Chapter 23 All right, shouted Ford at Arthur, so I’m a coward, the point is I’m still alive. They were back aboard the Starship Bistromath, so was Slartibartfast, so was Trillian. Harmony and concord were not. Well, so am I alive, aren’t I? retaliated Arthur, haggard with adventure and anger. His eyebrows were leaping up and down as if they wanted to punch each other. You damn nearly weren’t, exploded Ford. Arthur turned sharply to Slartibartfast, who was sitting in his pilot couch on the flight deck gazing thoughtfully into the bottom of a bottle which was telling him something he clearly couldn’t fathom. He appealed to him. Do you think he understands the first word I’ve been saying? he said, quivering with emotion. I don’t know, replied Slartibartfast, a little abstractedly. I’m not sure, he added, glancing up very briefly, that I do. He stared at his instruments with renewed vigor and bafflement. You’ll have to explain it to us again, he said. Well… But later. Terrible things are afoot. He tapped the pseudo-glass of the bottle bottom. We fared rather pathetically at the party, I’m afraid, he said, and our only hope now is to try to prevent the robots from using the Key in the Lock. How in heaven we do that I don’t know, he muttered. Just have to go there, I suppose. Can’t say I like the idea at all. Probably end up dead. Where is Trillian anyway? said Arthur with a sudden affectation of unconcern. What he had been angry about was that Ford had berated him for wasting time over all the business with the Thunder God when they could have been making a rather more rapid escape. Arthur’s own opinion, and he had offered it for whatever anybody might have felt it was worth, was that he had been extraordinarily brave and resourceful. The prevailing view seemed to be that his opinion was not worth a pair of fetid dingo’s kidneys. What really hurt, though, was that Trillian didn’t seem to react much one way or the other and had wandered off somewhere. And where are my potato crisps? said Ford. They are both, said Slartibartfast, without looking up, in the Room of Informational Illusions. I think that your young lady friend is trying to understand some problems of Galactic history. I think the potato crisps are probably helping her. 23 “好吧！”福特对阿瑟叫道，“对，我是个懦夫，可我至少还活着。”众人已经登上意馆数学飞船，司拉提巴特法斯，崔莉安，都在这儿。 “对啊，可我也活着，不是吗？”阿瑟立即尖锐地回击。他的眉毛上下跳着，像在打架似的。 “你小子差点就没命了！”福特吼到。 阿瑟掉头转向司拉提巴特法斯，司拉提巴特法斯正坐在驾驶座上，盯着那瓶酒的底部，若有所思——这东西也许暗藏玄机。阿瑟问他： “你说，他有没有听懂我刚才的话？”他很激动地问道。 “不知道，” 司拉提巴特法斯特心不在焉地回答，“我不确定自己听清没。”他看了阿瑟一眼，又将视线投向那个瓶子，比刚才更为专注、更为严肃，“你可以解释解释。”他说。 “就是……” “不过等会儿。可怕的事就要来临了。” 他轻轻敲着那假玻璃做的酒瓶子。 “恐怕，咱们的派对之行相当不成功。”他说，“现在，咱们的唯一希望，就是阻止机器人使用钥匙了。怎么阻止？我也不知道。”他喃喃地说，“总之得去。我想。当然，我也不希望这样。也许会死吧。” “崔莉安呢？”阿瑟突然注意到。他很生福特的气，因为福特抱怨说，他不该老跟雷神纠缠，这样大家还能逃得更快。阿瑟却认为——他也希望大家都认同——自己的行为机智又勇敢。 可惜，大家普遍认为，他的想法一文不值。更伤人的是，崔莉安什么表示也没有，而且不知又跑哪儿去了 “我的薯片又在哪儿？“福特问。 “他们俩，” 司拉提巴特法斯头也不抬地答道，“都在信息幻影室里。我猜那位女士正在研究一些银河史的问题。我猜，那包薯片正在帮忙吧。”
