And Another Thing... Part 9

Fenchurch's face disappeared and Arthur stepped tentatively into the stall.

'No peeking.'

'Four fifty-nine, Arthur Dent. Four fifty-eight...'

'Okay. I'm in, I'm in.' Arthur glanced around. 'Won't I need a towel?'

'Whatever for?' asked the computer.

Arthur barely had time to wonder what kind of shower he was in before dozens of glowing lasers shot from crystal nodes set into the walls, bathing him in crimson light.

Arthur's first thought was that he had been lured into a death cubicle, but when he opened his mouth to scream, a laser shot inside and sc.r.a.ped his tongue. He lifted an arm to cover his mouth and another laser trimmed and buffed his fingernails. The laser scrubbing was thorough and not altogether unpleasant once Arthur relaxed and accepted what was happening. Dirt and skin cells were sloughed off and collected by a recycling vacuum in the tray. He selected a hairstyle from a v-catalogue and his scalp tickled as the lasers coiffed his locks.

'Smile, please, Arthur Dent,' ordered the computer.

Arthur complied and his teeth were whitened by a jittering beam.

I feel good, Arthur realized. Better than I have in years Better than I have in years.

The cloud of skin, hair and grime settled and Arthur stepped from the cubicle to find a suit lying on the bed. As soon as he saw the suit, Arthur cringed. It took him a minute to figure out why.

'b.u.g.g.e.r me,' he breathed. 'Eaton House.'

It was his school uniform from preparatory school, complete with striped tie and green cap.

Fenchurch appeared on the wall. 'Do you feel good, Arthur Dent?'

Arthur covered himself with a handy pillow. 'Eh... Yes. Yes, I do. Can't I have something else to wear?'

'You dreamed of this, Arthur Dent. So I made it in your size. There are no more clothing credits for this cycle. Is there something wrong with these garments?'

Arthur ran his finger along the green jacket's crimson lapel.

'No. Nothing wrong wrong, I suppose. It's just that this is a school uniform.'

'It is clean.'

'Yes, I know.'

'Free of viruses and dust mites.'

'Good point, but hardly age appropriate.'

'And it has nostalgic value. I have helped you to recapture your youth, Arthur Dent. Don't I get a thank you?'

'I suppose so.'

'You suppose? Holy s.h.i.+t!'

'Okay. All right. Thank you.'

Fenchurch was miffed. 'After all I have done for you. The twenty-twenty vision and the kidney stones.'

'What?' said Arthur, alarmed.

'Didn't you notice your improved vision? I fixed your retina. Also, my scanners detected a cl.u.s.ter of kidney stones, so I pulverized them.'

Arthur closed his good eye and realized that his other eye was also a good one.

'That's amazing. Shouldn't you have asked?'

'Should I? Wowbagger allows me independent choice in basic health matters. If you step back into the cubicle, I can return your eye to its original state.'

Arthur blinked and appreciated almost instantly that he enjoyed being able to see properly very much indeed.

'No. No, Fenchurch. I like this twenty-twenty thing. Thank you very much.'

The computer smiled. 'You are welcome, Arthur.'

'And the kidney stones. An entire cl.u.s.ter. That would have been painful, I imagine. So, thanks for that too.'

'And the clothes?'

'Perfect,' said Arthur graciously. 'If you would just make yourself scarce, I can put them on.'

'Feedback star?'

'Go on then.'

'Thank you, Arthur.'

Fenchurch fizzled out and Arthur put on his school uniform.

Could be worse, he thought. Could be short trousers Could be short trousers.

'Thank you, Fenchurch,' he whispered.

Arthur b.u.mped into Trillian in the corridor.

'Blimey,' he said, taken aback. 'You look fantastic, Trillian.'

'Really, Arthur?'

Arthur Dent had that particular English personality defect where he dissected any compliment he gave shortly after giving it, effectively hobbling himself.

'I mean... you always look fantastic. It's not that you didn't look fantastic before. You look extra-fantastic now. Mega-fantastic, I suppose I should say, seeing as we're in s.p.a.ce and all that.'

Trillian wore a smart electric-blue trouser suit and wedge boots to her thighs.

'The computer picked this outfit out of my head. I wore it to interview the President of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation. Or rather, I dreamed I wore it, in the construct.'

'Well, whatever. It suits you.'

'Plus the computer treated me to a face peel,' Trillian confided, leaning in close. 'And balanced out my vitamin and mineral levels. I feel like I could run a marathon.'

'Me too.'

Trillian tugged the sleeve of Arthur's jacket. 'No need to ask where you went to school, then.'

'Lucky I wasn't dreaming of the nightclub in Cottington, or I could be wearing shoulder pads right now.'

'Nice cap, though.'

Arthur hurriedly s.n.a.t.c.hed the hat off his head, stuffing it in a pocket. 'Didn't realize I had that on. Habit, I suppose. Have you seen Ford?'

'I have, actually. He trotted past me on his way to the bridge.'

'Anything different about him?'

Trillian frowned. 'His hair did seem unusually s.h.i.+ny. Oh, and it was blue.'

Arthur was not surprised. 'It was only a matter of time. The computer in your room, what did it look like?'

'My cat, Copernicus. Imagine that. Very clever trick. How about you?'

Arthur stared through a porthole into the deep and endless blackness of s.p.a.ce.

'Just a computer. No face. It didn't look like anyone.'

Wowbagger's sleek, golden, interstellar longs.h.i.+p sped silently towards Alpha Centauri, dark matter engines revolving behind it, solar sail fluttering above and the Heart of Gold Heart of Gold slung underneath like a baby flaybooz in its parent's pouch. slung underneath like a baby flaybooz in its parent's pouch.

Guide Note: Contrary to an almost universal norm, it is the male flaybooz who nurtures the young. A full-grown flaybooz can fit up to fifty young in his pouch, but generally there is only room for a couple, as males like to carry around a small toolkit in case of emergencies, maybe a few beers and a copy of Furb.a.l.l.s Quarterly. Furb.a.l.l.s Quarterly.

Ford Prefect poked around the bridge and was hugely impressed. 'This is something, Wowbagger. Dark matter. Seventy per cent of the Universe is made of this stuff and we can't even see it. How do you make a s.h.i.+p from dark matter?'

Wowbagger shrugged. 'The Tanngrisnir Tanngrisnir? I bought it from a guy a while back.'

'That's it? You bought it from a guy?'

'He swears he stole it from Thor. The Thunder G.o.d? It's his longs.h.i.+p, hence the retro design.'

'I know who Thor Thor is. I met him at a party once.' is. I met him at a party once.'

'Tanngrisnir was one of his goats, apparently. I was going to replace the horned ram figurehead, but I've heard that Thor is a bit dim and I was worried that he wouldn't recognize the s.h.i.+p with a new symbol on the prow. I had hoped that maybe he would come after me, dash my brains out with the big hammer.'

'Wishful thinking,' guessed Ford.

'Looks like it. No sign of him so far.' Wowbagger leaped from his chair. 'Look, can you not touch that?'

Random was twiddling a glowing b.u.t.ton on a console.

'Excuse me,' she said, but meant something entirely different.

'It's just that I've been on my own for a long time now. I have things just the way I like them. One push on the wrong k.n.o.b and we could all end up on the outside looking in. Which would be a slight annoyance for me, but a lot more serious for you people.'

'So what is that b.u.t.ton you are so sensitive about?'

'That is my coffee maker.'

'What?'

'It took me decades to get the foam just right.'

'Oh, for zark's sake.'

'Everything is zark with you. You might show a little more grat.i.tude. I just saved your lives.'

'I didn't ask you to,' said Random, eyes blazing beneath her long fringe.

Wowbagger was beginning to regret inviting these people aboard, but the hypers.p.a.ce jump would have killed them on their own s.h.i.+p. No s.h.i.+elds, no buffers, no gyro. They would have been shaken like beads in a rattle; a rattle travelling at incomprehensible speeds, with no fitted safety belts.

'I am delighted to say, young lady, that I will not be the object of your detestation for much longer.'

'But I like detesting you,' said Random sweetly.

Guide Note: Given Random Dent's instant and irrational hatred of Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged, it was inevitable that he would eventually become her stepfather. The well-known actor Angus deBeouf, who played a psychiatrist on the hit show Psych-O-Rama Psych-O-Rama for seven series, postulated that single mothers feel an attraction to males that is proportional to the revulsion their teenagers feel towards that same person. Though not actually a qualified psychiatrist, Mr deBeouf does have four brains and silky hair, so his opinion carries considerable weight, especially among that section of the galactic population that wears slippers in the afternoon. for seven series, postulated that single mothers feel an attraction to males that is proportional to the revulsion their teenagers feel towards that same person. Though not actually a qualified psychiatrist, Mr deBeouf does have four brains and silky hair, so his opinion carries considerable weight, especially among that section of the galactic population that wears slippers in the afternoon.

Related Reading: The Happy Teen: A Fairy Tale by Jimmy Habrey K by Jimmy Habrey K.

Trust Me, I Play A Doctor by Angus deBeouf by Angus deBeouf Wowbagger plucked a face mask from its niche in the wall and strapped it over his nose.

'I had forgotten what people were like,' he said, breathing deeply. 'Use this experience. Take from it the strength to go on.'

'Do you mind sucking your magic gas after after dropping us off?' dropping us off?'

Wowbagger replaced the mask. 'It is not magic gas, oddly dressed child. I bottle the atmosphere from my home world. Full of carbon dioxide and toxic chemicals, but it calms me.' He smiled broadly to demonstrate his calm. 'Now please do not touch anything else on my bridge or I will vaporize you on the spot, you odious adolescent. When I was young, teenagers didn't talk back to their elders or they got a dunking in a bucket of toadstool mandarins.'

'When was this? Just after the Big Bang?'

'One more. Just say one more thing. I have some toadstool mandarins around here somewhere.'

'That bottled atmosphere isn't working, is it?'

'No,' admitted Wowbagger. 'Actually, it's giving me a bit of a headache. Or maybe you're the cause of my headache.'

Random fell back on the old reliable.