"DIONYSUS"
CHAPTER 1
Three comets hurtled through empty space. This was nothing unusual. These comets consisted of water ice and several other frozen compounds including benzene and ethanol. This was nothing unusual. The three comets were rapidly closing in on an uninhabited alien world. This too, was nothing particularly unusual. Each comet was shaped into a perfect cube and each one weighed exactly forty-two gigatons. This was extremely unusual.
*****
Ford Prefect never lost focus on what really mattered in life, no matter what the situation was. Whether he was marooned on Earth, or thrown out of a Vogon spaceship, or even sitting in Milliway's luxurious dining room as he was right now, he always kept life in perspective. He always remembered what he was after. Nothing could stop him. Nothing could hold him back. He was going to get himself mind-bogglingly drunk, and he wasn't going to pay one cent for it.
"This is the worst gin and tonic I have ever tasted!" Ford shouted as he slammed a half-empty glass on the table. "I demand a replacement."
His waiter gave him a cold and measured stare. "Sir," he said very slowly, "you've already had a replacement."
"Yes, yes, and it was as bad as the first," Ford said. He sipped his drink and made a face to illustrate. "But I am a believer in second chances. And third. And fourth," he added, pointing at other empty glasses near at hand. "In fact, I wouldn't hesitate one bit to say that I am a very forgiving man indeed." He pulled at the tablecloth and uncovered a pile of dirty glasses hidden on the floor.
The waiter flinched at the sight. Ford looked at the glasses and shook his head. He sighed in a way that would have conveyed a deep sense of patience and long-suffering, had it not broken into an inebriated giggle.
"I'll see what I can do," the waiter said at last. He left with a threatening bow.
"Thanks a lot," Ford replied sincerely, raising his gin and tonic in salute and then tipping what was left into his mouth.
"Unacceptable," he said aloud.
The waiter returned a short time later with another glass that he carried elegantly on a silver tray. He placed it on the table with a sort of dignified contempt. "You're the best," said Ford, too pleased to notice the waiter's sneer.
"I know, kid, I know," replied a cool voice from behind.
Ford spun around and nearly fell off his chair, partly because he was rather drunk, but mostly because Zaphod Beeblebrox was standing behind him, looking more casual than any man had a right to be as he dusted his fingernails on his jacket.
"Hey, good to see you again, Ford," he said nonchalantly as he snatched the glass the waiter had just placed on the table. One head flashed a smile while the other head drained Ford's latest drink in one gulp.
"You know," Zaphod said to the waiter, "this is probably the worst gin and tonic I've ever had. Give me a different one will you?"
The waiter's eyes flashed and his fist shook, but he stoically took the glass and withdrew into the kitchen again.
"I knew I'd find you here," Zaphod said, pulling up a chair after they were left alone. "The Universe is coming to an end in just a few minutes, and here you are, drinking. That's how I know I can trust you, Ford. You've got your priorities straight."
"Is something the matter?" said Ford.
"I've got an important something I need your help for."
"What do you mean by 'important something?'" Ford asked suspiciously. He wondered if he would regret asking. Given that it was Zaphod Beeblebrox he was talking to, he expected he would.
"Like a really great thing, you know?"
"Not really."
"As in a really amazingly great, uh, thing, right?"
Ford nodded his head noncommittally. He caught sight of his waiter again, carrying another gin and tonic he was willing to bet he could be happily disappointed with.
Zaphod glanced at the waiter, saw that he was still some distance away, and leaned close toward Ford. "I've finally found it," he whispered.
"Found what?" said Ford, more interested in the rapidly approaching alcoholic beverage than whatever it was Zaphod had to say. Accepting his latest glass, he sipped the contents with a look of consideration on his face. He carefully analyzed the complexity of flavors, concentrating on how they combined into a perfect blend of texture, taste, and aroma. The bite of the lemon, the smoothness of the gin, and yet with a—
"The Question," breathed Zaphod.
Ford sat up in his chair, choked, and spit out his drink. He pounded his fist on his chest and coughed, and then he grimaced as he rubbed his watering eyes.
"Enough!" shouted the waiter, red-faced. "You'll get another!" He stomped off toward the kitchen yet again, swearing with every step.
Zaphod kindly waited for Ford to start breathing again before he continued. "The Ultimate Question," he repeated with relish.
"Whose answer is forty-two?" Ford asked, hardly daring to believe it.
"Yeah. Forty-two," Zaphod said.
There was a tense pause as the waiter returned with another drink. He slammed it on the table.
"Enjoy!" he said savagely, darting away before anyone had a chance to complain.
Ford felt hardly able to bear the suspense. Past experience told him Zaphod was most probably making it up, but he couldn't help believing that Zaphod might have really, actually found something this time, something that could change the entire universe. Ford swallowed his drink at once, to calm his nerves.
"And?" he asked at last, in a shaky voice.
"And nothing. Just forty-two."
"No, I know that! And the Question is?"
"The Question is," Zaphod said, now leaning even further across the table and lowering his voice until it was barely audible. He took a deep breath, preparing himself to whisper the words that would change everything ever known about life, the universe, and everything. "The Question is, 'How many tons of olives do I need?'"
"Forty-two?" Ford said slowly, sinking back in his seat. This was ridiculous, even for Zaphod. He felt he needed a strong drink to cope with such a disappointment, and he started looking around for the waiter again.
"Yeah. Forty-two tons of olives. Can you believe it?"
"Olives?"
"Shh!"
"Zaphod, if you ever manage to think of something more insane, please, don't let me know what it is. I don't need this kind of drama in my life."
"And there's more," Zaphod said excitedly. "I happen to know where an Acturan mega-freighter is. There's one parked right outside! And guess what it's delivering? Olives! Do you realize what this means, Ford?"
"It means you're a total lunatic!" Ford said. "Is there any reason why you think I'd help you, or did you just assume that I would jump at the chance to steal a lifetime's supply of olives?" Ford sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Besides," he added, "don't you remember what happened the last time we left Milliway's with a borrowed ship? I seem to recall it involved crashing into a very large star."
Zaphod only smirked. "If you happen to look over your shoulder you'll notice a man carrying a very, very long bill, and he's headed this way. Oh, is that your name I see on it?"
Slowly, and with extreme caution, Ford turned his head to the left. There was indeed a man, stalking up from behind like a wolf about to leap on its prey. An intimidatingly long paper fluttered behind him. Ford couldn't make out what the number printed on the bottom of the bill was, but he didn't need to wait around to find out. It was huge, and that was all he needed to know.
Without warning he leapt onto the table. He dove through the air over Zaphod's heads. Tucking into a roll as he hit the floor, he sprinted toward the exit. He dodged to the left and to the right, but that had more to do with his blood alcohol level than with any kind of strategy.
Zaphod had expected Ford to do something like this, and had already planned his own escape.
"Look everyone!" he shouted, pointing at the man with the bill. "It's Zaphod Beeblebrox!"
Almost immediately the hapless man was surrounded by a mixed mob of tax attorneys, collections agents, bankruptcy consultants, and curious guests who were trying to introduce themselves and shake his hand. Zaphod kicked over the table, purely for style, and ran after Ford, vanishing into the confused mass of people.