Jeffrey Sinclair realized that he was no longer aboard the shuttle. He was on a beach, but something was off. The sea was steady as a rock and the buildings kept washing up and down. Sinclair felt nauseous, like after one of those wild parties back in the Academy days. He suddenly heard the voice of a young woman.

It sounded like a quite sensible voice, but it just said, "Two to the power of one hundred thousand to one against and falling," and that was all.

Sinclair wondered what that was about. Had he died and this was some sort of an afterlife?

"Two to the power of one seventy five thousand to one against and falling," the voice announced.

"What is going on?" Sinclair asked. He felt as if he was going insane.

"Please relax. You are perfectly safe," the female voice tried to calm him down.

"Welcome," the voice said, "to the starship Heart of Gold. Please do not be alarmed by anything you see or hear around you. You are about to feel some initial ill effects as you have been rescued from certain death at an improbability level of two to the power of two hundred and sixty thousand one hundred and ninety nine against. Possibly much higher. We are now cruising at a level of two to the power of twenty five thousand to one against and falling and we will be restoring normality as soon as we are sure what is normal anyway. Thank you."

This was not part of his plan. Sinclair had a destiny to fulfill. He needed to present Babylon 4 to the Minbari and guide them in the war against the Shadows. He was to become Valen and close the cycle. Something had gone horribly wrong. None of the events that were currently unfolding were supposed to happen. At least they were not mentioned in the letter he had written to himself. He needed to get back to Babylon 4.

"Five to one against again and falling", the voice that belonged to a blonde young woman on the bridge of the starship kept counting down. The woman was sitting at a console, monitoring a large display in front of her, and reading probability levels from the display.

"Four to one against again and falling, three to one, two, one. Probability factor of one to one. We have normality. I repeat, we have normality. Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem," the young woman announced.

"Who is that, Trillian?" a male voice in the background asked.

"Just some guy we picked up in open space. Sector 15", the woman named Trillian answered.

"Yeah, that's a really sweet thought, Trillian. But do you think it's wise right now..." the voice that belonged to a man lounging in a rocking chair with a drink in his hand responded.

"I mean, here we are, on the run and everything and we've got the police of half the galaxy after us and we stop top pick up some hitchhiker", the man said and took a sip of his drink through a straw.

"Yeah, okay. So, 10 out of 10 for style, but minus several hundred million for good thinking.

"He was drifting in a shuttle with almost no oxygen left. You didn't want him to die, did you?" Trillian replied.

"Well, no. Not as such, well, you know.

"A second later and he would have been dead. So if you had taken the trouble to think about it a moment longer the problem would have gone away.

Anyway, I didn't pick him up. The ship did, all by itself.

The man stood up from his chair. He looked like an unusual tall human, with the exception that he had two heads and a third arm.

"Hey what!" he exclaimed.

"Hey what?" his second head repeated.

"The ship picked him up all by itself", the first head tried to explain.

"So what?" his second head asked

"The ship picked him up all by itself. Forget it and go back to sleep", the first head told the second one.

The two-headed man walked over to Trillian.

"It picked him up while we were in infinite improbability drive", she said.

"But that's incredible!" the two-headed man said.

"No, just very, very improbable", she explained.

"Look, don't worry about the alien. He is just some guy, I expect. I'll send the robot down to check him out." she said to the man.

"Hey Marvin!" Trillian said to someone by the door and a large clunky robot came walking onto the bridge.

"I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed," the robot said.

"God!" the two headed guy moaned.

"Here is something to occupy you", the woman said to Marvin.

"It won't work. I have an exceptionally large mind", the robot responded.

"Marvin!" Trillian said.

"Alright. What do you want me to do?" Marvin the robot asked.

"Go down to shuttle bay number 2 and bring the alien up here under surveillance." Trillian said.

"Just that?" Marvin asked.

"Yes!" Trillian said annoyed.

"I won't enjoy it.", Marvin complained.

"She's not asking you to enjoy it, just do it, will you?" the two-headed man reprimanded him.

"Alright, I'll do it", the robot said.

"Good. Good, good. Thank you!" the two-headed man said annoyed.

"I'm not letting you down at all, am I?" Marvin asked

"No, no, Marvin. That's just fine, really." Trillian said.

"I wouldn't", the robot said.

"Just act naturally and everything will be fine" Trillian reassured him.

"You sure you don't mind", Marvin asked.

"No, it's all just part of life", the two headed guy answered.

"Life! Don't talk to me about life", the robot responded

"I don't think I can stand that robot much longer, Zaphod." Trillian complained.

Sinclair found something on the floor, that, judging by the pictures looked like a sales brochure for a spaceship. But he was unable to decipher the language it was printed in. It looked not elegant enough to be High Centauri, and lacked the sharp angles of any of the Minbari languages. The room he was in looked like a shuttle hangar and he was standing next to his shuttle. The surreal beach landscape had disappeared.

While Sinclair was studying the strange brochure and trying to make sense of it, the doors of the room he was in suddenly opened and the large clunky robot walked in.

"Please follow me", the robot said. "I have been ordered to take you up to the bridge. Here I am, a brain the size of a planet and they tell me to take you up to the bridge. Call that job satisfaction. Because I don't.

"Err, excuse me," Sinclair said, "which government owns this ship?"

Instead of giving an answer, Marvin started complaining about the doors on this ship.

"Glad to be of service", the door said slowly.

The robot turned around started to walk, going on about the doors again, with Sinclair walking behind him.

"Please enjoy your trip to this door," the door said and opened in front of them.

Marvin walked through and Sinclair followed him, wondering what all this was about.

"Thank you", the door said after closing behind both of them.

"Which government owns this ship?" Sinclair repeatedly tried to ask again, with the robot constantly interrupting him.

"No government owns it," snapped the robot, "it's been stolen."

"Stolen?"

"Stolen?" Marvin mimicked.

"By whom?" Sinclair asked.

"Zaphod Beeblebrox." The robot answered.

"Excuse me? I've never heard of anyone named Zaphod Beeblebrox. Could you please tell me, what year is it? Which sector are we in?

"I do not know what year it is this time. And I do not have the faintest idea which sector we are in. We might be at every single point in time and space simultaneously as far as I am concerned."

"What do you mean?"

"We are travelling at an infinite improbabilistic speed. Anyway, this all gets my internal chronometer all mixed up, which is very depressing." the robot explained.

"Here is another one of these self-satisfying doors", Marvin said as they reached the door to the bridge.

"Life! Don't talk to me about life", he rambled on.

"I didn't even mention it", Sinclair said.

"Glad to be of service, the bridge door said and opened in front of them.