‘She hit me on the head with the rock again.’
‘I think I can confirm that that was my daughter.’
‘You have to get to know her,’ said Arthur.
‘She eases up does she?’
‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘but you get a better sense of when to duck.’ Ford held his head and tried to see straight.
The sky was beginning to lighten in the west, which was where the sun rose. Arthur didn’t particularly want to see it. The last thing he wanted after a hellish night like this one was some blasted day coming along and barging about the place.
‘What are you doing in a place like this, Arthur?’ demanded Ford.
‘Well,’ said Arthur, ‘making sandwiches mostly.’
‘I am, probably was, the sandwich maker for a small tribe. It was a bit embarrassing really. When I first arrived, that is, when they rescued me from the wreckage of this super high-technology spacecraft which had crashed on their planet, they were very nice to me and I thought I should help them out a bit. You know, I’m an educated chap from a high-technology culture, I could show them a thing or two. And of course I couldn’t. I haven’t got the faintest idea, when it comes down to it, of how anything actually works. I don’t mean like video-recorders, nobody knows how to work those. I mean just something like a pen or an artesian well or something. Not the foggiest. I couldn’t help at all. One day I got glum and made myself a sandwich. That suddenly got them all excited. They’d never seen one before. It was just an idea that had never occurred to them, and I happen to quite like making sandwiches, so it all sort of developed from there.’
‘And you enjoyed that?’
‘Well, yes, I think I sort of did, really. Getting a good set of knives, that sort of thing.’
‘You didn’t, for instance, find it mind-witheringly, explosively, astoundingly, blisteringly dull?’
‘Well, er, no. Not as such. Not actually blisteringly.’