Chapter 23 Chapter Twenty-Three

The cellar was very large, with low ceilings and dim lighting.At its far end, about two hundred yards away, an archway led to what seemed to be the same room, also full of things. After descending into the cellar, Chief Ford whistled lowly. "It's crazy," he said. "What kind of dead people are these? It's such a spectacle," Arthur asked, following him nervously into the cellar. "Don't know," said Ford. "Let's find out, shall we?" On closer inspection, these coffins seem more like sarcophagi.It's about waist high, looks like it's made of white marble, it sure is - it only looks like one thing - and that's white marble.The top is translucent, and the inside can be vaguely seen. It is estimated that the deceased is being remembered -- they have human characteristics, and they have obviously left behind the troubles of whatever world they came from.Other than that, nothing else can be seen,

A heavy, almost oily gas slowly surged around the ground between the sarcophagi-at first, Arthur thought it was just to create a gloomy atmosphere for the place, but then he found that his ankle joint was injured by the gas. The gas froze.The sarcophagus itself was cold to the touch. Suddenly Ford crouched down on a sarcophagus beside them, pulled a corner of his towel from his knapsack, and began mopping something violently. "Look, there's a plaque on this coffin," he explained to Arthur, "covered with frost." He wiped off the frost and began to decipher the inscriptions that to Arthur looked like the footprints of a spider that had haunted the night, but Ford persisted in deciphering this early form of galactic writing.

"It says 'Golga Flintham's Ark Fleet, Ship B, Hold 7, Telephone Disinfector 2nd Class'—and then a set of numbers." "A man who sanitized phones?" said Arthur. "A dead phone sanitizer." "A dead phone sanitizer is the best phone sanitizer!" "But what is he doing here?" Ford peered at the man inside through the lid of the sarcophagus. "Nothing," he said, with a sudden grin; the kind of grin that would make one think he's been exhausted lately and should take a break: He rushed to another sarcophagus and after a while of toweling, he announced: "This man is a dead hairdresser, oops!"

The next sarcophagus is the final resting place of an advertising account manager; the next one is a salesman waiting for a second-hand car, An inspection hatch protruding into the ground caught Ford's interest.Crouching down, he tried to open it, and at the same time dissipate the frozen gas that was almost enveloping him, Arthur suddenly had an idea. "If these are just coffins," he said, "why cryopreserve them?" "It's better to say, why should these coffins be kept," said Ford, and finally opened the hatch.Gas began to sink toward the mouth of the hole? "Seriously, why would anyone go to the trouble and expense of transporting 5,000 dead bodies in space?"

"Ten thousand," said Arthur, pointing to the archway through which another room could be seen dimly. Ford plunged his head into the hatch in the ground, then lifted it up again. "Fifteen thousand!" he said, "and many more below." "Fifteen million." said a voice; "That's a lot," said Ford, "that's a lot." "Turn around slowly," the voice ordered loudly, "put your hands up. If you dare to move a little bit, I will blow you to pieces." "Hello?" said Ford, turning slowly, throwing up his hands, and then saying nothing else.

"Why," said Arthur Dent, "someone would not like to see us," Standing by the door by which they had entered the cellar, this man who did not like to see them could be seen only in outline.His reluctance was conveyed in part through the shouted threats they brandished a long silver vaporizing bombardment gun whose designers had apparently been instructed to take the job as seriously as possible. "Make it evil," he was told, "so that the right end and the wrong end can be clearly distinguished. Make it clear to anyone who is on the wrong end that what is about to happen to them What a terrible thing to do with the body. If that means putting nails and spikes and little dark black parts on it, so be it: this isn't one to hang over a fireplace or stick in an umbrella stand Gun, this is a gun that can be taken out to make people miserable."

Ford and Arthur stared at the gun, certainly not happy. The man with the gun came by the door and started circling them.When he stepped into the light, they saw that he was wearing a matching black and gold uniform, with buttons so polished that they shone brightly enough to make an approaching motorist flash annoyedly. Headlights in protest. He gestured towards the door. "Outside," he said.For someone who can unleash such ferocious firepower, there's no need to use any verbs at all.Ford and Arthur walked out, followed by the wrong end of the vaporizer and the buttons. No sooner had they returned to the corridor than they were pushed and fucked by twenty-four oncoming joggers.The guys had been showered and changed by now, and the jogger rushed past them into the cellar.Arthur looked back at them, puzzled.

"Go!" cried their captor. Arthur had to keep going. Ford shrugged and walked forward. In the cellar, those jogging and exercising guys came to the twenty-four empty sarcophagi by the wall, opened the lid, climbed in, and began twenty-four dreamless sleeps.