Life, the Universe, and Everything

by Douglas Adams

‘I went mad for a while,’ said Ford, ‘did me no end of good.’

‘I went mad for a while,’ said Ford, ‘did me no end of good.’

‘I have detected,’ he said, ‘disturbances in the wash.’ He gazed keenly into the distance and looked as if he would quite like the wind to blow his hair back dramatically at that point, but the wind was busy fooling around with some leaves a little way off. Arthur asked him to repeat what he had just said because he hadn’t quite taken his meaning. Ford repeated it. ‘The wash?’ said Arthur. ‘The space–time wash,’ said Ford, and as the wind blew briefly past at that moment, he bared his teeth into it. Arthur nodded, and then cleared his throat. ‘Are we talking about,’ he asked cautiously, ‘some sort of Vogon laundromat, or what are we talking about?’ ‘Eddies,’ said Ford, ‘in the space–time continuum.’ ‘Ah,’ nodded Arthur, ‘is he? Is he?’ He pushed his hands into the pocket of his dressing gown and looked knowledgeably into the distance. ‘What?’ said Ford.

‘Er, who,’ said Arthur, ‘is Eddy, then, exactly, then?’ Ford looked angrily at him. ‘Will you listen?’ he snapped. ‘I have been listening,’ said Arthur, ‘but I’m not sure it’s helped.’ Ford grasped him by the lapels of his dressing gown and spoke to him as slowly and distinctly and patiently as if he were somebody from a telephone company accounts department. ‘There seem …’ he said, ‘to be some pools …’ he said, ‘of instability …’ he said, ‘in the fabric …’ he said … Arthur looked foolishly at the cloth of his dressing gown where Ford was holding it. Ford swept on before Arthur could turn the foolish look into a foolish remark. ‘… in the fabric of space–time,’ he said. ‘Ah, that,’ said Arthur. ‘Yes, that,’ confirmed Ford. They stood there alone on a hill on prehistoric Earth and stared each other resolutely in the face. ‘And it’s done what?’ said Arthur. ‘It,’ said Ford, ‘has developed pools of instability.’ ‘Has it?’ said Arthur, his eyes not wavering for a moment. ‘It has,’ said Ford with a similar degree of occular immobility. ‘Good,’ said Arthur. ‘See?’ said Ford. ‘No,’ said Arthur. There was a quiet pause. ‘The difficulty with this conversation,’ said Arthur after a sort of pondering look had crawled slowly across his face like a mountaineer negotiating a tricky outcrop, ‘is that it’s very different from most of the ones I’ve had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees. They weren’t like this. Except perhaps some of the ones I’ve had with elms whic...

Ford got out his Sub-Etha Sens-O-Matic. It was making vague humming noises and a tiny light on it was flickering faintly. ‘Flat battery?’ said Arthur. ‘No,’ said Ford, ‘there is a moving disturbance in the fabric of space–time, an eddy, a pool of instability, and it’s somewhere in our vicinity.’ ‘Where?’ Ford moved the device in a slow, lightly bobbing semi-circle. Suddenly the light flashed. ‘There!’ said Ford, shooting out his arm. ‘There, behind that sofa!’ Arthur looked. Much to his surprise, there was a velvet-paisley-covered Chesterfield sofa in the field in front of them. He boggled intelligently at it. Shrewd questions sprang into his mind. ‘Why,’ he said, ‘is there a sofa in that field?’ ‘I told you!’ shouted Ford, ...

‘I told you!’ shouted Ford, leaping to his feet. ‘Eddies in the space–time continuum!’ ‘And this is his sofa, is it?’ asked Arthur, struggling to his feet and, he hoped,...

Arthur felt happy. He was terribly pleased that the day was for once working out so much according to plan. Only twenty minutes ago he had decided he would go mad, and now here he was already chasing a sofa across the fields of prehistoric Earth.

Arthur felt happy. He was terribly pleased that the day was for once working out so much according to plan. Only twenty minutes ago he had decided he would go mad, and now here he was already chasing a sofa across the fields of prehistoric Earth.

Important facts from Galactic history, number one: (Reproduced from the Siderial Daily Mentioner’s Book of Popular Galactic History.) The night sky over the planet Krikkit is the least interesting sight in the entire Universe.

Important facts from Galactic history, number one: (Reproduced from the Siderial Daily Mentioner’s Book of Popular Galactic History.) The night sky over the planet Krikkit is the least interesting sight in the entire Universe.

‘What I need,’ shouted Ford, by way of clarifying his previous remarks, ‘is a strong drink and a peer-group.’

So, he and his friends, and his friends’ friends, and his friends’ friends’ friends, and his friends’ friends’ friends’ friends, and some rather less good friends of theirs who happened to own a major stellar trucking company, put in what is now widely recognized as being the hardest night’s work in history, and, sure enough, on the following day, Magramal was no longer visible. Effrafax lost his bet – and therefore his life – simply because some pedantic adjudicating official noticed (a) that when walking around the area that Magramal ought to be in he didn’t trip over or break his nose on anything, and (b) a suspicious-looking extra moon. The Somebody Else’s Problem field is much simpler and effective, and what is more can be run for over a hundred years on a single torch battery. This is because it relies on people’s natural predisposition not to see anything they don’t want to, weren’t expecting, or can’t explain. If Effrafax had painted the mountain pink and erected a cheap and simple Somebody Else’s Problem field on it, then people would have walked past the mountain, round it, even over it, and simply never have noticed that the thing was there.

The Bistromathic Drive is a wonderful new method of crossing vast interstellar distances without all that dangerous mucking about with Improbability Factors. Bistromathics itself is simply a revolutionary new way of understanding the behaviour of numbers. Just as Einstein observed that time was not an absolute but depended on the observer’s movement in space, and that space was not an absolute, but depended on the observer’s movement in time, so it is now realized that numbers are not absolute, but depend on the observer’s movement in restaurants. The first non-absolute number is the number of people for whom the table is reserved. This will vary during the course of the first three telephone calls to the restaurant, and then bear no apparent relation to the number of people who actually turn up, or to the number of people who subsequently join them after the show/match/party/gig, or to the number of people who leave when they see who else has turned up. The second non-absolute number is the given time of arrival, which is now known to be one of those most bizarre of concepts, a recipriversexcluson, a number whose existence can only be defined as being anything other than itself. In other words, the given time of arrival is the one moment of time at which it is impossible that any member of the party will arrive. Recipriversexclusons now play a vital part in many branches of maths, including statistics and accountancy and also form the basic equations used to engineer the ...

The mattress flolloped around. This is a thing that only live mattresses in swamps are able to do, which is why the word is not in more common usage.

The mattress globbered. This is the noise made by a live, swamp-dwelling mattress that is deeply moved by a story of personal tragedy. The word can also, according to The Ultra-Complete Maximegalon Dictionary of Every Language Ever, mean the noise made by the Lord High Sanvalvwag of Hollop on discovering that he has forgotten his wife’s birthday for the second year running. Since there was only ever one Lord High Sanvalvwag of Hollop, and he never married, the word is only ever used in a negative or speculative sense, and there is an ever-increasing body of opinion which holds that The Ultra-Complete Maximegalon Dictionary is not worth the fleet of lorries it takes to cart its microstored edition around in. Strangely enough, the dictionary omits the word ‘floopily’, which simply means ‘in the manner of something which is floopy’.

‘One thing,’ he further added, ‘has suddenly ceased to lead to another’ – in contradiction of which he had another drink and slid gracelessly off his chair.

Whilst he slept it off, Trillian did a little research in the ship’s copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. It had some advice to offer on drunkenness. ‘Go to it,’ it said, ‘and good luck.’

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has this to say on the subject of flying. There is an art, it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss. Pick a nice day, it suggests, and try it. The first part is easy. All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it’s going to hurt. That is, it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard. Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, which presents the difficulties. One problem is that you have to miss the ground accidentally. It’s no good deliberately intending to miss the ground because you won’t. You have to have your attention suddenly distracted by something else when you’re halfway there, so that you are no longer thinking about falling, or about the ground, or about how much it’s going to hurt if you fail to miss it. It is notoriously difficult to prise your attention away from these three things during the split second you have at your disposal. Hence most people’s failure, and their eventual disillusionment with this exhilarating and spectacular sport. If, however, you are lucky enough to have your attention momentarily distracted at the crucial moment by, say, a gorgeous pair of legs (tentacles, pseudopodia, according to phylum and/or personal...

Do not listen to what anybody says to you at this point because they are unlikely to say anything helpful. They are most likely to say something along the lines of, ‘Good God, you can’t possibly be flying!’ It is vitally important not to believe them or they will suddenly be right. Waft higher and higher. Try a few swoops, gentle ones at first, then drift above the treetops breathing regularly. DO NOT WAVE AT ANYBODY. When you have done this a few times you will find the moment of distraction rapidly becomes easier and easier to achieve. You will then learn all sorts of things about how to control your flight, your speed, your manoeuvrability, and the trick usually lies in not thinking too hard about whatever you want to do, but just – allowing it to happen as if it was going to anyway. You will also learn about how to land properly, which is something you will almost certainly cock up, and cock up badly, on your first attempt. There are private flying clubs you can join which help you achieve the all-important moment of distraction. They hire people with surprising bodies or opinions to leap out from behind bushes and exhibit and/or explain them at the critical moments. Few genuine hitchhikers will be able to afford to join these clubs, but some may be able to get temporary employment at them.

He inched his way up the corridor as if he would rather be yarding his way down it, which was true.

His High Judgmental Supremacy, Judiciary Pag, LIVR (the Learned, Impartial and Very Relaxed), Chairman of the Board of Judges

‘Bet you weren’t expecting to see me again,’ said the monster, which Arthur couldn’t help thinking was a strange remark for it to make, seeing as he had never met the creature before. He could tell that he hadn’t met the creature before from the simple fact that he was able to sleep at nights.

Good night, good luck, win awards.’

‘Whatever. Do what you do. Do it well.’

Zaphod did not want to tangle with them and, deciding that just as discretion was the better part of valour, so was cowardice the better part of discretion, he valiantly hid himself in a cupboard.