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itchhikerGuide

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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frankly gives me the screaming heeby jeebies, you know what I
mean? It was by the merest lucky chance that Benji and I finished
our particular job and left the planet early for a quick holiday,
and have since manipulated our way back to Magrathea by the good
offices of your friends."
"Magrathea is a gateway back to our own dimension," put in Benji.
"Since when," continued his murine colleague, "we have had an
offer of a quite enormously fat contract to do the 5D chat show
and lecture circuit back in our own dimensional neck of the
woods, and we're very much inclined to take it."
"I would, wouldn't you Ford?" said Zaphod promptingly.
"Oh yes," said Ford, "jump at it, like a shot."
Arthur glanced at them, wondering what all this was leading up
to.
"But we've got to have a product you see," said Frankie, "I mean
ideally we still need the Ultimate Question in some form or
other."
Zaphod leaned forward to Arthur.
"You see," he said, "if they're just sitting there in the studio
looking very relaxed and, you know, just mentioning that they
happen to know the Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything,
and then eventually have to admit that in fact it's Forty-two,
then the show's probably quite short. No follow-up, you see."
"We have to have something that sounds good," said Benji.
"Something that sounds good?" exclaimed Arthur. "An Ultimate
Question that sounds good? From a couple of mice?"
The mice bristled.
"Well, I mean, yes idealism, yes the dignity of pure research,
yes the pursuit of truth in all its forms, but there comes a
point I'm afraid where you begin to suspect that if there's any
real truth, it's that the entire multi-dimensional infinity of
the Universe is almost certainly being run by a bunch of maniacs.
And if it comes to a choice between spending yet another ten
million years finding that out, and on the other hand just taking
the money and running, then I for one could do with the
exercise," said Frankie.
"But ..." started Arthur, hopelessly.
"Hey, will you get this, Earthman," interrupted Zaphod. "You are
a last generation product of that computer matrix, right, and you
were there right up to the moment your planet got the finger,
yeah?"
"Er ..."
"So your brain was an organic part of the penultimate
configuration of the computer programme," said Ford, rather
lucidly he thought.
"Right?" said Zaphod.
"Well," said Arthur doubtfully. He wasn't aware of ever having
felt an organic part of anything. He had always seen this as one
of his problems.
"In other words," said Benji, steering his curious little vehicle
right over to Arthur, "there's a good chance that the structure
of the question is encoded in the structure of your brain - so we
want to buy it off you."
"What, the question?" said Arthur.
"Yes," said Ford and Trillian.
"For lots of money," said Zaphod.
"No, no," said Frankie, "it's the brain we want to buy."
"What!"
"I thought you said you could just read his brain
electronically," protested Ford.
"Oh yes," said Frankie, "but we'd have to get it out first. It's
got to be prepared."
"Treated," said Benji.
"Diced."
"Thank you," shouted Arthur, tipping up his chair and backing
away from the table in horror.
"It could always be replaced," said Benji reasonably, "if you
think it's important."
"Yes, an electronic brain," said Frankie, "a simple one would