Chapter 12
A loud clatter of gunk music flooded through the Heart of Gold cabin as Zaphod searched the sub-etha radio wavebands for news of himself. The machine was rather difficult to operate. For years radios had been operated by means of pressing buttons and turning dials; then as the technology became more sophisticated the controls were made touch-sensitive – you merely had to brush the panels with your fingers; now all you had to do was wave your hand in the general direction of the components and hope. It saved a lot of muscular expenditure of course, but meant that you had to sit infuriatingly still if you wanted to keep listening to the same programme. Zaphod waved a hand and the channel switched again. More gunk music, but this time it was a background to a news announcement. The news was always heavily edited to fit the rhythms of the music.
“. . . and news brought to you here on the sub-etha wave band, broadcasting around the galaxy around the clock,” squawked a voice, “and we’ll be saying a big hello to all intelligent life forms everywhere. . . and to everyone else out there, the secret is to bang the rocks together, guys. And of course, the big news story tonight is the sensational theft of the new Improbability Drive prototype ship by none other than Galactic President Zaphod Beeblebrox. And the question everyone’s asking is. . . has the big Z finally flipped? Beeblebrox, the man who invented the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster, ex-confidence trickster, once described by Eccentrica Gallumbits as the Best Bang since the Big One, and recently voted the Wort Dressed Sentinent Being in the Known Universe for the seventh time. . . has he got an answer this time? We asked his private brain care specialist Gag Halfrunt. . . ”
The music swirled and dived for a moment. Another voice broke in, presumably Halfrunt. He said: “Vell, Zaphod’s jist zis guy you know? ” but got no further because an electric pencil flew across the cabin and through the radio’s on/off sensitive airspace. Zaphod turned and glared at Trillian
– she had thrown the pencil.
“Hey,” he said, what do you do that for?”
Trillian was tapping her fingers on a screenful of figures.
“I’ve just thought of something,” she said.
“Yeah? Worth interrupting a news bulletin about me for?”
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