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… Lemme look at the bill again； … said Ford。 He picked it up and studied it thoughtfully under the malevolent gaze of the barman； and the equally malevolent gaze of the bird； which was currently gouging great furrows in the bar top with its talons。
It was a rather lengthy piece of paper。
At the bottom of it was a number which looked like one of those serial numbers you find on the underside of stereo sets which always takes so long to copy on to the registration form。 He had； after all； been in the bar all day； he had been drinking a lot of stuff with bubbles in it； and he had bought an awful lot of rounds for all the pimps； thugs and record executives who suddenly couldn't remember who he was。
He cleared his throat rather quietly and patted his pockets。 There was； as he knew； nothing in them。 He rested his left hand lightly but firmly on the half…opened flap of his satchel。 The disembodied hand renewed its pressure on his right shoulder。
… You see； … said the barman； and his face seemed to wobble evilly in front of Ford's； … I have a reputation to think of。 You see that； don't you？
This is it； thought Ford。 There was nothing else for it。 He had obeyed the rules； he had made a bona fide attempt to pay his bill； it had been rejected。 He was now in danger of his life。
… Well； … he said quietly； … if it's your reputation。。。
With a sudden flash of speed he opened his satchel and slapped down on the bar top his copy of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy and the official card which said that he was a field researcher for the Guide and absolutely not allowed to do what he was now doing。
… Want a write…up？
The barman's face stopped in mid…wobble。 The bird's talons stopped in mid…furrow。 The hand slowly released its grip。
… That； … said the barman in a barely audible whisper； from between dry lips； … will do nicely； sir。
Chapter 5
The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy is a powerful organ。 Indeed； its influence is so prodigious that strict rules have had to be drawn up by its editorial staff to prevent its misuse。 So none of its field researchers are allowed to accept any kind of services； discounts or preferential treatment of any kind in return for editorial favours unless：
a） they have made a bona fide attempt to pay for a service in the normal way；
b） their lives would be otherwise in danger；
c） they really want to。
Since invoking the third rule always involved giving the editor a cut； Ford always preferred to much about with the first two。
He stepped out along the street； walking briskly。
The air was stifling； but he liked it because it was stifling city air； full of excitingly unpleasant smells； dangerous music and the sound of warring police tribes。
He carried his satchel with an easy swaying motion so that he could get a good swing at anybody who tried to take it from him without asking。 It contained everything he owned； which at the moment wasn't much。
A limousine careered down the street； dodging between the piles of burning garbage； and frightening an old pack animal which lurched； screeching； out of its way； stumbled against the window of a herbal remedies shop； set off a wailing alarm； blundered off down the street； and then pretended to fall down the steps of a small pasta restaurant where it knew it would get photographed and fed。
Ford was walking north。 He thought he was probably on his way to the spaceport； but he had thought that before。 He knew he was going through that part of the city where people's plans often changed quite abruptly。
… Do you want to have a good time？ … said a voice from a doorway。
… As far as I can tell； … said Ford； … I'm having one。 Thanks。
… Are you rich？ … said another。
This made Ford laugh。
He turned and opened his arms in a wide gesture。
… Do I look rich？ … he said。
… Don't know； … said the girl。 … Maybe； maybe not。 Maybe you'll get rich。 I have a very special service for rich people。。。
… Oh yes？ … said Ford； intrigued but careful。 … And what's that？
… I tell them it's OK to be rich。
Gunfire erupted from a window high above them； but it was only a bass player getting shot for playing the wrong riff three times in a row； and bass players are two a penny in Han Dold City。
Ford stopped and peered into the dark doorway。
… You what？ … he said。
The girl laughed and stepped forward a little out of the shadow。 She was tall； and had that kind of self…possessed shyness which is a great trick if you can do it。
… It's my big number； … she said。 … I have a Master's degree in Social Economics and can be very convincing。 People love it。 Especially in this city。
… Goosnargh； … said Ford Prefect； which was a special Betelgeusian word he used when he knew he should say something but didn't know what it should be。
He sat on a step； took from his satchel a bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit and a towel。 He opened the bottle and wiped the top of it with the towel； which had the opposite effect to the one intended； in that the Ol' Janx Spirit instantly killed off millions of the germs which had been slowly building up quite a plex and enlightened civilization on the smellier patches of the towel。
… Want some？ … he said； after he'd had a swig himself。
She shrugged and took the proffered bottle。
They sat for a while； peacefully listening to the clamour of burglar alarms in the next block。
… As it happens； I'm owed a lot of money； … said Ford； … so if I ever get hold of it； can I e and see you then maybe？
… Sure； I'll be here； … said the girl。 … So how much is a lot？
… Fifteen years' back pay。
… For？
… Writing two words。
… Zarquon； … said the girl。 … Which one took the time？
… The first one。 Once I'd got that the second one just came one afternoon after lunch。
A huge electronic drum kit hurtled through the window high above them and smashed itself to bits in the street in front of them。
It soon became apparent that some of the burglar alarms on the next block had been deliberately set off by one police tribe in order to lay an ambush for the other。 Cars with screaming sirens converged on the area； only to find themselves being picked off by copters which came thudding through the air between the city's mountainous tower blocks。
… In fact； … said Ford； having to shout now above the din； … it wasn't quite like that。 I wrote an awful lot； but they just cut it down。
He took his copy of the Guide back out of his satchel。
… Then the planet got demolished； … he shouted。 … Really worthwhile job； eh？ They've still got to pay me； though。
… You work for that thing？ … the girl yelled back。
… Yeah。
… Good number。
… You want to see the stuff I wrote？ … he shouted。 … Before it gets erased？ The new revisions are due to be released tonight over the net。 Someone must have found out that the planet I spent fifteen years on has been demolished by now。 They missed it on the last few revisions； but it can't escape their notice for ever。
… It's getting impossible to talk isn't it？
… What？
She shrugged and pointed upwards。