didn't know precisely why he had stolen it, then again, actually he enjoyed it.
He didn't know why he had progressed toward becoming President of the Galaxy, then again, actually it
appeared a fun thing to be.
He improved reasons than these, yet that they were
covered in a dull, bolted of f area of his two cerebrums. He wished the dim,
bolted of f segment of his two cerebrums would leave since they periodically
surfaced immediately and put interesting considerations into the light, fun segments of
his brain and endeavored to avoid him from what he saw just like the fundamental business
of his life, which was to have a superbly decent time.
Right now he was not having a magnificently decent time. He had run out
of tolerance and pencils and was feeling extremely eager.
"Starpox!" he yelled.
At that equivalent exact minute, Ford Prefect was in mid air. This was not a direct result of anything amiss with the ship's counterfeit gravity field, but since he
was jumping down the stair-well which prompted the ship's close to home lodges. It was
a high bounce to do in one bound and he landed gracelessly, lurched, recuperated, hustled down the passageway sending several smaller than usual administration robots
flying, slipped round the corner, burst into Zaphod's entryway and clarified what
was at the forefront of his thoughts.
"Vogons," he said.
A brief time before this, Arthur Dent had set out from his lodge in pursuit
of some tea. It was anything but a journey he left upon with a lot of
positive thinking., since he realized that the main wellspring of hot beverages on the whole
send was an ignorant bit of gear created by the Sirius Cybernetics
Enterprise. It was known as a Nutri-Matic Drinks Synthesizer, and he had experienced it previously.
It professed to create the most stretched out conceivable scope of beverages by and by coordinated
to the preferences and digestion of whoever minded to utilize it. At the point when put to the
test, be that as it may, it constantly delivered a plastic container loaded up with a fluid that was
nearly, yet nit, altogether dissimilar to tea.
He endeavored to dissuade the thing.
"Tea," he said.
"Offer and Enjoy," the machine answered and gave him one more
measure of the wiped out fluid.
He discarded it.
"Offer and appreciate," the machine rehashed and gave him another.
"Offer and Enjoy" is the organization witticism of the tremendously fruitful Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Complaints division, which presently covers the real land
masses of three medium estimated planets and is the main piece of the Corporation
to have demonstrated a predictable benefit as of late.
The witticism stands - or rather stood - in three mile high lit up letters close
the Complaints Department spaceport on Eadrax. Lamentably its weight
was with the end goal that not long after it was raised, the ground underneath the letters buckled
in and they dropped for about a large portion of their length through the of fices of numerous
gifted youthful dissensions administrators - now expired.
The projecting upper parts of the letters currently show up, in the nearby dialect,
to peruse "Go stick your head in a pig", and are never again enlightened, with the exception of
on occasion of uncommon festival.
Arthur discarded a 6th measure of the fluid.
"Tune in, you machine," he stated, "you guarantee you can blend any drink in
presence, so for what reason do you continue giving me the equivalent undrinkable stuf f?"
"Nourishment and pleasurable sense information," burbled the machine. "Offer and Enjoy."
"It tastes foul!"
"On the off chance that you have appreciated the experience of this beverage," proceeded with the machine,
"why not impart it to your companions?"
"Since," said Arthur pungently, "I need to keep them. Will you endeavor to understand what I'm letting you know? That drink ..."
"That drink," said the machine sweetly, "was exclusively custom fitted to meet
your own necessities for sustenance and delight."
"Ok," said Arthur, "so I'm a masochist on eating routine am I?"
"Offer and Enjoy."
"Goodness quiets down."
"Will that be all?"
Arthur chose to surrender.
"Truly," he said.
At that point he chose he'd be dammed on the off chance that he'd surrender.
"No," he stated, "look, it's, extremely basic ... all I need ... is some tea. You
will make one for me. Stay silent and tune in."
What's more, he sat. He educated the Nutri-Matic regarding India, he informed it concerning China, he
informed it regarding Ceylon. He educated it regarding wide leaves drying in the sun. He told
it about silver tea kettles. He informed it concerning summer evenings on the yard. He
informed it concerning putting in the drain before the tea so it wouldn't get burnt. He
indeed, even let it know (quickly) about the historical backdrop of the East India Company.
"With the goal that's it, will be it?" said the Nutri-Matic when he had wrapped up.
"Indeed," said Arthur, "that is the thing that I need."
"You need the essence of dried leaves bubbled in water?"
"Er, yes. With drain."
"Squirted out of a bovine?"
"All things considered, so to speak I assume ..."
12 CHAPTER 1.
"I will require some assistance with this one," said the machine curtly. All the
sprightly burbling had dropped out of its voice and it currently implied business.
"Indeed, anything I can do," said Arthur.
"You've done sufficiently very," the Nutri-Matic educated him.
It brought up the ship's PC.
"Hello!" said the ship's PC.
The Nutri-Matic disclosed about tea to the ship's PC. The PC
boggled, connected rationale circuits with the Nutri-Matic and together they passed
into a bleak quiet.
Arthur watched and sat tight for some time, yet nothing further occurred.
He pounded it, yet at the same time nothing occurred.
In the end he surrendered and meandered up to the extension.
In the unfilled squanders of room, the Heart of Gold hung still. Around it bursted
the billion pinpricks of the Galaxy. Towards it crawled the monstrous yellow piece of
the Vogon tran