The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Further Radio Scripts Read online

  It was a gigantic space-borne computer called Hactar, which to this day is remembered as one of the most powerful ever built; like a natural brain, every cellular particle of it carried the pattern of the whole within it, which enabled it to think more flexibly and imaginatively, and also, it seemed, to be shocked.

  The Silastic Armorfiends were engaged in a war with the Strenuous Garfighters of Stug, and when the Strangulous Stilettans of Jajazikstak joined in and forced them to fight on another front, they decided enough was enough, and ordered Hactar to design them an Ultimate Weapon.

  HACTAR: (Huge – not Episode Six – voice) What do you mean –

  THE VOICE: – asked Hactar –

  HACTAR: – by Ultimate?

  THE VOICE: To which the Silastic Armorfiends of Striterax said –

  SILASTIC ARMORFIENDS: Read a bloody dictionary.

  THE VOICE: – and plunged back into the fray.

  So Hactar designed an Ultimate Weapon. It was a very very small bomb which was simply a junction box in hyperspace that would when activated connect the heart of every major sun with the heart of every other major sun at once and thus turn the entire Universe into one gigantic hyperspatial supernova. However, when the Silastic Armorfiends tried to use it, they were extremely irritated to find that it didn’t work, and said so.

  SILASTIC ARMORFIENDS: Oi, Hactar. This bloody bomb’s a dud.

  THE VOICE: Hactar tried to explain.

  HACTAR: I was shocked by the whole idea, and I worked out that there is no conceivable consequence of not setting the bomb off that is worse than the known consequence of setting it off, and I have therefore taken the liberty of introducing a flaw into the design.

  SILASTIC ARMORFIENDS: What do you mean, a flaw?

  THE VOICE: The Silastic Armorfiends disagreed with Hactar.

  SILASTIC ARMORFIENDS: If we’d wanted a duff bomb we would have built it ourselves. You’re space dust, pal. You and the asteroid you rode in on.

  THE VOICE: Then, pausing only to smash the hell out of the Strenuous Garfighters of Stug, and the Strangulous Stilettans of Jajazikstak, they went on to find an entirely new way of blowing themselves up.

  SILASTIC ARMORFIEND 1: You lookin’ at me?

  SILASTIC ARMORFIEND 2: You lookin’ at me?

  BOTH SILASTIC ARMORFIENDS: Right. (Sound of blast)

  FX: Huge argument-settling explosion.

  THE VOICE: Which came as profound relief to everyone else in the Galaxy, particularly the Garfighters, the Stilettans and the potatoes, who— (Click off)

  INT. – STARSHIP BISTROMATH – ROOM OF INFORMATIONAL ILLUSIONS

  FX: Mellow hum.

  TRILLIAN: (Thoughtfully, still eating) Hmmm . . .

  ARTHUR: Trillian. Er, Tricia?

  TRILLIAN: Mm?

  ARTHUR: Ford is looking for his crisps.

  TRILLIAN: Here.

  FX: Crisps handed over.

  ARTHUR: You’ve eaten half the packet!

  TRILLIAN: Well, if he’s hungry, he can order some pasta downstairs, can’t he?

  ARTHUR: (Eating crisps hungrily) Slartibartfast won’t let us.

  TRILLIAN: What, you can’t use the canteen?

  ARTHUR: It’s not a canteen. It’s the central computer. (Contemptuous of his new knowledge) This is the Starship Bistromath. Snap a breadstick in the wrong place and you could find yourself reversing into a black hole. (Eats) Have you experienced the Informational Illusions yet?

  TRILLIAN: I find holograms a bit intense. So I was catching up using the Hitchhiker’s Guide.

  ARTHUR: Oh, that thing. You know it’s written by people like Ford Prefect. (Eats)

  TRILLIAN: Nuh-huh?

  ARTHUR: Full of omissions – always leaves out the bit about ‘your life is in immediate danger’. Look, about that party—

  TRILLIAN: Even if we get to the asteroid before the robot cricket team, how do we know they’ll . . . play ball.

  ARTHUR: They’ve got the key which releases their planet, what do they care? Now, that Thor chap.

  TRILLIAN: Hm?

  ARTHUR: Well, if you find hammers a turn-on—

  TRILLIAN: Didn’t it occur to you to wonder how the Key was lost in the first place? Or how eleven Krikkit robots could escape from the Slo-Time envelope surrounding the planet they were built on?

  ARTHUR: Er – no. The Informational Illusion didn’t cover that.

  TRILLIAN: Ah. The Guide does.

  ARTHUR: Really.

  TRILLIAN: They weren’t on Krikkit when it was sealed off – but on their warship. And just after the Slo-Time envelope was locked, they swooped down to steal the Key. In the resulting battle, the Key, the warship and its robots were blasted into the space-time continuum.

  ARTHUR: And now they’re back, as lethal as ever, and they’ve collected all the pieces of the key, and certain Thunder Gods I could name didn’t lift a hammer to stop them.

  TRILLIAN: But if these robots escaped the Slo-Time envelope, they represent the technology that the Krikkit people possessed ten billion years ago.

  ARTHUR: Not to mention the paranoid xenophobia.

  TRILLIAN: Exactly . . . Cut off from the rest of the Universe for millennia, can you imagine what weapons of destruction the people of Krikkit have been developing since then, hoping for just this moment?

  ARTHUR: (Stops eating) Cor. Crikey. Good point.

  FX: Muffled in background, Krikkit ship appears with a noise like a hundred thousand people saying ‘wop’. They do not notice.

  ARTHUR: (cont’d) No wonder Slartibartfast has been in such a lather.

  TRILLIAN: We have to stop those robots.

  ARTHUR: (Eating again) Mmph.

  TRILLIAN: (Not unfriendly) And Arthur . . .

  ARTHUR: Yes?

  TRILLIAN: If you want better luck at parties . . .

  ARTHUR: (Golly, is my luck changing?) Yes – Tricia?

  TRILLIAN: There’s . . . one thing you need.

  ARTHUR: (Swallowing) What?

  TRILLIAN: Laundering.

  ARTHUR: Hm.

  FX: Tannoy BZT!

  SLARTIBARTFAST: (Distorted) Come down to the flight deck, Earth people.

  ARTHUR: Ah, ha.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: We have arrived at the asteroid, but the Krikkit robots have begun the ceremony. I will begin the landing cycle, but all we can do now . . . is watch.

  ARTHUR: Oh.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: And now, back to the music.

  FX: They rush out of the room as dreadful Bistromathic muzak wows in . . .

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  FX: Eerie feel.

  THE VOICE: On the mile-wide asteroid pursuing a lonely and eternal orbit around an enclosed star system, Arthur Dent, Slartibartfast, Ford Prefect and Trillian find themselves party to an astonishing scene. Eleven white robots stand around a white Krikkit warship, quietly parked amid the stark grey crags.

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – VALLEY

  FX: Thin cold feel, like stratospheric wisps of air.

  Marching of metallic Krikkit robot feet.

  Music to match rhythm, emphasizing gravity of events?

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: (In time to marching) Krikkit . . . Krikkit . . . Krikkit . . . (etc. under:)

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – HILLTOP

  FX: Krikkit robots audible, slappily, at a distance.

  FORD PREFECT: (Moving in, whisper) At the risk of stating the zarking obvious, if we’re too late to stop them, surely we should be getting out of here.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: (Normal voice) The high ground is a good vantage point from which to watch this historic event.

  FORD PREFECT: (Whisper) Shhh! It’s a good vantage point to be spotted by those homicidal robots and blown to pieces.

  TRILLIAN: Mmm. They never seem to look this way.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Of course not. I’ve extended the ship’s Somebody Else’s Problem field to cover this ridge. All the problems of keeping the Starship Bistromath moored to the asteroid, our being able to breathe i
ts meagre atmosphere and, indeed, remaining undiscovered while standing in plain sight, are, therefore—

  ARTHUR: Somebody Else’s.

  FORD PREFECT: Neat.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: However, that does not diminish what is happening here. Here come the last five robots carrying the constituent parts of the Key.

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – VALLEY

  FX: Robots chanting as before, now up close.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: (Over) Assemble the Key.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: (Stop chanting) Assemble the Key.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Steel Pillar of Strength and Power.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Lower leg of the android.

  FX: Tunk!

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Perspex Pillar of Science.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Argabuthon Sceptre of Justice.

  FX: Clik!

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Wooden Pillar of Nature.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Re-carbonized cricket stump.

  FX: Thok!

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Gold Bail.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Heart of the Improbability Drive.

  FX: Tink!

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Silver Bail.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Rory Award for The Most Gratuitous Use Of The Word ‘Fuck’ In A Serious Screenplay.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: The Lock reveals itself.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: (Resume chanting) Krikkit . . . Krikkit . . . Krikkit . . . (etc. under:)

  FX: Huge grating sound of stone upon stone, under:

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – HILLTOP

  FX: Krikkit robots audible, slappily, at a distance.

  TRILLIAN: Look up there. Overhead. Can you see it?

  FORD PREFECT: A huge black patch of nothing with stars around its edge?

  TRILLIAN: The Krikkit Dust Cloud . . . makes you think, doesn’t it?

  ARTHUR: Mm . . . that at any moment a fleet of battlecruisers will come swarming out of it wanting to kill everything everywhere.

  FORD PREFECT: It’s getting bigger. Very quickly.

  TRILLIAN: This asteroid is moving inside it.

  FX: The stone grating stops.

  The Krikkit robots stop chanting.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Shh. The Lock is revealed.

  ARTHUR: Three long grooves connected at one end by two small wiggly grooves. Oh, of course.

  FORD PREFECT: What are they doing? It’s too dark to see.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: (Distant) Insert the key.

  FORD PREFECT: Don’t worry, I think I’ve guessed.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Insert the key.

  FX: Ker-chnk – a bit pathetic, like a mug put down on a fridge.

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: Later editions of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy do include sound effects to illustrate its more obscure entries. However, as the Editor-in-Chief brackets-‘sound’-hyphen-Ursa-Minor-close brackets would be the first to admit, some of their efforts – such as that one – might perhaps have benefited by his team going that extra light year. Even the earless trolls of Fidelio VI would agree that banging a Megadodo Corporation souvenir coffee mug on the Editor-in-Chief’s office mini-bar scarcely cuts the mustard. It is for this reason that the latest update features the work of the small but dedicated independent company, Philadeelia Soundscapers. Their reputation was established not so much with their awe-inspiring repertoire of bangs, bells and whistles, but with their now famous ‘783 thousand bespoke varieties of silence’, such as –

  FX: Silence.

  THE VOICE: (cont’d) and:

  FX: Silence.

  THE VOICE: (cont’d) – the latter winning several major awards. Indeed, Soundscapers argue that there are times when only a medium which bypasses the optic nerve can truly do justice to the ineffability of the Galaxy.

  Take for example the unlocking of the Wicket Gate. Space un-pinches itself and the silence is shattered in a mind-hurting instant, as the key slowly turns in the lock. And to recreate this, Soundscapers have opted for this stark yet elegant compromise.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Insert the key.

  FX: Sound of a champagne cork popping off.

  ARTHUR: Is that all?

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – HILLTOP

  FX: Huge cataclysmic Dirk-special sound effect including opening of Beethoven’s 5th and:

  FORD/ARTHUR:/ SLARTI/TRILLIAN: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

  Big swirly feeling as if all the running sounds at this point are stretched and twisted like a piece of plasticine. This shatters into six discrete frequency bands, diving into each of the channels of a Dolby 5.1 mix, disappearing into the fourth dimension then re-emerging from the opposite channels to recombine themselves back into the 360-degree image we just left. For those listening to the cheaper mix there is a brief digital drop out mixed with the sound of a 1978 BBC Studer A80 being pelted with stale baguettes. It resolves back to normality and:

  SLARTIBARTFAST: The Slo-Time envelope is uncoiled. The solar system of Krikkit revealed within the Dust Cloud.

  ARTHUR: Owww! What is that light?

  FORD PREFECT: It’s the Krikkit sun. You just happened to be looking in the wrong direction.

  TRILLIAN: Yes, but what’s that tiny black speck moving across its disc?

  FX: Krikkit robots audible, slappily, at a distance.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: (Triumphant) Krikkit! Krikkit! Krikkit! (Etc. under:)

  ARTHUR: Slartibartfast, are you certain there are eleven Krikkit robots?

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Absolutely.

  ARTHUR: Then whose are the extra legs coming down the ramp?

  FORD PREFECT: Carrying a Kill-O-Zap blaster . . .

  ARTHUR: Wearing a double-necked Heart of Gold leisure suit?

  TRILLIAN: (Amazed) Zaphod?!

  EXT. – WIKKIT GATE ASTEROID – VALLEY

  ZAPHOD: (For it is indeed he) (Loudly) Stay cool. The situation is totally under control as of this moment in time!

  Krikkit robots stop in mid-chant.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: Intruder.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Club him!

  FX: Blow to Zaphod’s left head.

  ZAPHOD: (Left head) Ow! Who the zark hit my head?

  ZAPHOD: (Right head) Ha, ha. Nobody hit this—

  FX: Krikkit robot calmly walks round to deliver a blow to Zaphod’s right head.

  ZAPHOD: (Right head) Ooh!

  FX: Body thud.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: Destroy the Lock.

  KRIKKIT ROBOTS: Destroy the Lock.

  FX: Explosion. Lock destroyed.

  KRIKKIT ROBOT 1: End of Innings. Return to ship.

  FX: Robots double back to the ship. Ramp up, hatch closes.

  FX: Footsteps as Arthur, Ford, Trillian and Slarti run to help Zaphod.

  FX: Krikkit ship disappears with a noise like a hundred thousand people saying ‘foop’.

  TRILLIAN: Zaphod?

  ZAPHOD: Hey, baby . . . My heads are banging like a pair of wildebeest on heat . . .

  FORD PREFECT: You all right?

  ZAPHOD: Ford, baby . . . Weird, that’s the second time they could have killed me – but didn’t. Maybe they could sense I was a wonderful guy or something. And I can relate to that.

  ARTHUR: (Mordant) He seems his usual self.

  ZAPHOD: Oh, it’s you – monkey man.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: We must get you aboard the ship. A blow from a Krikkit robot war club is no laughing matter.

  ARTHUR: Depends whose heads receive it . . .

  INT. – THE BOOK AMBIENCE

  THE VOICE: Important facts number two, reproduced from the Siderial Daily Mentioner’s Book of Popular Galactic History.

  Since this Galaxy began, vast civilizations have risen and fallen, risen and fallen, risen and fallen so often that it’s quite tempting to think that life in the Galaxy must be:

  (a) something akin to sea sick – space sick, time sick, history sick or some-such, and

  (b) mind-numbingly stupid.

  However:

  INT. – ST
ARSHIP BISTROMATH – FLIGHT DECK

  FX: Starship Bistromath zooms past us. Sounds like a spaceship crossed with an Italian accordion wedding band.

  FX: Ship’s steady hum throughout. Slartibartfast pottering.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Once again we have failed pathetically. Quite pathetically.

  TRILLIAN: You all right, Zebee?

  ZAPHOD: Hey, baby.

  ARTHUR: You’re beginning to repeat yourself.

  ZAPHOD: Yeah. I think there’s something up with those anodized dudes, something fundamentally weird.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: They are programmed to kill everybody.

  ZAPHOD: That’d do it.

  ARTHUR: (Beginning not to care) Well, there you go.

  FORD PREFECT: See, that’s my point. It’s because we don’t care enough. I told you. They’re obsessive and we’re not.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: But unless we determine to take action, then we shall all be destroyed, we shall all die. Surely we care about that?

  FORD PREFECT: Not enough to get killed over it.

  ARTHUR: So that’s goodbye, Galaxy, then.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: No! No, our course is clear. We must go down to Krikkit.

  FORD/ARTHUR/ ZAPHOD LEFT What?!

  ZAPHOD RIGHT: (Who got hit harder) Hey, what?

  SLARTIBARTFAST: Beeblebrox. You surely must have some idea of why they spared your life and brought you to the asteroid. It seems most unusual.

  ZAPHOD: I kind of think even they didn’t know. They just knocked me out, lugged me into their ship, dumped me into a corner and ignored me, like they were embarrassed about me being there. If I said anything they – they knocked me out again. We had some great conversations: ‘Hey . . . ugh!’ ‘Hi, there . . . ugh!’ ‘Excuse me, guys, can I give you money . . . ugh!’ Kept me amused for hours, you know.

  ARTHUR: Here, Zaphod. Catch.

  FX: Small heavy object caught by Zaphod.

  SLARTIBARTFAST: You salvaged the Golden Bail from the wreckage of the Lock?

  ZAPHOD: Heyyyy! The heart of the Heart of Gold!

  ARTHUR: Thought you’d want the Infinite Improbability Drive working again.

  ZAPHOD: I don’t know how to thank you, monkey man.

  ARTHUR: Don’t mention it.

  ZAPHOD: I won’t. Gratitude is such an uncool reflex, I never developed it.

  ARTHUR: I only picked it up because it was lying next to something of value to me.

  FORD PREFECT: A handful of black dust?