Mostly Harmless (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #5)

by Douglas Adams

There was a long pause before the bird answered, ‘You want to go home?’ ‘I haven’t got a home!’ Random almost shocked herself, she screamed the words so loudly. ‘Look into the rain . . .’ said the bird Guide. ‘I’m looking into the rain! What else is there to look at?’ ‘What do you see?’ ‘What do you mean, you stupid bird? I just see a load of rain. It’s just water, falling.’ ‘What shapes do you see in the water?’ ‘Shapes? There aren’t any shapes. It’s just, just . . .’ ‘Just a mish mash,’ said the bird Guide. ‘Yes . . .’ ‘Now what do you see?’ Just on the very edge of visibility a thin faint beam fanned out of the bird’s eyes. In the dry air beneath the overhang there was nothing to see. Where the beam hit the drops of rain as they fell through it, there was a flat sheet of light, so bright and vivid it seemed solid. ‘Oh great. A laser show,’ said Random fractiously. ‘Never seen one of those before, of course, except at about five million rock concerts.’ ‘Tell me what you see!’ ‘Just a flat sheet! Stupid bird.’