The
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Douglas
Adams
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Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable
end of the Western Spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow
sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is
an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life
forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches
are a pretty neat idea.
This planet has - or rather had - a problem, which was
this: most of the people on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time.
Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were
largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which
is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that
were unhappy.
And so the problem remained; lots of the people were
mean, and most of them were miserable, even the ones with digital watches.
Many were increasingly of the opinion that they'd all
made a big mistake in coming down from the trees in the first place. And
some said that even the trees had been a bad move, and that no one should
ever have left the oceans.
And then, one Thursday, nearly two thousand years after
one man had been nailed to a tree for saying how great it would be to be
nice to people for a change, a girl sitting on her own in a small cafe
in Rickmansworth suddenly realized what it was that had been going wrong
all this time, and she finally knew how the world could be made a good
and happy place. This time it was right, it would work, and no one would
have to get nailed to anything.
Sadly, however, before she could get to a phone to tell
anyone about it, a terrible, stupid catastrophe occurred, and the idea
was lost forever.
This is not her story.
But it is the story of that terrible, stupid catastrophe
and some of its consequences.
It is also the story of a book, a book called The
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - not an Earth book, never published
on Earth, and until the terrible catastrophe occurred, never seen or heard
of by any Earthman.
Nevertheless, a wholly remarkable book.
In fact, it was probably the most remarkable book ever
to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor - of which
no Earthman had ever heard either.
Not only is it a wholly remarkable book, it is also a
highly successful one - more popular than the Celestial Home Care
Omnibus, better selling than Fifty-three More Things to do
in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolon Colluphid's
trilogy of philosophical blockbusters, Where God Went Wrong,
Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes and Who is this
God Person Anyway?
In many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer
Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, the Hitchhiker's Guide has already
supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard
repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for though it has many omissions
and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, it
scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects.
First, it is slightly cheaper; and second, it has the
words Don't Panic
inscribed in large friendly letters on its cover.
But the story of this terrible, stupid Thursday, the
story of its extraordinary consequences, and the story of how these consequences
are inextricably intertwined with this remarkable book begins very simply.
It begins with a house.