“Put your analyst on danger money, baby,” advised Zaphod.
“No, wait a minute,” said Ford, emerging above table level again, “where exactly is here?”
“To be absolutely exact sir, it is Frogstar World B.”
“But we just left there,” protested Zaphod, “we left there and came to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.”
“Yes, sir,” said the waiter, feeling that he was now into the home stretch and running well, “the one was constructed on the ruins of the other.”
“Oh,” said Arthur brightly, “you mean we’ve travelled in time but not in space.”
“Listen you semi-evolved simian,” cut in Zaphod, “go climb a tree will you?”
Arthur bristled.
“Go bang your heads together four-eyes,” he advised Zaphod.
“No, no,” the waiter said to Zaphod, “your monkey has got it right, sir.”
Arthur stuttered in fury and said nothing apposite, or indeed coherent.
“You jumped forward… I believe five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years whilst staying in exactly the same place,” explained the waiter. He smiled. He had a wonderful feeling that he had finally won through against what had seemed to be insuperable odds.
“That’s it!” said Zaphod, “I got it. I told the computer to send us to the nearest place to eat, that’s exactly what it did. Give or take five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years, we never moved. Neat.”
They all agreed this was very neat.
“But who,” said Zaphod, “is the cat on the phone?”
“Whatever happened to Marvin?” said Trillian.
Zaphod clapped his hands to his heads.
“The Paranoid Android! I left him moping about on Frogstar B.”
“When was this?”
“Well, er, five hundred and seventy-six thousand million years ago I suppose,” said Zaphod, “Hey, er, hand me the rap-rod, Plate Captain.”
The little waiter’s eyebrows wandered about his forehead in confusion.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” he said.
“The phone, waiter,” said Zaphod, grabbing it off him. “Shee, you guys are so unhip it’s a wonder your bums don’t fall off.”
“Indeed, sir.”