经典科幻文学:《宇宙尽头的餐馆》第16章4

“Zowee,” said Zaphod, “here we are at the End of the Universe and you haven’t even lived yet. Did you miss out.”
He led her off to where the waiter had been waiting all this time at the table. Arthur followed them feeling very lost and alone.
Ford waded off through the throng to renew an old acquaintance.
“Hey, er, Hotblack,” he called out, “how you doing? Great to see you big boy, how’s the noise? You’re looking great, really very, very fat and unwell. Amazing.” He slapped the man on the back and was mildly surprised that it seemed to elicit no response. The Pan Galactic Gargle Blasters swirling round inside him told him to plunge on regardless.
“Remember the old days?” he said, “We used to hang out, right? The Bistro Illegal, remember? Slim’s Throat Emporium? The Evildrome Boozarama, great days eh?”
Hotblack Desiato offered no opinion as to whether they were great days or not. Ford was not perturbed.
“And when we were hungry we’d pose as public health inspectors, you remember that? And go around confiscating meals and drinks right? Till we got food poisoning. Oh, and then there were the long nights of talking and drinking in those smelly rooms above the Cafe Lou in Gretchen Town, New Betel, and you were always in the next room trying to write songs on your ajuitar and we all hated them. And you said you didn’t care, and we said we did because we hated them so much.” Ford’s eyes were beginning to mist over.
“And you said you didn’t want to be a star,” he continued, wallowing in nostalgia, “because you despised the star system. And we said, Hadra and Sulijoo and me, that we didn’t think you had the option. And what do you do now? You buy star systems!”
He turned and solicited the attention of those at nearby tables.
“Here,” he said, “is a man who buys star systems!”
Hotblack Desiato made no attempt either to confirm or deny this fact, and the attention of the temporary audience waned rapidly.
“I think someone’s drunk,” muttered a purple bush-like being into his wine glass.
Ford staggered slightly, and sat down heavily on the chair facing Hotblack Desiato.
“What’s that number you do?” he said, unwisely grabbing at a bottle for support and tipping it over – into a nearby glass as it happened. Not to waste a happy accident, he drained the glass.
“That really huge number,” he continued, “how does it go? ‘Bwarm! Bwarm! Baderr!!’ something, and in the stage act you do it ends up with this ship crashing right into the sun, and you actually do it!”
Ford crashed his fist into his other hand to illustrate this feat graphically. He knocked the bottle over again.

“哈……”赞福德说，“我们现在是在宇宙的尽头，可你还没有曾经活过这段时光。难怪你认不出来。”
他没有再纠缠下去，和她来到了侍者一直在那儿等着的那张桌前。阿瑟跟着他们，感到非常失落，非常孤独。
福特费力地穿过桌子堆，想和老熟人续上关系。
“嘿……嗯，霍特市莱克，”他喊道，“你怎么样？见到你真是太好了！你那些吵吵闹闹的音乐搞得如何？你看起来真的极度肥胖、非常病态，真让人吃惊啊！”他在那个男人后背上拍了一下，发觉这一举动似乎并没有引起什么反应，不由得稍觉诧异……但泛银河系含漱爆破药在他体内翻腾，告诉他不要理会这些。
“还记得过去那些日子吗？”他说，“我们在一块儿鬼混的日子……非法小酒馆，还记得吗？斯里姆的噪音商场，邪恶机场的烂醉如泥，真是美妙的日子啊，嗯？”
霍特布莱克·迪西亚托对那些日子究竟是好是坏没有发表任何意弛。福特却并没感到丝毫不安，
“当饿了的时候，我们就会装成公共卫生巡视员，你还记得吧。我们到处骗吃骗喝，对吗？直到我们食物中毒。哦，还有那些一边聊天一边喝酒的漫漫长夜，在新蚍特尔的格雷琴镇上的路易斯咖啡馆楼上的那些臭烘烘的房间里，而你总是躲在隔壁房间，试着写你的电吉他谱子，我们都讨厌那些歌，你说体不在意，我们却说我们任意，因为我们简直太讨厌它们了。”泪水开始涌进福特的眼睛。
“你说你并不想当明星，”他继续说道，完全沉浸在对往昔的思念中，“我为你鄙视明星制。我们——哈德扭、苏利居和我——则说，我们认为你根本没有选择的余地－－看看你现在做了些什么吧，你接受了明星制的现实！”
他转过身来，希望引起周闹餐桌上的人的注意。
“这里，”他说，“坐着一个接受了明星制的人。”
霍特布莱克·迪西亚托没有表现出任何试图确认或否认这一说法的意思，听众们暂时被吸引过来的注意力很快就消散了。
“我想有的人喝醉了。”一个头发乱糟糟的紫色生物对着自己的红酒杯嘟哝道。
搞特微微晃了一晃，然后重重地一屁股坐在霍特布莱克·迪西亚托对面的椅子上，
“那一次你是怎么干的？”他说，一边很不明智地伸手去抓一个瓶子，想用它支撑身体，但却把它打翻了……恰好倒进旁边的一个玻璃杯里。为了不浪费这次令人愉快的事故，他把这杯酒喝了个精光。
“那一次干得太棒了！”他继续说道，“怎么样的来着，‘砰！砰！乓！’，舞台表演，你居然干出来了，以一艘飞船直坠太阳，最终。你居然干出来了！”
福特用拳头去砸另一只手掌，以便能形象地解释这一举动他再次把瓶子碰倒了。