Автостопом по галактике

Chapter 5

           Arthurproddedthemattressnervouslyandthensatonithimself:infacthehadverylittletobenervousabout,becauseallmattressesgrownintheswampsofSquornshellousZetaareverythoroughlykilledanddriedbeforebeingputtoservice.Veryfewhaveevercometolifeagain.

           FordhandedthebooktoArthur.

           "Whatisit?"askedArthur.

           "TheHitchhiker’sGuidetotheGalaxy.It’sasortofelectronicbook.Ittellsyoueverythingyouneedtoknowaboutanything.That’sitsjob."

           Arthurturneditovernervouslyinhishands.

           "Ilikethecover,"hesaid."Don’tPanic.It’sthefirsthelpfulorintelligiblethinganybody’ssaidtomeallday."

           "I’llshowyouhowitworks,"saidFord.HesnatcheditfromArthurwhowasstillholdingitasifitwasatwo-week-deadlarkandpulleditoutofitscover.

           "Youpressthisbuttonhereyouseeandthescreenlightsupgivingyoutheindex."

           Ascreen,aboutthreeinchesbyfour,litupandcharactersbegantoflickeracrossthesurface.

           "YouwanttoknowaboutVogons,soIenterthatnameso."Hisfingerstappedsomemorekeys."Andthereweare."

           ThewordsVogonConstructorFleetsflaredingreenacrossthescreen.

           Fordpressedalargeredbuttonatthebottomofthescreenandwordsbegantoundulateacrossit.Atthesametime,thebookbegantospeaktheentryaswellinastillquietmeasuredvoice.Thisiswhatthebooksaid.

           "VogonConstructorFleets.HereiswhattodoifyouwanttogetaliftfromaVogon:forgetit.TheyareoneofthemostunpleasantracesintheGalaxy—notactuallyevil,butbadtempered,bureaucratic,officiousandcallous.

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