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Ripped with SubRip 1.14 and Verified by CdinT|(Cristi_Polacsek@SoftHome.net) I deliver perfection...|and don't brag about it! :D 'Arthur Dent,|a perfectly ordinary Earthman, 'was rather surprised|when his friend Ford Prefect 'suddenly revealed himself|to be from a small planet 'in the vicinity of Betelgeuse 'and not from Guildford after all. 'He was even more surprised|when, minutes later, 'Earth was unexpectedly demolished 'to make way|for a new hyperspace by-pass. 'But this was as nothing|to their joint surprise 'when they were rescued from certain|death by a stolen spaceship 'manned by Ford's semi-cousin,|the infamous Zaphod Beeblebrox, 'and by Trillian, a rather nice|young astrophysicist 'Arthur once met at a party|in Islington. 'However, all four of them are soon|totally overwhelmed by surprise 'when they discover that|the ancient world of Magrathea, 'a planet legendary for its trade|in manufacturing other planets, 'is not as dead|as it was supposed to be. 'For Zaphod, Ford and Trillian, 'surprise is pushed to its|very limits when THIS happened...' 'And when Arthur encounters|Slartibartfast, 'the Magrathean coastline designer 'who won an award for his work|on Norway 'and learns that the history|of mankind 'was only being run for the benefit|of a few white mice, 'surprise is no longer adequate 'and he is forced to resort|to astonishment.' Mice?! Mind your head. E-Excuse the mess. Most unfortunate-a diode blew in|one of the life support computers. When we came to revive|our cleaning staff, we discovered they'd been dead|for 30,000 years. Who's going to clear away the bodies?|That's what no one has an answer for. Mice? Look, are we talking|about the same things? Mice are white furry creatures|with a cheese fixation, women standing screaming on tables|in early '60s sitcoms. Earthman, it is sometimes hard|to follow your mode of speech. I have been asleep|inside this planet of Magrathea for... um... five million years and know little of these early '60s|sitcoms of which you speak. These creatures you call mice|are not quite as they appear. They are merely the protrusion|into our dimension of vast hyper-intelligent,|pan-dimensional beings. This business with the cheese|and the squeaking is just a front. They have been experimenting on you. Ahh! No, look, you've got it wrong!|It was us! We experimented on THEM! Making them run down mazes,|ring bells, eat bits of cheese! And, by analysing their behaviour, were learned all sorts of things|about ourselves! - Such subtlety!|- Well... Well, how better to disguise|their true natures, how better to guide your way|of thinking, than to be right down there|amongst you? Suddenly running down the maze|the wrong way, eating the wrong bit of cheese, unexpectedly dropping dead|of myxomatosis. Finely calculated,|the cumulative effect is enormous. Just sit... back... back. I must tell you|that your planet and people have formed the matrix|of an organic computer running a 10-million-year|research programme into the ultimate question of Life,|the Universe... and Everything. They are particularly clever,|hyper-intelligent, pan-dimensional beings. {y:i}Attention! Slartibartfast|{y:i}and the visiting Earth creature {y:i}report to the work's reception area|{y:i}immediately... Repeat, immediately! However, in the field of management|relations, they're shocking. - Really?|- Every time they give me an order, I want to jump on a table and scream. Yes, I can see|that would be a problem. 'There are many problems|connected with life, 'of which some of|the most pressing are... 'Why are people born? 'Why do they die? 'And why do they spend|so much of the intervening time 'wearing digital watches? 'Many millions of years ago,|a race of hyper-intelligent beings 'became so fed-up with the bickering|about the meaning of life 'that they decided to sit down|and solve it once and for all. 'To this end, they built themselves 'a stupendous super-computer|called Deep Thought 'that was so amazingly intelligent 'that even before its data banks|had been connected up, 'it started|from first principles with: 'And deduced the existence|of rice pudding and income tax 'before anyone managed|to turn it off.' Do not be alarmed. 'Only after Deep Thought|has been programmed 'with all the knowledge|in the Universe, do two men, 'selected of all their race,|approach it.' {y:i}What is this great task|{y:i}for which l, Deep Thought, {y:i}the second greatest computer|{y:i}in the Universe {y:i}of Time and Space, |{y:i}have been called into existence? - Your task, O computer...|- No, wait a minute! Did he say "second greatest"? O Deep Thought, are you not,|as we designed you to be, the greatest, the most powerful|computer of all time? {y:i}I described myself as|{y:i}the second greatest and such I am! Can we just clear this up? O Deep Thought,|are you not a greater computer than the Milliard Gargantubrain which|can count all the atoms in a star? {y:i}A Milliard Gargantubrain? |{y:i}A mere abacus! Mention it not! Are you not a greater analyst|than the Googleplex Star Thinker in the 7th Galaxy|of Light and Ingenuity? {y:i}The Googleplex Star Thinker? {y:i}Molest me not|{y:i}with this pocket calculator stuff! But are you not|a more fiendish disputant than the Great Hyperlobic Omnicognate|Neutron Wrangler on Ciceronicus 12?! {y:i}The Great 0mnicognate|{y:i}Neutron Wrangler {y:i}could talk all four legs|{y:i}off an Arcturan megadonkey, {y:i}but only I could persuade it|{y:i}to go for a walk afterwards! Then... what is the problem? {y:i}There is no problem! {y:i}I speak of none but the computer|{y:i}that is to come after me! I think this is getting|needlessly messianic. {y:i}A computer whose merest|{y:i}operational parameters {y:i}I am not worthy to calculate, {y:i}but which it will be my destiny|{y:i}eventually to design! Can we get on and ask the question? Oh, all right. O Great Computer, the task we have|designed you to perform is this. We want you to tell us the answer. {y:i}The answer? {y:i}- The answer to what?|- Life! - The Universe!|- Everything! {y:i}Tricky. But... can you do it? {y:i}Yes, I can do it. You mean... there IS an answer? - A simple answer?|{y:i}- Yes. {y:i}Life, the Universe and Everything. {y:i}There is an answer. - There is an answer! At last!|{y:i}- But I'll have to think about it. - We demand admission!|- Now what? - You can't keep us out!|- We demand you cannot keep us out! - Who are you? Get out of here!|- I am Majkthise! And I demand that I am Vroomfondel! It's all right,|you don't need to demand that! All right, I am Vroomfondel... ...and that is not a demand,|that is a solid fact! What we demand is solid facts! No, we don't! That is precisely|what we DON'T demand! We don't demand solid facts! What we demand is a total absence|of solid facts! I demand that I may, or may not,|be Vroomfondel! - Who are you?|- We are philosophers. - Though we may not be!|- Yes, we are! We are definitely here|as representatives of the Amalgamated Union|of Philosophers, Sages, and Luminaries, and we want the machine off now! We demand that you get rid of it! - What's the problem?|- The problem is demarcation, mate! We demand that demarcation|may or may not be the problem! Let the machines|get on with the adding up and WE'LL take care|of the eternal verities! By law, the quest for ultimate truth is the inalienable prerogative|of your working thinkers! Any machine goes and finds 'em,|we're out of a job! What's the use of our arguing|half the night whether there may... - Or may not!|...be a god... ...if this machine gives you|his phone number in the morning! That's right! We demand rigidly defined areas|of doubt and uncertainty! Might I make an observation|at this point? Keep out of this! We demand that that machine not be|allowed to think about this problem! {y:i}If I might make an observation! {y:i}All I wanted to say was this. {y:i}My circuits|{y:i}are now irrevocably committed {y:i}to calculating the answer {y:i}to the ultimate question|{y:i}of Life, the Universe and Everything, {y:i}but the program will take me|{y:i}a little while to run. - How long?|{y:i}- Seven and a half... - What, not till next week?!|{y:i}- ... million... years! - How long?!|{y:i}- I said I'd have to think about it. {y:i}And it occurs to me that running|{y:i}a program like this {y:i}is bound to create|{y:i}considerable interest {y:i}in the whole area|{y:i}of popular philosophy. {y:i}- Yes?|- Keep talking. {y:i}Everyone's going to have|{y:i}his own theory {y:i}about what answer I'm eventually|{y:i}going to come up with {y:i}and who better to capitalise|{y:i}on that media market {y:i}than you yourselves? {y:i}So long as you can keep violently|{y:i}disagreeing with each other {y:i}and slagging each other off|{y:i}in the popular press, {y:i}and so long as|{y:i}you have clever agents, {y:i}you can keep yourselves|{y:i}on the gravy train for life! Bloody hell!|Now, that's what I call thinking! 'Ere, Vroomfondel, how come|we never think of things like that? Dunno. I think our minds must be|too highly trained, Majkthise. Very salutary, but what about|the Earth and mice? All will become clear to you. Are you not anxious to hear what the|computer said 7.5 million years later? Erm... yes... quite. The time is nearly upon us! 7.5 million years we've waited. 75,000 generations since our ancestors set this program|in motion and, in all that time, we shall be the first to hear|the computer speak. It's an awesome prospect. Deep Thought is about to speak! {y:i}Good evening. G-Good evening. O... Deep Thought... ...do you have... Have you...? {y:i}An answer for you? {y:i}Yes, I have. - There really is one?|{y:i}- There really is one. To everything?|The secret of the Universe? The great questions of Life|and Everything? {y:i}- Yes.|- Are you ready to give it to us? {y:i}- I am.|- Now?! {y:i}Now! Wow! {y:i}Though I don't think|{y:i}you're going to like it. Doesn't matter! We must know it! {y:i}- Now?|- Yes... now. {y:i}All right. - Well?|{y:i}- You're really not going to like it. Tell us! {y:i}- The answer to the great question...|- Yes? {y:i}... of Life, the Universe|{y:i}and Everything... - Yes?|{y:i}- ... is... - Yes?|{y:i}- ... is... - Yes?!|{y:i}- ... 42! {y:i}It was a tough assignment. 42?! Is that all you've got to show|for 7.5 million years' work?! {y:i}I think the problem {y:i}is that you've never known|{y:i}what the question is. But it was the GREAT question, the ultimate question of Life,|the Universe and Everything! {y:i}Yes, but what actually is it? Well... ...just everything! You know... everything! {y:i}Exactly. {y:i}You have to know|{y:i}what the question actually is {y:i}in order to know|{y:i}what the answer means. Well, can you please tell us|the question? {y:i}- The Ultimate Question?|- Yes! {y:i}Of Life, the Universe|{y:i}and Everything? - Yes!|{y:i}- Tricky. But can you do it? {y:i}No. {y:i}But I'll tell you who can. Tell us! {y:i}I speak of none but the computer|{y:i}that is to come after me. {y:i}A computer whose merest|{y:i}operational parameters {y:i}I am not worthy to calculate! {y:i}Yet I will design it for you! {y:i}A computer which can calculate|{y:i}the Answer to the Ultimate Question, {y:i}a computer of such infinite|{y:i}and subtle complexity {y:i}that organic life itself {y:i}shall form part|{y:i}of its operational matrix. {y:i}You yourselves shall take on new|{y:i}forms and go down into the computer {y:i}to navigate|{y:i}its 10-million-year program! {y:i}Yes, I shall design|{y:i}this computer for you {y:i}and I shall name it also unto you {y:i}and it shall be called the Earth! Oh, what a dull name. So there you have it. Deep Thought designed the Earth,|we built it and you lived on it. The Vogons destroyed it 5 minutes|before the program was completed. 10 million years of planning|and work gone. Well, that's bureaucracy for you. Do you know, this explains a lot, because all my life|I've had this feeling in my bones something sinister was happening|in the Universe. No one would tell me what it was. That's just perfectly normal|paranoia. - Everyone in the Universe has that.|- Everyone? Everyone. Maybe that means something! That outside the Universe we know,|some alien intelligence is... Maybe. Who cares? Perhaps I'm old,|but the chances of finding out what really is going on|are so absurdly remote the only thing to do is to say, "Hang|the sense of it" and keep occupied. Look at me. I design coastlines.|I got an award for Norway. Where's the sense in that?|None that I can make out. I've been doing fjords all my life. For a fleeting moment, they become|fashionable. I get a major award. In this replacement Earth,|I've been given Africa to do. I'm doing it with with fjords|because I happen to like them. I'm old-fashioned enough to think|they give a lovely baroque feel to a continent. They tell me it's not equatorial|enough. What does it matter? Science has achieved|wonderful things, but I'd far rather be happy|than right any day. - And are you?|- No. That's where it all falls down. Pity. Sounded like|rather a good lifestyle otherwise. {y:i}Slartibartfast and the Earth|{y:i}creature report to the reception area. Now? To meet mice?|You want me to meet mice now? It won't be a great social occasion. {y:i}At once! I seem to be having difficulty|with MY lifestyle. - I beg your pardon?|- What? Sorry. - Fatuous thing to say, really.|- I thought so. 'It is, of course, well known|that careless talk costs lives, 'but the full scale of the problem|is not always appreciated. 'At the very moment Arthur said: I seem to be having difficulty|with MY lifestyle. 'a freak wormhole opened up in the|fabric of the space-time continuum 'and carried his words|far back in time 'across almost infinite reaches|of space to a distant galaxy 'where strange and warlike beings 'were poised on the brink|of frightful interstellar battle. 'The two leaders|were meeting for the last time. 'A silence fell across|the conference table 'as the commander of the VI'hurgs,|in his red jewelled battle shorts, 'gazed levelly at the G'Gugvunt|leader squatting opposite him 'in a cloud of green,|sweet-smelling steam 'and, with a million|be-weaponed star cruisers 'poised to unleash electric death|at his single word of command, 'challenged the vile creature|to take back what it said 'about his mother. 'The creature stirred|in its sickly broiling vapour 'and at that moment the words... {y:i}I seem to be having difficulty|{y:i}with MY lifestyle. '... drifted across the table. 'Unfortunately,|in the VI'hurg tongue, 'this was the most dreadful insult|imaginable 'and there was nothing for it|but to fight terrible war!' 'Eventually, after their galaxy|had been decimated 'over a few thousand years,|it was realised 'the whole thing|had been a ghastly mistake. 'So the two opposing battle fleets|settled their differences 'in order to launch|a joint attack on our galaxy, 'now positively identified as|the source of the offending remark. 'For thousands more years,|the mighty ships 'tore across the empty wastes|of space 'and finally dived,|streaming onto the planet Earth 'where, due to a terrible|miscalculation of scale, 'the entire battle fleet was|accidently swallowed by a small dog. 'Those who study the interplay|of cause and effect 'in the history of the Universe|say this goes on all the time, 'but that they are powerless|to prevent it. 'Meanwhile,|Arthur is about to be confronted 'with the terrible reality|of all he has learnt.' Arthur, you're safe! Am I? Oh, good. - Hi. Come in. Food.|- What happened to you? Well, our hosts here|have been gassing us and zapping our minds|and being weird, and are now giving us this amazingly|keen meal to make it up to us. Have some Vegan rhino cutlet!|It's exit! Hosts? I don't see any hosts! Ugh! There are mice on the table! Yes... sorry.|I... wasn't quite prepared for... Let me introduce you. - This is Benjy mouse.|- Hi, there! - And this is... Frankie mouse.|- Pleased to meet you! - Aren't they...|- The mice I brought from Earth. Well... Try some grated Arcturan megadonkey. Ahem! Excuse me! Yes, Slartibartfast, you may go! What? Oh, very well, I'll go and get on|with some of my fjords, then. They won't be necessary. I don't think we'll be needing|the new Earth. What?! I've got a thousand glaciers poised|and ready to roll over Africa! Thank you, Slartibartfast,|that will be all! Yes, sir. Thank you very much. Well... ...goodbye, Earthman. Sorry about your planet.|Hope the lifestyle comes together! - Now to business!|- Oh, yeah. To business! - To business!|- I beg your pardon?! I'm sorry, I thought|you were proposing a toast! Earth creature, we've been running|your planet for 10 million years in order to find|the Ultimate Question. As we were about to see the fruit|of millions of years of work, you let your planet get blown up! - The best-laid plans of mice.|- And men. - What?|- Best-laid plans of mice and men. What have men got to do with it? We've got to have that Question! I'm sorry I can't help you.|Shall we be off? Get this, you are a last generation|product of that computer matrix. You were there|before your planet got the finger. Your brain was a part|of the configuration of the program. Of the whatty? - Drink?|- I will. The mice seem to think the Question|might be buried in your brain. - Is that what they think?|- Yes. They wanna buy it. - What, the Question?|- No, no, your brain! - What?|- What? What? - That's all right. Who'd miss it?|- Thank you! I thought you said you could read|his brain electronically. Yes, but we'd have|to get it out first. - It's got to be prepared, diced.|- Thank you! It could be replaced|if it's important. Yes, an electronic brain. - A simple one should suffice.|- Simple? Program it to say "What?" and "Where's|the tea?" Who'd know the difference? - What?|- See? - I'd notice!|- You'd be programmed not to! Let's get out! - Sorry, mice, old mates, no deal.|- Let's not be hasty...! {y:i}Emergency! Hostile|{y:i}alien police in Section 8A! {y:i}- Defence stations...!|- Galactic police! Hell and bats' dos,|we gotta go whoosh! - Creatures, where are you going?|- Out, out, out! But the Question!|Think of the issues at stake! - Which way?|- Any way! - This way!|- Don't you understand? Don't you understand how much money|we can make appearing on chat shows? All this fuss|about an Earthling brain! - Let's go, let's go!|- Where are we gonna go?! Over there! Which way? - At a wild guess, I'd say...|- This way. Yeah. OK, Beeblebrox, hold it right there,|we got you covered! - Cops!|- Anyone else want a guess? Yeah... this way! We don't wanna shoot you, Beeblebrox. Suits me fine! - Back to the lift?|- Back to the lift! Hey, I thought they said|they didn't want to shoot at us! - I thought so!|- You said you didn't wanna shoot us! It isn't easy being a cop! - What did he say?|- It isn't easy being a cop. - That's his problem!|- I think so! Listen, we've enough problems of our|own having you there shooting at us! If you'd like to avoid laying|your personal problems on us, I think we'd all find it|easier to cope! Now, look, buddy, you're not dealing with any dumb,|two-bit, trigger-pumping morons with low hairlines, little|piggy eyes and no conversation! We're a couple of caring,|intelligent guys you'd probably really like|if you met us socially. I don't go around gratuitously|shooting people and then brag about it|in seedy space rangers bars. I go around|gratuitously shooting people, then I agonise about it afterwards|to my girlfriend! - And I write novels!|- Yeah, he writes them in crayon. Though I haven't had|any published yet so I'd better warn ya,|I'm in a mean mood! - Who are these guys?|- I preferred them shooting. So are you gonna come quietly|or you gonna let us blast ya out? Which would you prefer? You still there? Yeah! We didn't enjoy that at all. - We could tell!|- Now, listen to this, Beeblebrox. - And you'd better listen good!|- Why? Er... because it's gonna be|very intelligent and quite interesting... and humane. OK, shoot. I mean, fire away! No, no, I mean...! Sorry, misunderstanding there. Beeblebrox, either you all|give yourselves up and let us beat you up a little, though not too much because we are|firmly opposed to needless violence, or... er... or we blow up|this entire planet! And one or two others|we noticed on the way over! That's crazy! You wouldn't do that! Yes, we would! - I think we would, wouldn't we?|- Yes, we'd have to. No question. - But why?|- Tell her. - You tell her!|- You tell her! - You tell her!|- You tell her! Will one of you tell her! It isn't easy being a cop! (Listen... if we keep them talking,|maybe their brains will seize up.) Shall we... shoot them up again|for a while? - Why not?|- Yeah. Wait... Well, that just about wraps it up|for this lifetime, I guess. Well... it's really been nice|running into you again, Zaphod. # Zaglabor astragard # Hootrimansion Bambriar... # - What the hell are you doing?!|- A Betelgeuse death anthem. It means, "After this,|things can only get better." # Zaglabor astragard! # Hootrimansion Bambriar... # Ripped with SubRip 1.14 and Verified by CdinT|(Cristi_Polacsek@SoftHome.net) I deliver perfection...|and don't brag about it! :D |
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