Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen

in the bar.Zaphod soon became as weary as a salamander.His two heads touched together, and the smiles on the two eyelids also became inconsistent.he was so happy "Zaphod," said Ford, "can you tell me what happened while you were still able to speak clearly? Where have you been? Where have we been? It's a little thing, I suppose. Figure it out." The head on Zaphod's left came to sobriety, leaving the one on the right sinking further into a drunken twilight. "Yes," he said, "I went for a long walk. They wanted me to find the man who rules the universe, but I don't want to meet him at all. That guy can't cook."

The words came from his right head, and the left head looked at the right head and nodded. "That's right," it said, "have another drink." Ford downed another Pan Galactic Gargle Blast, described as the alcoholic equivalent of mugging—expensive, and bad for the head: whoever, Ford decided, didn't really care. "Listen, Ford," said Zaphod, "everything is going well, all is well." "You're saying everything is under control." "No," said Zaphod, "I don't mean it's under control, that wouldn't be cool, if you want to know what's going on, let's just put it this way, the whole thing is in my In your pocket. Is that all right?"

ford shrugged Zaphod giggled back to his glass.The foam overflowed the rim of the glass and began to flow onto the marble top of the bar. A rough-looking space gypsy walked up to them and played the electric violin at them, and he didn't leave satisfied until Zaphod gave him a large sum of money. The gypsy crossed over to Arthur and Trillian, who sat at the other end of the bar. "I don't know what this place is," said Arthur, "but I think it's creepy." "Have another drink," said Trillian, "and enjoy it:" "These two things are mutually exclusive," said Arthur, "which one do you want me to do'"

"Poor Arthur, you don't really mean to live in such pessimism, do you?" "You call this life?" "Sounds like you're starting to look like Marvin" "Marvin is the clearest thinker I know. How do you think we get rid of the fiddler?" At this time, the waiter came over. "Your tables are ready," he said. From the outside—although that never happened—the restaurant resembles a gigantic, gleaming starfish perched on a forgotten reef, at the position of each of its arms, sits a sprinkle bar , the kitchen, the force field generators used to maintain the entire structure of its planet and its decaying parts, and the time turbine.The latter controls all of this, slowly moving back and forth on both sides of the important dividing line of the end of the universe, and towards its center sits a huge golden dome, almost as big as a complete planet.This was where Zaphod, Ford, Arthur, and Trillian were now preparing to enter.

At least five tons of glittering matter had entered this space before them, covering every inch of the visible surface, and the rest of the invisible surfaces were invisible because they had already been covered with gemstones, from mulberry Precious shells, gold leaf, mosaic tiles, lizard skins, and a million other unidentifiable ornaments and decorations of Traggins.The glass dazzled, the silver shone, the gold gleamed, and Arthur Dent's eyes widened. "Wow," said Zaphod, "very good." "It's unbelievable!" Arthur gasped a little. "These people! These... guys!"

"These 'guys,'" said Prefect Ford softly, "are really people." "These people..." Arthur resumed, "these... other... fellows..." "These lights..." Trillian said. "These tables..." said Arthur. "These clothes..." Trillis said again. The waiters heard it and felt that they were like a group of housekeepers. "The restaurant at the end of the universe is very popular," said Zaphod, staggering through the dense cluster of tables... some of which were marble, some of fine mahogany, and some even of platinum.At each table sat a group of strange creatures, chatting and studying recipes.

"People like to dress up and eat here," Zaphod continued, "that's why it's so grand here." The tables fan out around a center stage, forming a large circle.On the stage, a small band is playing light music.Arthur estimates that there are at least a thousand tables here.Interspersed with swaying palms, hissing fountains, grotesque sculptures, in short, all the accoutrements of restaurants that go out of their way to give the impression they spared no expense on filling.Arthur looked around, probably hoping to see someone paying with an Amex. Suddenly Zaphod leaned toward Ford, and Ford leaned toward Zaphod in turn.

"Wow," said Zaphod. "Excellent," said Ford. "You know, my great-grandfather must have enhanced that computer," said Zaphod, "and I told it to take us to the nearest place we could eat, and it sent us to the end of the universe. Remember to remind me to be nice to it—when we see it someday." He paused. "Hey, everyone's here. Everyone who's been a character." "Was it?" Arthur asked. "At the end of the universe, you have to use the past tense a lot," Zaphod said, "You know, because everything is in the past. Hey, guys," he said to a group of giant iguana-like creatures nearby. Say hello, "How have you been in the past?"

"Is this guy Zaphod Beeblebrox," one iguana asked the other. "I guess so," replied the second iguana. "Worth a cookie for that, then," said the first iguana. "Life is so weird," said the second iguana. "It's your own fault too." said the first one, and then they fell silent again.They await the most spectacular show in the universe. "Hey, Zaphod," said Ford, grabbing his arm.He was a little confused by the Pangalactic gargle blaster.He wavered and held out a finger. "There's an old acquaintance of mine over there," he said. "Hotblack Diciato! See that guy in the platinum gray suit over there at the platinum table?"

Zaphod tried to make his fingers follow Ford's finger, but the result made him feel dizzy.But he saw it at last. "Oh, yes," he said, and it took him a while before he realized it. "Hey," he said, "it's the super big guy who's bigger than the biggest guy ever, except me, of course." "Who is this guy?" Trillian asked. "Hotblack Diciato?" Zaphod asked back in surprise. "Don't you know? Haven't you ever heard of the Disaster Zone?" "No." Trillian said, she had never heard of it. "Biggest," said Ford, "albeit loud..."

"Most profitable," Zaphod reminded. "...rock bands, in the history of music..." He paused for the right word. "In history," Zaphod corrected him. "I've never heard of it." Trillian said. "Ha..." said Zaphod, "we're at the end of the universe now, and you haven't lived through that time yet. No wonder you don't recognize it." He didn't pester her any further, and came with her to the table where the waiter had been waiting.Arthur followed them, feeling very lost, very alone. Ford waded through the pile of desks, trying to reconnect with an old acquaintance. "Hey...well, Holt Lake," he called, "how are you? It's great to see you! How's your music going? You look really fat and sick , It's really surprising!" He patted the man on the back, and found that this action didn't seem to cause any reaction, so he couldn't help being a little surprised... But the pan-galactic gargle blaster was churning in his body, telling him Don't bother with these. "Remember the old days?" he said, "the days when we were hanging out together . Ok?" Hot Black Diciato had no say in whether those days were good or bad.Ford was not disturbed at all. "When we got hungry, we pretended to be public health inspectors, you remember. We cheated and cheated, didn't we? Until we got food poisoning. Oh, and those long nights of talking and drinking, In those smelly rooms above Lewis's Cafe in Gretchen, New York, and you're always hiding in the next room, trying to write your electric guitar sheet music, we all hate those songs, you say We don't care, and we say we're free because we hate them so much." Tears began to well up in Ford's eyes. "You said you didn't want to be a star," he went on, lost in nostalgia for the past, "and I despise stardom for you. We—Hard Twist, Sully and I—say we think You don't have a choice - look at what you've done, you've accepted the reality of stardom!" He turned around, hoping to attract the attention of those at Zhou Nao's table. "Here," he said, "sits a man who has accepted the star system." Hotblack Diciato made no attempt to confirm or deny the claim, and the audience's momentary attention was quickly dissipated. "I think someone's drunk," a disheveled purple creature muttered into its glass of wine. Gutter swayed slightly, then sat down heavily on the chair opposite Hotblack Diciato, "What did you do that time?" he said, unwisely reaching for a bottle, trying to use it for support, but knocking it over...just right into a nearby glass.In order not to waste this pleasant accident, he drained the glass. "That was a great job!" he continued. "How about, 'Bang! Bang! Bang!', the stage show, you actually did it, crashing a spaceship into the sun, and finally. You It actually worked out!" Ford smashed his fist into the other palm, so that this action could be explained graphically, he knocked the bottle over again. "Spaceship! Sun! BANG!" he yelled. "I mean, lasers and all that shit on stage! You guys use solar flames, real suns! Oh, And those terrible songs!" His eyes followed the liquid gurgling from the bottle onto the table, something had to be done about it, he thought. "Hey, would you like a drink," he asked.At last his repressed mind began to realize that there was something missing from this reunion of old friends, and that this lack had in some way to do with the fact that the platinum-gray man sitting across from him The fat guy in the suit and the silver hat has yet to say "Hi Ford" or "It's been a long time, how nice to see you"—or anything else, and more importantly, he even Didn't even move. "Hotblack?" said Ford. A fat hand landed on his shoulder from behind, pushing him away, and he fell out of his seat in embarrassment.Ford looked up to find the owner of the impudent hand.The owner wasn't hard to spot...for he was a seven-foot behemoth, like those leather sofas...polished, chunky, and stuffed with solid stuff.The suit that encloses such a body looks as if its sole purpose is how difficult it is to cram such a body into a suit.The man's face was orange in texture and apple in color, and the resemblance to anything sweet ended there. "Little guy..." A voice rolled out of this man's mouth, as if he had spent a very difficult time in his chest, "Oh, what?" said Ford, in the tone of someone who wants to have a good chat.He staggered back to his feet, disappointed to find that the top of his head was not above the man's shoulders. "Go!" said the man, "Oh, what?" said Ford, surprised at how sober he was. "Who are you?" The man thought for a while that no one had ever asked him such a question before.But even so, it didn't take long for him to think of an answer. "I'm the one to tell you to fuck off," he said, "or to beat your ass off. " "Hey, listen," Ford said nervously, wishing his dizzy head would stop spinning, calm down, and grasp the situation. "Hey, listen," he went on, "I'm one of Hotblack's oldest friends, and . . . " He glanced at Hotblack Diciato, who was still sitting there, not even moving his eyelashes. "...and..." said Ford again, wondering what a good word to add to "and." The big man continued Ding's whole sentence after "and".He spoke it out. "And I am Mr. Diciato's bodyguard. I am responsible for his body, but not yours, so I will take it away so that it will not be harmed." "Hello, wait a minute," said Ford. "What!" boomed the bodyguard. "Can't wait! Mr. Diciato won't talk to anyone!" "You should let him tell himself what he intends," said Ford. "He won't talk to anyone!" growled the bouncer. Ford glanced at Holtbrook and had to admit to himself that this was the truth: there was still no movement on the other side, and Ford's urgency was completely ignored. "Why?" asked Ford. "What happened to him?" The bodyguard told him.