Summary: Gordon's bored and decides to find the meaning of life.
Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds belong to people who aren't me. The book, mentioned later, also belongs to a brilliant man, therefore, not me either.
Gordon was bored. A storm had hit the island, so he couldn't go out and swim at all. Scott was down with Thunderbird One, Virgil with Thunderbird Two with Brains, his father was in his office working, TinTin and her parents had gone to the mainland before the storm hit, and Alan was at school. He was bored with no one to bother or be entertained by.
He stared out over the island, watching the trees sway with the wind, the water reflecting the sky's gray color. He watched the tracks of the rain drops on the window. That entertained him for three minutes. He walked around the house, ducking in and out of rooms, trying to find something to occupy himself.
In his boredom, he decided to find the meaning of life. It was a worthwhile goal, one that would bring him fame and glory, not that he really wanted the former, and although he did want the latter, it was for another reason. He was just pursuing it so he didn't go completely stir-crazy. Since everyone else was still rather busy, he called Alan to get his perspective.
"The meaning of life? Gordo, that's heavy," Alan said. "I don't know. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?"
"I was after something more original. At least you were paying attention in history class," Gordon sighed.
"Oh, right," Alan replied, pausing for a moment to think of a more appropriate answer while ignoring the history class comment. "How about love and happiness?"
Gordon shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Thanks, Sprout."
"Well, good luck with the storm. I have to get to class."
Gordon noted Alan's answer, and although it was something, it wasn't the deep answer that he was looking for. His next move was to call John for his take.
"Are you that bored, Gordon?" John said with a tired smile.
"Everything okay up there? You look tired."
"Nothing to worry about. Just a bit of a cold. I think I picked it up from one of you when you did the last supply run."
Gordon frowned, no one else had been sick. "You think it could be worse than a cold?"
"No. Dad picked up on it the last time I talked to him and he made me go over everything with Brains and Virgil. Consensus is that I have a cold."
"Well, you should probably be getting lots of rest. I'll let you go after you tell me what you think the meaning of life is."
"The meaning of life?" John repeated.
Gordon only nodded, keeping silent. He knew that John was already thinking about his answer and needed to formulate it so that it made sense whenever he gave it.
"Can I get back to you on that one?" John asked after a minute.
"Sure, take your time. Take a nap on it if you think it'll help."
Gordon signed off to John muttering something about "three mother-hens thousands of miles away." He smiled, knowing that his father and Virgil must be the other two. He wondered if Scott knew that John wasn't feeling well, or else he'd be the fourth.
His next stop was his father's office. He noticed that the door was cracked open. He peeked in, and saw his father in his chair, staring across the room. Gordon knocked, seeing that his father wasn't working on anything at the moment.
"Come in!" Jeff called, straightening up in his chair. "Gordon, what's on your mind?"
So Gordon explained that he was looking for the meaning of life. Jeff sat in thought for a few moments, then leaned forward, his elbows on the desk.
"I think it's whatever you make it to be."1
Gordon let that sink in, although it didn't make much sense to him at the time. "Thanks dad."
Gordon left and went in search of one of his brothers. He was hoping that either Scott or Virgil would have something useful to contribute, and something that made more sense than his father's answer. Since Thunderbird One's silo was closer, he made his way down there. He ducked in, not wanting to disturb Scott if he was working on something important.
"Oh, hey Gordo!" he heard Scott call from behind him.
Gordon turned, seeing his brother near the door to Thunderbird Two's silo.
"How's everything here?" he asked.
"Everything's good. Just wanted to check some of her internal systems. I was getting some weird readings our last time out."
"But everything's okay?"
Scott nodded. "Nothing serious, just a little odd. I just had to tinker a little. She's good to go now."
Gordon nodded, then asked Scott the same question he'd posed to Alan, John and their father. Scott wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt, then went over to get the water bottle that was standing near Thunderbird One's boosters.
"That's a tough one, I've never really thought about it," Scott admitted, taking a drink from the bottle. "Have you asked anyone else?"
"Just Alan, John and dad."
"What did they say?"
Gordon shook his head, smiling. "Not telling yet. You've got to come up with something yourself. Anyway, John hasn't technically given me his own answer yet. And no calling him to discuss it either. I think he's asleep anyway."
"Asleep?"
Gordon nodded sheepishly. He had figured right, Scott didn't know. He hadn't meant to mention it, he just didn't want Scott to wake John unnecessarily.
"Gordon, what is it?" Scott asked, his voice low with concern.
"John just has a cold."
"John's sick?"
"It's just a cold, Scott."
"Does dad know?"
"Dad's the first one down here to pick up on it. You know John wasn't going to admit he wasn't feeling well."
"That's true."
"Scott, do you think there's anything we can do?"
"Doubt it. It's a cold. Anyway, when it comes to illnesses, he gets over them pretty quick. Just give him a day or two."
"Okay, but back to the meaning of life."
"Hmm…I guess it's just living a good life, appreciating the people around you, and doing something positive."
"That's a good one, thanks."
Gordon went to find Virgil, but stopped when he heard Scott call his name. "Aren't you going to tell me what the Alan and dad said?"
"Not yet," Gordon grinned, "Let me get everyone's answers first."
He was just about to open the door to Thunderbird Two's silo when his wrist communicator went off. He pressed a button and saw John's face appear.
"Have a good nap?" Gordon asked with a smile.
"Didn't sleep," John answered, shaking his head. "That question of yours."
"Have an answer?"
"I just think it's different for everyone. What I think the meaning is could be vastly different from what Scott says or from what dad says…"
"Thanks, John. Oh, and, I, uh, accidentally told Scott you were sick."
John sighed, "I'm surprised he hadn't found out by now anyway. Well, I'll be expecting that call."
After another minute of chit-chat, they signed off and Gordon went into Two's silo. He heard Brains mentioning something about the air filter. He found Brains first, he was outside of Two with something spread out on the table in front of him.
"What's that?" Gordon asked.
"Part of Two's internal air system," Virgil supplied, appearing from behind his craft.
"Something wrong with it?"
"Just seeing if his improved version fits and works," Virgil answered, nicking his head in Brains' direction.
"This new one should w..w…function better."
"What's on your mind?"
"What's the meaning of life?"
Virgil and Brains exchanged glances. Brains just shook his head. "Not sure if there really is a meaning."
"Make dreams real," was the first answer that Virgil gave.
Virgil put a piece down and wiped his hands one his already dirty shirt. He then wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, making his face appear dirtier. Then a wicked grin spread across his face.
"Then there's also Forty-two," Virgil supplied, then picked the piece back up and went back inside his 'Bird.
"What?" Gordon asked. If his father's answer wasn't clear, this made no sense whatsoever.
"Forty-two! The answer to Life, the Universe and Everything is forty-two!" Virgil called.
Gordon glanced at Brains, who merely shrugged. He left Brains at the table and went inside of Two. He found his brother on his back, the upper half of his body underneath some of Two's systems. He kneeled by his brother's legs, gently knocking his knuckles against Virgil's knee.
"Care to explain that one to me?"
"In a se…Ouch!" Virgil began when an unusual popping and crackling sound was heard.
Gordon heard his brother muttering, although he couldn't quite make out what he was saying. He was probably muttering in French, and saying something he didn't want anyone else to hear.
"You ok?" Gordon asked when the muttering ceased and Virgil began making his way out from underneath.
"No permanent damage," Virgil answered when he had a chance to sit up and examine his hands.
"Any temporary damage?"
"Minor burn on two fingers," Virgil answered. "I better tell Brains that that version didn't work out so well."
"I'll tell Brains, you get down to the infirmary and take care of your hand."
"Thanks Gord!" Virgil said as he left Two and headed for the infirmary.
He found Brains at the table and explained what had just happened. The scientist's brow creased for a few seconds.
"Is he al…al…injured?"
"He said he had a minor burn on two fingers."
"I better fix the pa…pa…system."
"I'll go check on Virgil."
Gordon made his way to the infirmary, and on the way, realized something. The number two was Virgil's number that day, more so than usual. After all, he burned two fingers while in Thunderbird Two. And he was the second son of Jeff Tracy, after Scott. He entered the infirmary to find that his older brother was sitting on one of the beds, trying to wrap gauze around his fingers. But since he was trying this one-handed, it was proving difficult.
"Here, let me," Gordon offered, with Virgil nodding his head. "So, according to you, the meaning of life is forty-two."
"Well, yeah, kinda. I mean, the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe and Everything is forty-two. Just need the Ultimate Question."
"The question is: What is the meaning of life?"
Virgil shook his head. "That can't be the question. Forty-two fits the question perfectly."
"You realize that makes no sense at all."
Virgil shrugged. "If you read more, it would."
Gordon glanced up, faking a scowl. And that quickly turned into a smile when Virgil started laughing.
"You sure you're ok?" Gordon asked as Virgil jumped off the table.
"I'm sure. It's gonna hurt for a little while though. I think I'm done with that for the day."
"Between you and John…" Gordon began, following his brother out of the infirmary.
"You talked to John already?"
"And I heard about his cold. Are you going to explain forty-two to me or am I going to have to beat it out of you?"
"Beat it out of me?" Virgil repeated incredulously.
"You know I can."
"You think you can."
"At least tell me what book it's from."
"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams."
Gordon screwed his face in thought for a moment, then remembered his brother reading that particular book.
"Do you still have it?"
"John has it right now. He wanted to know where I got some of my quotes from that I kept throwing at him. That book and its sequels are full of good stuff."
Gordon sighed, then asked, "You think John'll finish it sometime soon?"
"He's already gotten pretty far. Having a cold has left with time to read."
"Maybe I'll read it when he's done and you get it back."
"I'm going in to tell see if Brains needs any help," Virgil said as they reached Two's silo.
"I thought you said you were done for the day."
"I'd love to," Virgil sighed. "But that system's essential. Without it, we don't breathe while we're flying. So it has to be fixed, before we get a rescue call."
"FAB."
Gordon went wondering back into the main part of the house and mused over the various answers he'd received. Alan's and Scott's made sense and were simple. John's made sense as well, and helped clear up his father's answer. And Virgil's was just smartass and didn't make any sense. He decided that he needed an answer of his own, and set out to find one for himself.
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1 I've actually done this. That was my own father's answer. It strikes me as a fatherly thing to say.
2 Another thing I wished I owned that I don't- The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. A brilliant man named Douglas Adams is responsible for that and its sequels. All quote-worthy books. And I pegged Virgil as a reader since he's an artist. And it's rather appropriate for the son of an astronaut.