The Doctor tells the maitre d', "Reservation for a private room under the name of -" It is unpronounceable.
The maitre d' escorts them to their room and takes their drink orders. The Doctor orders a djinn Anttonyc. Padme orders a gennintonk; Ford a G. N. tawn ick; Arthur and Trillian a gin and tonic each. Zaphod requests volume eight of the wine list.
The maitre d' returns moments later with five glasses. "Where's mine?" asks Zaphod.
"Sir has yet to place his order," says the maitre d', handing Zaphod a thick bound volume.
Zaphod hands it right back. "When I asked for volume eight of the wine list I was placing my order."
They have a pretty good time most of the evening, interviewing the daily specials and laughing at Zaphod's complaints that they are all sneaking off and adding heads on when his backs are turned, to spite him. But then the force-shielded dome opens, and a pall falls over the party.
"The end of the universe," murmurs Trillian.
"The end of our universe," says Arthur.
"And that holism guy's," Ford notes.
"So this is it," says Arthur, raising his glass. They all toast.
"Do you believe in an afterlife where you come from?" Padme asks.
"Not belief, proof," says the Doctor. "When Arthur was chasing the Krikkit robots for Slartibartfast, he met someone who was reincarnated constantly to play the same part in Arthur's life over and over."
"Welcome to the research staff of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, we're initiating a new editorial program whereby we'll be creating entries for the book on galactic hitchhikers who are important, famous, or just underfoot a lot. You're the first to get one of these assignments, and I'm going to draw a name for you out of this hat. ...All right, you get the ape descendant Arthur Dent."
"Oh no, not again."
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