da.thehitchhikersguidetothegalaxy-第5部分

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　　Arthur　didn't　notice　that　the　men　were　running　from　the　bulldozers；　he　didn't　notice　that　Mr。　Prosser　was　staring　hectically　into　the　sky。　What　Mr。　Prosser　had　noticed　was　that　huge　yellow　somethings　were　screaming　through　the　clouds。　Impossibly　huge　yellow　somethings。
　　〃And　I　will　carry　on　jumping　on　them；〃　yelled　Arthur；　still　running；　〃until　I　get　blisters；　or　I　can　think　of　anything　even　more　unpleasant　to　do；　and　then。。。〃
　　Arthur　tripped；　and　fell　headlong；　rolled　and　landed　flat　on　his　back。　At　last　he　noticed　that　something　was　going　on。　His　finger　shot　upwards。
　　〃What　the　hell's　that？〃　he　shrieked。
　　Whatever　it　was　raced　across　the　sky　in　monstrous　yellowness；　tore　the　sky　apart　with　mind…buggering　noise　and　leapt　off　into　the　distance　leaving　the　gaping　air　to　shut　behind　it　with　a　bang　that　drove　your　ears　six　feet　into　your　skull。
　　Another　one　followed　and　did　the　same　thing　only　louder。
　　It's　difficult　to　say　exactly　what　the　people　on　the　surface　of　the　planet　were　doing　now；　because　they　didn't　really　know　what　they　were　doing　themselves。　None　of　it　made　a　lot　of　sense　…　running　into　houses；　running　out　of　houses；　howling　noiselessly　at　the　noise。　All　around　the　world　city　streets　exploded　with　people；　cars　slewed　into　each　other　as　the　noise　fell　on　them　and　then　rolled　off　like　a　tidal　wave　over　hills　and　valleys；　deserts　and　oceans；　seeming　to　flatten　everything　it　hit。
　　Only　one　man　stood　and　watched　the　sky；　stood　with　terrible　sadness　in　his　eyes　and　rubber　bungs　in　his　ears。　He　knew　exactly　what　was　happening　and　had　known　ever　since　his　Sub…Etha　Sens…O…Matic　had　started　winking　in　the　dead　of　night　beside　his　pillar　and　woken　him　with　a　start。　It　was　what　he　had　waited　for　all　these　years；　but　when　he　had　deciphered　the　signal　pattern　sitting　alone　in　his　small　dark　room　a　coldness　had　gripped　him　and　squeezed　his　heart。　Of　all　the　races　in　all　of　the　Galaxy　who　could　have　e　and　said　a　big　hello　to　planet　Earth；　he　thought；　didn't　it　just　have　to　be　the　Vogons。
　　Still　he　knew　what　he　had　to　do。　As　the　Vogon　craft　screamed　through　the　air　high　above　him　he　opened　his　satchel。　He　threw　away　a　copy　of　Joseph　and　the　Amazing　Technicolor　Dreamcoat；　he　threw　away　a　copy　of　Godspell：　He　wouldn't　need　them　where　he　was　going。　Everything　was　ready；　everything　was　prepared。
　　He　knew　where　his　towel　was。
　　A　sudden　silence　hit　the　Earth。　If　anything　it　was　worse　than　the　noise。　For　a　while　nothing　happened。
　　The　great　ships　hung　motionless　in　the　air；　over　every　nation　on　Earth。　Motionless　they　hung；　huge；　heavy；　steady　in　the　sky；　a　blasphemy　against　nature。　Many　people　went　straight　into　shock　as　their　minds　tried　to　enpass　what　they　were　looking　at。　The　ships　hung　in　the　sky　in　much　the　same　way　that　bricks　don't。
　　And　still　nothing　happened。
　　Then　there　was　a　slight　whisper；　a　sudden　spacious　whisper　of　open　ambient　sound。　Every　hi　fi　set　in　the　world；　every　radio；　every　television；　every　cassette　recorder；　every　woofer；　every　tweeter；　every　mid…range　driver　in　the　world　quietly　turned　itself　on。
　　Every　tin　can；　every　dust　bin；　every　window；　every　car；　every　wine　glass；　every　sheet　of　rusty　metal　became　activated　as　an　acoustically　perfect　sounding　board。
　　Before　the　Earth　passed　away　it　was　going　to　be　treated　to　the　very　ultimate　in　sound　reproduction；　the　greatest　public　address　system　ever　built。　But　there　was　no　concert；　no　music；　no　fanfare；　just　a　simple　message。
　　〃People　of　Earth；　your　attention　please；〃　a　voice　said；　and　it　was　wonderful。　Wonderful　perfect　quadrophonic　sound　with　distortion　levels　so　low　as　to　make　a　brave　man　weep。
　　〃This　is　Prostetnic　Vogon　Jeltz　of　the　Galactic　Hyperspace　Planning　Council；〃　the　voice　continued。　〃As　you　will　no　doubt　be　aware；　the　plans　for　development　of　the　outlying　regions　of　the　Galaxy　require　the　building　of　a　hyperspatial　express　route　through　your　star　system；　and　regrettably　your　planet　is　one　of　those　scheduled　for　demolition。　The　process　will　take　slightly　less　that　two　of　your　Earth　minutes。　Thank　you。〃
　　The　PA　died　away。
　　Unprehending　terror　settled　on　the　watching　people　of　Earth。　The　terror　moved　slowly　through　the　gathered　crowds　as　if　they　were　iron　fillings　on　a　sheet　of　board　and　a　magnet　was　moving　beneath　them。　Panic　sprouted　again；　desperate　fleeing　panic；　but　there　was　nowhere　to　flee　to。
　　Observing　this；　the　Vogons　turned　on　their　PA　again。　It　said：
　　〃There's　no　point　in　acting　all　surprised　about　it。　All　the　planning　charts　and　demolition　orders　have　been　on　display　in　your　local　planning　department　on　Alpha　Centauri　for　fifty　of　your　Earth　years；　so　you've　had　plenty　of　time　to　lodge　any　formal　plaint　and　it's　far　too　late　to　start　making　a　fuss　about　it　now。〃
　　The　PA　fell　silent　again　and　its　echo　drifted　off　across　the　land。　The　huge　ships　turned　slowly　in　the　sky　with　easy　power。　On　the　underside　of　each　a　hatchway　opened；　an　empty　black　space。
　　By　this　time　somebody　somewhere　must　have　manned　a　radio　transmitter；　located　a　wavelength　and　broadcasted　a　message　back　to　the　Vogon　ships；　to　plead　on　behalf　of　the　planet。　Nobody　ever　heard　what　they　said；　they　only　heard　the　reply。　The　PA　slammed　back　into　life　again。　The　voice　was　annoyed。　It　said：
　　〃What　do　you　mean　you've　never　been　to　Alpha　Centauri？　For　heaven's　sake　mankind；　it's　only　four　light　years　away　you　know。　I'm　sorry；　but　if　you　can't　be　bothered　to　take　an　interest　in　local　affairs　that's　your　own　lookout。
　　〃Energize　the　demolition　beams。〃
　　Light　poured　out　into　the　hatchways。
　　〃I　don't　know；〃　said　the　voice　on　the　PA；　〃apathetic　bloody　planet；　I've　no　sympathy　at　all。〃　It　cut　off。
　　There　was　a　terrible　ghastly　silence。
　　There　was　a　terrible　ghastly　noise。
　　There　was　a　terrible　ghastly　silence。
　　The　Vogon　Constructor　fleet　coasted　away　into　the　inky　starry　void。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　4
　　
　　Far　away　on　the　opposite　spiral　arm　of　the　Galaxy；　five　hundred　thousand　light　years　from　the　star　Sol；　Zaphod　Beeblebrox；　President　of　the　Imperial　Galactic　Government；　sped　across　the　seas　of　Damogran；　his　ion　drive　delta　boat　winking　and　flashing　in　the　Damogran　sun。
　　Damogran　the　hot；　Damogran　the　remote；　Damogran　the　almost　totally　unheard　of。
　　Damogran；　secret　home　of　the　Heart　of　Gold。
　　The　boat　sped　on　across　the　water。　It　would　be　some　time　before　it　reached　its　destination　because　Damogran　is　such　an　inconveniently　arranged　planet。　It　consists　of　nothing　but　middling　to　large　desert　islands　separated　by　very　pretty　but　annoyingly　wide　stretches　of　ocean。
　　The　boat　sped　on。
　　Because　of　this　topological　awkwardness　Damogran　has　always　remained　a　deserted　planet。　This　is　why　the　Imperial　Galactic　Government　chose　Damogran　for　the　Heart　of　Gold　project；　because　it　was　so　deserted　and　the　Heart　of　Gold　was　so　secret。
　　The　boat　zipped　and　skipped　across　the　sea；　the　sea　that　lay　between　the　main　islands　of　the　only　archipelago　of　any　useful　size　on　the　whole　planet。　Zaphod　Beeblebrox　was　on　his　way　from　the　tiny　spaceport　on　Easter　Island　（the　name　was　an　entirely　meaningless　coincidence　…　in　Galacticspeke；　easter　means　small　flat　and　light　brown）　to　the　Heart　of　Gold　island；　which　by　another　meaningless　coincidence　was　called　France。
　　One　of　the　side　effects　of　work　on　the　Heart　of　Gold　was　a　whole　string　of　pretty　meaningless　coincidences。
　　But　it　was　not　in　any　way　a　coincidence　that　today；　the　day　of　culmination　of　the　project；　the　great　day　of　unveiling；　the　day　that　the　Heart　of　Gold　was　finally　to　be　introduced　to　a　marvelling　Galaxy；　was　also　a　great　day　of　culmination　for　Zaphod　Beeblebrox。　It　was　for　the　sake　of　this　day　that　he　had　first　decided　to　run　for　the　Presidency；　a　decision　which　had　sent　waves　of　astonishment　throughout　the　Imperial　Galaxy　…　Zaphod　Beeblebrox？　President？　Not　the　Zaphod　Beeblebrox？　Not　the　President？　Many　had　seen　it　as　a　clinching　proof　that　the　whole　of　known　creation　had　finally　gone　bananas。
　　Zaphod　grinned　and　gave　the　boat　an　extra　kick　of　speed。
　　Zaphod　Beeblebrox；　adventurer；　ex…hippy；　good　timer；　（crook？　quite　possibly）；　manic　self…publicist；　terribly　bad　at　personal　relationships；　often　thought　to　be　pletely　out　to　lunch。
　　President？
　　No　one　had　gone　bananas；　not　in　that　way　at　least。
　　Only　six　people　in　the　entire　Galaxy　understood　the　principle　on　which　the　Galaxy　was　governed；　and　they　knew　that　once　Zaphod　Beeblebrox　had　announced　his　intention　to　run　as　President　it　was　more　or　less　a　fait　acpli：　he　was　the　ideal　Presidency　fodder1。
　　What　they　pletely　failed　to　understand　was　why　Zaphod　was　doing　it。
　　He　banked　sharply；　shooting　a　wild　wall　of　water　at　the　sun。
　　Today　was　the　day；　today　was　the　day　when　they　would　realize　what　Zaphod　had　been　up　to。　Today　was　what　Zaphod　Beeblebrox's　Presidency　was　all　about。　Today　was　also　his　two　hundredth　birthday；　but　that　was　just　another　meaningless　coincidence。
　　As　he　skipped　his　boat　across　the　seas　of　Damogran　he　smiled　quietly　to　himself　about　what　a　wonderful　exciting　day　it　was　going　to　be。　He　relaxed　and　spread　his　two　arms　lazily　across　the　seat　back。　He　steered　with　an　extra　arm　he'd　recently　fitted　just　beneath　his　right　one　to　help　improve　his　ski…boxing。
　　〃Hey；〃　he　cooed　to　himself；　〃you're　a　real　cool　boy　you。〃　But　his　nerves　sang　a　song　shriller　than　a　dog　whistle。
　　The　island　of　France　was　about　twenty　miles　long；　five　miles　across　the　middle；　sandy　and　crescent　shaped。　In　fact　it　seemed　to　exist　not　so　much　as　an　island　in　its　own　right　as　simply　a　means　of　defining　the　sweep　and　curve　of　a　huge　bay。　This　impression　was　heightened　by　the　fact　that　the　inner　coastline　of　the　crescent　consisted　almost　entirely　of　steep　cliffs。　From　the　top　of　the　cliff　the　land　sloped　slowly　down　five　miles　to　the　opposite　shore。
　　On　top　of　the　cliffs　stood　a　reception　mittee。
　　It　consisted　in　large　part　of　the　engineers　and　researchers　who　had　built　the　Heart　of　Gold　…　mostly　humanoid；　but　here　and　there　were　a　few　reptiloid　atomineers；　two　or　three　green　slyph…like　maximegalacticans；　an　octopoid　physucturalist　or　two　and　a　Hooloovoo　（a　Hooloovoo　is　a　super…intelligent　shade　of　the　color　blue）。　All　ex