Chapter 6
It seemed to Arthur as if the whole sky suddenly just stood aside and let them through.
It seemed to him that the atoms of his brain and the atoms of the cosmos were streaming through each other.
It seemed to him that he was blown on the wind of the Universe, and that the wind was him.
It seemed to him that he was one of the thoughts of the Universe and that the Universe was a thought of his.
It seemed to the people at Lord’s Cricket Ground that another North London restaurant had just come and gone as they so often do, and that this was Somebody Else’s Problem.
What happened? whispered Arthur in considerable awe.
We took off, said Slartibartfast.
Arthur lay in startled stillness on the acceleration couch. He wasn’t certain whether he had just got space-sickness or religion.
Nice mover, said Ford in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise the degree to which he had been impressed by what Slartibartfast’s ship had just done, shame about the decor.
For a moment or two the old man didn’t reply. He was staring at the instruments with the air of one who is trying to convert fahrenheit to centigrade in his head whilst his house is burning down. Then his brow cleared and he stared for a moment at the wide panoramic screen in front of him, which displayed a bewildering complexity of stars streaming like silver threads around them.
His lips moved as if he was trying to spell something. Suddenly his eyes darted in alarm back to his instruments, but then his expression merely subsided into a steady frown. He looked back up at the screen. He felt his own pulse. His frown deepened for a moment, then he relaxed.
It’s a mistake to try and understand mathematics, he said, they only worry me. What did you say?
Decor, said Ford. Pity about it.