A/N: Yes, I was finally inspired to do this after rereading "Where Do Babel Fish Go When They Die?" by Aces. I figured it was time for my (overdue) long dark tribute to the soul of Douglas Adams.
It was a naptime of sorts on the Heart of Gold, and all was quiet.
Well, Marvin's feet were clacking as he paced the corridor morosely, but apart from that, all was quiet. A black-clad figure emerged from the door leading to the Improbability Drive. Another followed, then another, and another, until 10 or 15 had emerged. Each was carrying a book under one black-sleeved arm. They sat in a circle, as Martin's feet clacked in the distance.
The first one shed a tear. "Here's to you, sir."
They each opened their book, grief and silence hanging in the air.
Finally, one started laughing, quietly so as not to be heard. Another looked up, and smiled, raising his eyes to the view of the stars outside. Laughter filled the room. Marvin's clacks came closer, and eyes widened. They reopened the hatch to the Drive, and escaped, but one paused. She had been the last one to come out, she was the last to leave.
"Here's to you, sir."
Later in the day, a circle of books were found. All of them were titled "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
