Chapter 26
Arthur Dent allowed himself for an unworthy moment to think, as they drifted up, that he very much hoped that his friends who had always found him pleasant but dull, or more latterly, odd but dull, were having a good time in the pub, but that was the last time, for a while, that he thought of them.
They drifted up, spiralling slowly around each other, like sycamore seeds falling from sycamore trees in the autumn, except going the other way.
And as they drifted up their minds sang with the ecstatic knowledge that either what they were doing was completely and utterly and totally impossible or that physics had a lot of catching up to do.
Physics shook its head and, looking the other way, concentrated on keeping the cars going along the Euston Road and out towards the Westway flyover, on keeping the streetlights lit and on making sure that when somebody on Baker Street dropped a cheeseburger it went splat upon the ground.
Dwindling headily beneath them, the beaded strings of light of London London, Arthur had to keep reminding himself, not the strangely coloured fields of Krikkit on the remote fringes of the galaxy, lighted freckles of which faintly spanned the opening sky above them, but London swayed, swaying and turning, turned.
Try a swoop, he called to Fenchurch.
What?
Her voice seemed strangely clear but distant in all the vast empty air. It was breathy and faint with disbelief all those things, clear, faint, distant, breathy, all at the same time.
We’re flying… she said.
A trifle, called Arthur, think nothing of it. Try a swoop.
A sw…
Her hand caught his, and in a second her weight caught it too, and stunningly, she was gone, tumbling beneath him, clawing wildly at nothing.
Physics glanced at Arthur, and clotted with horror he was gone too, sick with giddy dropping, every part of him screaming but his voice.
They plummeted because this was London and you really couldn’t do this sort of thing here.
He couldn’t catch her because this was London, and not a million miles from here, seven hundred and fifty-six, to be exact, in Pisa, Galileo had clearly demonstrated that two falling bodies fell at exactly the same rate of acceleration irrespective of their relative weights.
They fell.
Arthur realized as he fell, giddily and sickeningly, that if he was going to hang around in the sky believing everything that the Italians had to say about physics when they couldn’t even keep a simple tower straight, that they were in dead trouble, and damn well did fall faster than Fenchurch.
He grappled her from above, and fumbled for a tight grip on her shoulders. He got it.
第26章
当他们向上飘的时候，阿瑟腾出一点无关紧要的时间想起了他的朋友们，他们总认为他快乐而乏味，或者不如说，古怪而乏味，他希望他们现在在酒馆里面玩得开心。不过这是很长一段时间中他最后一次想起他们了。
他们向上飘，互相绕着对方盘旋，就像是秋天里悬铃木的种子从树上落下那样，只不过方向是相反的。
他们向上飘的时候，狂喜地唱着歌，因为他们知道他们现在正在做的事情是完全彻底根本不可能的，或者物理学还要花很多时间才能搞明白的。
物理学摇摇头，转向另外一个方向，专心地去维持汽车沿着尤斯顿路行进，向着维斯特威立交桥开过去，维持街灯亮着，维持贝克大街上如果有人弄掉了奶酪面包，肯定是奶酪一面着地。
伦敦的灯火像是被串起的珍珠，在他们的下方飞快地缩小——是伦敦，阿瑟不停地提醒自己，不是银河系遥远边缘的阪丘星上色彩怪诞的田野。淡淡的银河系从他们上方的天空中横跨而过。这里是伦敦——被摇晃着也摇晃着，旋转着也被旋转着。
“试着俯冲一下。”他对着芬切琪喊。”
“什么？”
她的声音听起来清楚得不可思议但是在这么空旷的地方感觉很远。因为心存怀疑，喘着气的声音软弱无力——所有这一切，清楚、软弱无力、远、呼吸，同时发生着。
“我们在飞。”她说。
“没什么，”阿瑟喊，“别想这个了。试试俯冲。”
“俯……“
她的手抓住了他的手，突然间她的体重也抓住了他的手，然后令人震惊的是，她消失了，在他下方坠落下去，狂乱而徒劳地想抓住什么东西。
物理学瞟了阿瑟一眼，阿瑟也惊恐地坠落了，那眼花缭乱的跌落让他恶心，除了声音以外他身体的每个部分都在尖叫。
他们垂直落下，因为这里是伦敦，你真的不能在这里干这样的事情。
他没法抓住她，因为这里是伦敦，距离这里不到一百万英里的地方，确切些说，是七百五十六英里远，是比萨，伽利略在哪里清楚地证明了两个下落的物体以相同的加速度下落，无论它们的重量是多少。
他们落下去了。
在眼花缭乱而且恶心的下落的时候，阿瑟意识到，如果他要悬在天上相信连座塔都盖不直的意大利人就物理学所说的话都是对的，那他们就要面对死亡的威胁，于是他就真的比芬切琪落得更快了。
他从上面抓住了她，摸索着去想把她的肩膀抓紧。成功了。