clear.Unfortunately, Arthur's confused application told him that he didn't make it clear. "A supernova," Ford said as quickly and clearly as he could, "is a star that explodes at nearly half the speed of light, burns at a billion suns brightness, and then collapses in the form of a superheavy neutron star. It will A star that burns other stars, understand? Nothing stands a chance in a supernova."

"Got it," said Arthur. "that……" "Then why is it a snail?" "Why can't it be a snail? It doesn't matter." Arthur accepted this statement.Ford then went on, trying to sound as forceful as he had been. "The point," he said, "is that people like you, me, Arthur—especially Arthur—are half-assed, cranky, bastards, idiots--if you will." Slartibartfast frowned, half confused, half displeased.He wanted to say something. "..." That was all he could say. "We're not obsessed with anything. Get it," Ford said plausibly.

"..." "And that's the key factor. We can't win the possessed. They care, we don't. They win." "I care about a lot of things," said Slartibartfast, his voice trembling with half annoyance and half uncertainty. "for example?" "Well," said the old man, "life, the universe, everything. Really. Fjords." "Would you die for them?" "Fjord?" Slartibartfast blinked in surprise, "No." "It's Luo." "But I still don't know the point, frankly." "I don't know what connection it has," said Arthur, "with the whelk."

Ford felt that the conversation was getting out of his hands, but he did not allow any change of subject. "The point is," he took a breath, "we're not obsessed, we've never had a chance to..." "You've suddenly become obsessed with the conch," added Arthur. "I still don't understand." "Can you not talk about the snail!?" "I won't talk if you don't," said Arthur. "You started." "I was wrong," Ford said, "forget about it. That's the point." He leaned forward, propping his forehead with his fingers.

"What did I just say?" he asked weakly. "Let's go to the party," said Slartibartfast, "whatever it is." He stood up, shaking his head. "I think that's what I'm going to say," Ford said. For some reason, the transmission channel is in the bathroom.