da.solongandthanksforallthefish-第3部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


re　all　very　deliberately　looking　in　any　direction　but　his　now；　carefully　picking　up　the　threads　of　their　former　conversations　about　murders；　drug　rings　and　music　publishing　deals。　They　knew　what　would　happen　now　and　didn't　want　to　watch　in　case　it　put　them　off　their　drinks。
　　…　You　gonna　die；　boy；　…　the　barman　murmured　quietly　at　Ford　Prefect；　and　the　evidence　was　on　his　side。　The　bar　used　to　have　one　of　those　signs　hanging　up　which　said　〃Please　don't　ask　for　credit　as　a　punch　in　the　mouth　often　offends；〃　but　in　the　interest　of　strict　accuracy　this　was　altered　to　〃Please　don't　ask　for　credit　because　having　your　throat　torn　out　by　a　savage　bird　while　a　disembodied　hand　smashes　your　head　against　the　bar　often　offends。〃　However；　this　made　an　unreadable　mess　of　the　notice；　and　anyway　didn't　have　the　same　ring　to　it；　so　it　was　taken　down　again。　It　was　felt　that　the　story　would　get　about　of　its　own　accord；　and　it　had。
　　…　Lemme　look　at　the　bill　again；　…　said　Ford。　He　picked　it　up　and　studied　it　thoughtfully　under　the　malevolent　gaze　of　the　barman；　and　the　equally　malevolent　gaze　of　the　bird；　which　was　currently　gouging　great　furrows　in　the　bar　top　with　its　talons。
　　It　was　a　rather　lengthy　piece　of　paper。
　　At　the　bottom　of　it　was　a　number　which　looked　like　one　of　those　serial　numbers　you　find　on　the　underside　of　stereo　sets　which　always　takes　so　long　to　copy　on　to　the　registration　form。　He　had；　after　all；　been　in　the　bar　all　day；　he　had　been　drinking　a　lot　of　stuff　with　bubbles　in　it；　and　he　had　bought　an　awful　lot　of　rounds　for　all　the　pimps；　thugs　and　record　executives　who　suddenly　couldn't　remember　who　he　was。
　　He　cleared　his　throat　rather　quietly　and　patted　his　pockets。　There　was；　as　he　knew；　nothing　in　them。　He　rested　his　left　hand　lightly　but　firmly　on　the　half…opened　flap　of　his　satchel。　The　disembodied　hand　renewed　its　pressure　on　his　right　shoulder。
　　…　You　see；　…　said　the　barman；　and　his　face　seemed　to　wobble　evilly　in　front　of　Ford's；　…　I　have　a　reputation　to　think　of。　You　see　that；　don't　you？
　　This　is　it；　thought　Ford。　There　was　nothing　else　for　it。　He　had　obeyed　the　rules；　he　had　made　a　bona　fide　attempt　to　pay　his　bill；　it　had　been　rejected。　He　was　now　in　danger　of　his　life。
　　…　Well；　…　he　said　quietly；　…　if　it's　your　reputation。。。
　　With　a　sudden　flash　of　speed　he　opened　his　satchel　and　slapped　down　on　the　bar　top　his　copy　of　The　Hitch　Hiker's　Guide　to　the　Galaxy　and　the　official　card　which　said　that　he　was　a　field　researcher　for　the　Guide　and　absolutely　not　allowed　to　do　what　he　was　now　doing。
　　…　Want　a　write…up？
　　The　barman's　face　stopped　in　mid…wobble。　The　bird's　talons　stopped　in　mid…furrow。　The　hand　slowly　released　its　grip。
　　…　That；　…　said　the　barman　in　a　barely　audible　whisper；　from　between　dry　lips；　…　will　do　nicely；　sir。
　　
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　5
　　
　　The　Hitch　Hiker's　Guide　to　the　Galaxy　is　a　powerful　organ。　Indeed；　its　influence　is　so　prodigious　that　strict　rules　have　had　to　be　drawn　up　by　its　editorial　staff　to　prevent　its　misuse。　So　none　of　its　field　researchers　are　allowed　to　accept　any　kind　of　services；　discounts　or　preferential　treatment　of　any　kind　in　return　for　editorial　favours　unless：
　　a）　they　have　made　a　bona　fide　attempt　to　pay　for　a　service　in　the　normal　way；
　　b）　their　lives　would　be　otherwise　in　danger；
　　c）　they　really　want　to。
　　Since　invoking　the　third　rule　always　involved　giving　the　editor　a　cut；　Ford　always　preferred　to　much　about　with　the　first　two。
　　He　stepped　out　along　the　street；　walking　briskly。
　　The　air　was　stifling；　but　he　liked　it　because　it　was　stifling　city　air；　full　of　excitingly　unpleasant　smells；　dangerous　music　and　the　sound　of　warring　police　tribes。
　　He　carried　his　satchel　with　an　easy　swaying　motion　so　that　he　could　get　a　good　swing　at　anybody　who　tried　to　take　it　from　him　without　asking。　It　contained　everything　he　owned；　which　at　the　moment　wasn't　much。
　　A　limousine　careered　down　the　street；　dodging　between　the　piles　of　burning　garbage；　and　frightening　an　old　pack　animal　which　lurched；　screeching；　out　of　its　way；　stumbled　against　the　window　of　a　herbal　remedies　shop；　set　off　a　wailing　alarm；　blundered　off　down　the　street；　and　then　pretended　to　fall　down　the　steps　of　a　small　pasta　restaurant　where　it　knew　it　would　get　photographed　and　fed。
　　Ford　was　walking　north。　He　thought　he　was　probably　on　his　way　to　the　spaceport；　but　he　had　thought　that　before。　He　knew　he　was　going　through　that　part　of　the　city　where　people's　plans　often　changed　quite　abruptly。
　　…　Do　you　want　to　have　a　good　time？　…　said　a　voice　from　a　doorway。
　　…　As　far　as　I　can　tell；　…　said　Ford；　…　I'm　having　one。　Thanks。
　　…　Are　you　rich？　…　said　another。
　　This　made　Ford　laugh。
　　He　turned　and　opened　his　arms　in　a　wide　gesture。
　　…　Do　I　look　rich？　…　he　said。
　　…　Don't　know；　…　said　the　girl。　…　Maybe；　maybe　not。　Maybe　you'll　get　rich。　I　have　a　very　special　service　for　rich　people。。。
　　…　Oh　yes？　…　said　Ford；　intrigued　but　careful。　…　And　what's　that？
　　…　I　tell　them　it's　OK　to　be　rich。
　　Gunfire　erupted　from　a　window　high　above　them；　but　it　was　only　a　bass　player　getting　shot　for　playing　the　wrong　riff　three　times　in　a　row；　and　bass　players　are　two　a　penny　in　Han　Dold　City。
　　Ford　stopped　and　peered　into　the　dark　doorway。
　　…　You　what？　…　he　said。
　　The　girl　laughed　and　stepped　forward　a　little　out　of　the　shadow。　She　was　tall；　and　had　that　kind　of　self…possessed　shyness　which　is　a　great　trick　if　you　can　do　it。
　　…　It's　my　big　number；　…　she　said。　…　I　have　a　Master's　degree　in　Social　Economics　and　can　be　very　convincing。　People　love　it。　Especially　in　this　city。
　　…　Goosnargh；　…　said　Ford　Prefect；　which　was　a　special　Betelgeusian　word　he　used　when　he　knew　he　should　say　something　but　didn't　know　what　it　should　be。
　　He　sat　on　a　step；　took　from　his　satchel　a　bottle　of　that　Ol'　Janx　Spirit　and　a　towel。　He　opened　the　bottle　and　wiped　the　top　of　it　with　the　towel；　which　had　the　opposite　effect　to　the　one　intended；　in　that　the　Ol'　Janx　Spirit　instantly　killed　off　millions　of　the　germs　which　had　been　slowly　building　up　quite　a　plex　and　enlightened　civilization　on　the　smellier　patches　of　the　towel。
　　…　Want　some？　…　he　said；　after　he'd　had　a　swig　himself。
　　She　shrugged　and　took　the　proffered　bottle。
　　They　sat　for　a　while；　peacefully　listening　to　the　clamour　of　burglar　alarms　in　the　next　block。
　　…　As　it　happens；　I'm　owed　a　lot　of　money；　…　said　Ford；　…　so　if　I　ever　get　hold　of　it；　can　I　e　and　see　you　then　maybe？
　　…　Sure；　I'll　be　here；　…　said　the　girl。　…　So　how　much　is　a　lot？
　　…　Fifteen　years'　back　pay。
　　…　For？
　　…　Writing　two　words。
　　…　Zarquon；　…　said　the　girl。　…　Which　one　took　the　time？
　　…　The　first　one。　Once　I'd　got　that　the　second　one　just　came　one　afternoon　after　lunch。
　　A　huge　electronic　drum　kit　hurtled　through　the　window　high　above　them　and　smashed　itself　to　bits　in　the　street　in　front　of　them。
　　It　soon　became　apparent　that　some　of　the　burglar　alarms　on　the　next　block　had　been　deliberately　set　off　by　one　police　tribe　in　order　to　lay　an　ambush　for　the　other。　Cars　with　screaming　sirens　converged　on　the　area；　only　to　find　themselves　being　picked　off　by　copters　which　came　thudding　through　the　air　between　the　city's　mountainous　tower　blocks。
　　…　In　fact；　…　said　Ford；　having　to　shout　now　above　the　din；　…　it　wasn't　quite　like　that。　I　wrote　an　awful　lot；　but　they　just　cut　it　down。
　　He　took　his　copy　of　the　Guide　back　out　of　his　satchel。
　　…　Then　the　planet　got　demolished；　…　he　shouted。　…　Really　worthwhile　job；　eh？　They've　still　got　to　pay　me；　though。
　　…　You　work　for　that　thing？　…　the　girl　yelled　back。
　　…　Yeah。
　　…　Good　number。
　　…　You　want　to　see　the　stuff　I　wrote？　…　he　shouted。　…　Before　it　gets　erased？　The　new　revisions　are　due　to　be　released　tonight　over　the　net。　Someone　must　have　found　out　that　the　planet　I　spent　fifteen　years　on　has　been　demolished　by　now。　They　missed　it　on　the　last　few　revisions；　but　it　can't　escape　their　notice　for　ever。
　　…　It's　getting　impossible　to　talk　isn't　it？
　　…　What？
　　She　shrugged　and　pointed　upwards。
　　There　was　a　copter　above　them　now　which　seemed　to　be　involved　in　a　side　skirmish　with　the　band　upstairs。　Smoke　was　billowing　from　the　building。　The　sound　engineer　was　hanging　out　of　the　window　by　his　fingertips；　and　a　maddened　guitarist　was　beating　on　his　fingers　with　a　burning　guitar。　The　helicopter　was　firing　at　all　of　them。
　　…　Can　we　move？
　　They　wandered　down　the　street；　away　from　the　noise。　They　ran　into　a　street　theatre　group　which　tried　to　do　a　short　play　for　them　about　the　problems　of　the　inner　city；　but　then　gave　up　and　disappeared　into　the　small　restaurant　most　recently　patronized　by　the　pack　animal。
　　All　the　time；　Ford　was　poking　at　the　interface　panel　of　the　Guide。　They　ducked　into　an　alleyway。　Ford　squatted　on　a　garbage　can　while　information　began　to　flood　over　the　screen　of　the　Guide。
　　He　located　his　entry。
　　…　Earth：　Mostly　harmless。
　　Almost　immediately　the　screen　became　a　mass　of　system　messages。
　　…　Here　it　es；　…　he　said。
　　…　Please　wait；　…　said　the　messages。　…　Entries　are　being　updated　over　the　Sub…Etha…Net。　This　entry　is　being　revised。　The　system　will　be　down　for　ten　seconds。
　　At　the　end　of　the　alley　a　steel　grey　limousine　crawled　past。
　　…　Hey　look；　…　said　the　girl；　…　if　you　get　paid；　look　me　up。　I'm　a　working　girl；　and　there　are　people　over　there　who　need　me。　I　gotta　go。
　　She　brushed　aside　Ford's　half…articulated　protests；　and　left　him　sitting　dejectedly　on　his　garbage　can　preparing　to　watch　a　large　swathe　of　his　working　life　being　swept　away　electronically　into　the　ether。
　　Out　in　the　street　things　had　calmed　down　a　little。　The　police　battle　had　moved　off　to　other　sectors　of　the　city；　the　few　surviving　members　of　the　rock　band　had　agreed　to　recognize　their　musical　differences　and　pursue　solo　careers；　the　street　theatre　group　were　re…emerging　from　the　pasta　restaurant　with　the　pack　animal；　telling　it　they　would　take　it　to　a　bar　they　knew　where　it　would　be　treated　with　a　little　respect；　and　a　little　way　further　on　the　steel　grey　limousine　was　parked　silently　by　the　kerbside。
　　The　girl　hurried　towards　it。
　　Behind　her；　in　the　darkness　of