英文原版

The sign flicked off again, in a way which Arthur was not at all certain he liked. It flicked off with a sort of contemptuous flourish. Arthur then tried to assure himself that this was just a ridiculous trick of his imagination. A neon sign is either on or off, depending on whether it has electricity running through it or not. There was no way, he told himself, that it could possibly effect the transition from one state to the other with a contemptuous flourish. He hugged himself tightly in his dressing gown and shivered, nevertheless.
The neon sign in the depths now suddenly lit up, bafflingly, with just three dots and a comma. Like this:
…,
Only in green neon.
It was trying, Arthur realized after staring at this perplexedly for a second or two, to indicate that there was more to come, that the sentence was not complete. Trying with almost superhuman pedantry, he reflected. Or at least, inhuman pedantry.
The sentence then completed itself with these two words:
Arthur Dent.
He reeled. He steadied himself to have another clear look at it. It still said Arthur Dent, so he reeled again.
Once again, the sign flicked off, and left him blinking in the darkness with just the dim red image of his name jumping on his retina.
Welcome, the sign now suddenly said.
After a moment, it added:
I Don’t Think.
The stone-cold fear which had been hovering about Arthur all this time, waiting for its moment, recognized that its moment had now come and pounced on him. He tried to fight it off. He dropped into a kind of alert crouch that he had once seen somebody do on television, but it must have been someone with stronger knees. He peered huntedly into the darkness.
Er, hello? he said.
He cleared his throat and said it again, more loudly and without the “er”. At some distance down the corridor it seemed suddenly as if somebody started to beat on a bass drum.
He listened to it for a few seconds and realized that it was just his heart beating.
He listened for a few seconds more and realized that it wasn’t his heart beating, it was somebody down the corridor beating on a bass drum.
Beads of sweat formed on his brow, tensed themselves, and leapt off. He put a hand out on the floor to steady his alert crouch, which wasn’t holding up very well. The sign changed itself again. It said:
Do Not be Alarmed.
After a pause, it added:
Be Very Very Frightened, Arthur Dent.
Once again it flicked off. Once again it left him in darkness. His eyes seemed to be popping out of his head. He wasn’t certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point.
Hello? he said again, this time trying to put a note of rugged and aggressive self-assertion into it. Is anyone there?
There was no reply, nothing.
This unnerved Arthur Dent even more than a reply would have done, and he began to back away from the scary nothingness. And the more he backed away, the more scared he became. After a while he realized that the reason for this was because of all the films he had seen in which the hero backs further and further away from some imagined terror in front of him, only to bump into it coming up from behind.
Just then it suddenly occurred to him to turn round rather quickly.
There was nothing there.
Just blackness.
This really unnerved him, and he started to back away from that, back the way he had come.
After doing this for a short while it suddenly occurred to him that he was now backing towards whatever it was he had been backing away from in the first place.
This, he couldn’t help thinking, must be a foolish thing to do. He decided he would be better off backing the way he had first been backing, and turned around again.
It turned out at this point that his second impulse had been the correct one, because there was an indescribably hideous monster standing quietly behind him. Arthur yawed wildly as his skin tried to jump one way and his skeleton the other, whilst his brain tried to work out which of his ears it most wanted to crawl out of.
Bet you weren’t expecting to see me again, said the monster, which Arthur couldn’t help thinking was a strange remark for it to make, seeing as he had never met the creature before. He could tell that he hadn’t met the creature before from the simple fact that he was able to sleep at nights. It was… it was… it was…
Arthur blinked at it. It stood very still. It did look a little familiar.
A terrible cold calm came over him as he realized that what he was looking at was a six-foot-high hologram of a housefly.
He wondered why anybody would be showing him a six-foot-high hologram of a housefly at this time. He wondered whose voice he had heard.
It was a terribly realistic hologram.
It vanished.
那行字又熄灭了。阿瑟一点也不喜欢那种熄灭方式。它是以一种带有鄙视感的、花哨的效果熄灭的。于是，阿瑟告诉自己，这只是可笑的幻觉。霓虹灯要么开、要么关，取决于是否有电流从中通过。他告诉自己，霓虹灯在两种状态之间转换，绝不可能有什么鄙视感的花哨效果。他用睡袍裹紧了自己，微微发抖。
空中的霓虹灯又突然亮了起来。奇怪的是，只有三个点，和一个逗号。就像这样：
“…，”
不过它们是绿色的。
这就是说——阿瑟死死盯了这怪玩意几秒钟，然后他想，后面可能还有，句子还没完呢。他以几乎超人般的学究气这么想着。或者说，非人的学究气。
然后，句子用以下两个单词补全了自己：
“阿瑟·邓特。”
他一阵晕眩。他站定了，又睁大眼睛看了一遍。于是，又一阵晕眩。
那行字再次熄灭，只剩下阿瑟在黑暗中眨巴着眼睛，模糊的、红色的自己的名字，还在视网膜上跳动。
“欢迎你”那灯突然写道。
过了一会，它又补充道：
“是不可能的。”
一股冰凉的恐惧感，一直在阿瑟头上盘旋，等待时机。现在，它觉得时机到了。它猛然俯冲到他身上。他试图与之搏斗。他做了一个防卫的蹲伏动作，以前在电视上看见的，可是，电视上那家伙的膝盖肯定要有力气得多。他费劲地盯着黑暗的前方。
“呃，你好？”他说。
他清了清嗓子，又说了一遍。这次大声了点，而且没有“呃”。走廊下面什么地方，仿佛突然有谁在敲低音鼓。
他听了几秒钟，意识到那是自己的心跳。
他又听了几秒钟，觉得那不是自己的心跳，而是有谁在下面敲低音鼓。
他眉毛上冒出豆大的汗珠，越来越大，最后掉了下来。他一手撑住地面，以便保持他的防卫蹲伏动作。可惜，保持得不太好。霓虹灯又出现了，写道：
“不要紧张。”
停了一下，它又加上：
“要非常非常惊恐，阿瑟·邓特。”
它再次熄灭，再次将他留在黑暗之中。他的眼珠都快掉出来了。他不知道眼珠为什么要掉出来，是因为想看得更清楚，还是只想快点离开这鬼地方？
“你好？”他又开口道。这次他换成了一种飞扬跋扈的、自我宣言式的语气，“有人吗？”
没有回答。什么也没有。
这比有回答更让阿瑟害怕。于是，他开始往后退，想要远离这片恐怖的空地。可他越退，他就越恐怖。不久，他想，这可能是因为：自己看过的所有电影里，那些英雄一步步后退，躲过前方那些假想的恐怖事物时，那些恐怖事物总会从背后猛地冒出来。
他飞快地一扭头。
什么也没有。
只有黑暗。
这真的让他很害怕。他便又开始后退，退回了刚才呆的地方。
过了一小会儿，他忽然想到，现在自己不正在靠近刚才远离的东西吗？
他不禁想：这真是蠢极了。他决定停止后退，转了身。
结果，他的第二个念头才是正确的。因为在他背后，正静静地站着一个丑到无法形容的怪物。一时间，阿瑟惊得六神无主，魂飞魄散。
“我敢打赌，你没想过会再见到我。”怪物说。阿瑟觉得这话很奇怪，因为自己从没见过这个生物。他敢肯定自己没见过，因为自己晚上还能睡得着。它是……它是……它是……？
阿瑟眨着眼睛。它静静地站着。它看上去是有点儿面熟。
顿时，他全身冰凉，认出面前原来是一只六英尺高的苍蝇的全息图。
他很奇怪，为什么会有人在这时给他看一幅六英尺高的苍蝇全息图？他很好奇这是谁在说话。
它真是一幅相当逼真的全息图。
它消失了。

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