(单词翻译:单击)
名著阅读
Trillian couldn't sleep. She sat on a couch and stared at a small cage which contained her last and only links with Earth — two white mice that she had insisted Zaphod let her bring. She had expected not to see the planet again, but she was disturbed by her negative reaction to the planet's destruction. It seemed remote and unreal and she could find no thoughts to think about it. She watched the mice scurrying round the cage and running furiously in their little plastic treadwheels till they occupied her whole attention. Suddenly she shook herself and went back to the bridge to watch over the tiny flashing lights and figures that charted the ship's progress through the void. She wished she knew what it was she was trying not to think about.
Zaphod couldn't sleep. He also wished he knew what it was that he wouldn't let himself think about. For as long as he could remember he'd suffered from a vague nagging feeling of being not all there. Most of the time he was able to put this thought aside and not worry about it, but it had been re-awakened by the sudden inexplicable arrival of Ford Prefect and Arthur Dent. Somehow it seemed to conform to a pattern that he couldn't see.
Ford couldn't sleep. He was too excited about being back on the road again. Fifteen years of virtual imprisonment were over, just as he was finally beginning to give up hope. Knocking about with Zaphod for a bit promised to be a lot of fun, though there seemed to be something faintly odd about his semi-cousin that he couldn't put his finger on. The fact that he had become President of the Galaxy was frankly astonishing, as was the manner of his leaving the post. Was there a reason behind it? There would be no point in asking Zaphod, he never appeared to have a reason for anything he did at all: he had turned unfathomably into an art form. He attacked everything in life with a mixture of extraordinary genius and naive incompetence and it was often difficult to tell which was which.
Arthur slept: he was terribly tired.
There was a tap at Zaphod's door. It slid open.
"Zaphod ...?"
"Yeah?"
"I think we just found what you came to look for."
"Hey, yeah?"
崔莉恩失眠了。她坐在沙发上，盯着面前的一个小笼子，里面装着她和地球之间惟一的联系——两只小白鼠。这还是她坚持说服赞福德让自己带上的。虽说她原本已经想好了再也不会回到那颗星球，但它被毁灭的消息还是给她带来了沉重的消极反应——虽然这件事看上去那么遥远，那么不真实，她完全找不到任何理由去想。她凝视着小白鼠在笼子里乱窜，在它们的塑料小踏车上疯狂地奔跑，直到它们占据了她的全部注意力。突然，她站起身，回到控制桥上，去看那些标识出飞船在虚空中行进路线的闪烁的灯光和数字。她希望知道自己正试图不去思考的那个东西究竟是什么。
赞福德失眠了。他也希望知道自己无法让自己思考的那个东西究竟是什么。自从记事以来，他就被一种模模糊糊、断断续续、似是而非的感觉所困扰。大多数时间，他能把这种感觉放到一边，不去担心它。但是现在，这种感觉被福特·普里弗克特和阿瑟。登特突然而又解释不清的到来唤醒了。
福特也失眠了。终于又回到漫游的路上，这让他兴奋不已。15年的煎熬终于结束了，就在他正要放弃最后的希望前的那一刹那。遇见赞福德也很有意思，虽然自己的这位半个堂兄有点儿奇怪。他成为银河系总统这个事实，以及他离开这个职位的方式，说实在的，让人觉得不可思议。这背后有什么原因吗？问赞福德肯定是没有用的，他干所有事情都没什么原因；他简直已经把深不可测变成了一门艺术。他在生活中所做的每一件事都是出于非凡的天才和无能的幼稚的混合物，而且通常很难区分出哪部分是哪部分。
阿瑟睡着了：他实在是太累了。
有人在敲赞福德的门。门开了。
“赞福德……”
“什么事？”
“我想我们刚刚找到你来这儿要寻找的东西了。”
“喔，是吗？”
背景阅读
作者简介：
道格拉斯·亚当斯（Douglas Noël Adams，1952年3月11日－2001年5月11日）是一位英国广播剧作家、和音乐家，尤其以《银河系漫游指南》系列作品出名。亚当斯自称为“极端无神论者”。在去世以前，他是一位非常受欢迎的演讲者，尤其是在科技和环保等题材方面。他在49岁时的早逝在科幻和奇幻社群中引起了极大的哀悼。
本书简介：
地球被毁灭了，因为要在它所在的地方修建一条超空间快速通道。主人公阿瑟·邓特活下来了，因为他有一位名叫福特·长官的朋友。这位朋友表面上是个找不着工作的演员，其实是个外星人，是名著《银河系漫游指南》派赴地球的研究员。两人开始了一场穿越银河的冒险，能够帮助他们的只有《银河系漫游指南》一书中所包括的无限智慧。
豆瓣书评：
《银河系漫游指南》的小说很好看，比电影好看10倍。
它是一个叫道格拉斯·亚当斯的人写的，他当过阿拉伯王公的保镖，准备着一旦有人举着鸡蛋或者炸弹尖叫着跑过来，就立刻鼠窜，他客串过PINKFLOYD的吉他手，因为跟乐队成员是好朋友，他还做过鸡场清洁工，一个扫鸡粪的。。。
我惟一可以与他相媲美的经历是，我小时候在农场放过猪。我的姥爷是大队的饲养员，麾下五百多号猪，甚是了得。年少有为的我帮他拿着一条长鞭子，把猪全都赶回圈里，一头都不能少。谁想这段经历奠定了我一生的命运，我后来当上了主编（猪编）。王小波也放过猪，他写了《一只特立独行的猪》，我的境界没那么高，我从农场所惟一获取的知识是——尽管猪粪很臭，但猪肉却是好香的。
遗憾的是，道格拉斯·亚当斯于2001年死掉了，才49岁。为什么这些聪明而有趣的人总是活不长久？我知道王小波的时候，他也刚刚死掉。我一直不喜欢巴金，或许是因为他活得太久了，越来越干燥，越来越无趣。。。。
我联系到了出版社，可以搞到《银河系漫游指南》和它的续篇《宇宙尽头的餐馆》。一般的书店找不到这两本书。资料上说，《银河系漫游指南》写了5本，卖了1400万册，是“科幻圣经”，有大批忠实的粉丝。粉丝们对电影不大满意，因为电影很多有趣的东西没传达。但是，我认为电影已经做得很好了，起码，它让我知道了亚当斯。我认为，亚当斯比卢卡斯牛逼100倍。虽然，他赚的钱比卢卡斯少100倍，或者1000倍。我也一直不喜欢卢卡斯的《星球大战》，它太幼稚了。。。。。
这个世界的“快乐与财富关系之定律”是：如果你只让一小撮聪明人或者自以为聪明的人感到快乐，你肯定会早死，并且几乎赚不到什么钱，像亚当斯；如果你让每一个傻瓜和小孩子都乐不可支，你肯定会名利双收，长命百岁，像卢卡斯。
在书的扉页上，有道格拉斯亚当斯的照片。十足一个加肥版的罗伯特德尼罗——只是少了点阴鸷，多了些顽皮。
我爱他，而我并非同性恋。通常，我爱一个女人的身体，爱一个男人的头脑。直到现在，我还没遇到一个有女人身体和男人头脑的女人，却遇到了一大堆有男人身体和女人头脑的男人。 (From:加肥猫)
