h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

{--CONTINUITY--}

[And so, the portal to the sleek starship--the Heart of Gold--beckoned to the slight gentleman with the impossibly broad grin, and he turned to the waiting ramp, anticipating even greater adventures. The wind picked up, wafted his dun-colored trench coat open and ruffled his gray hair. He reached into his battered leather satchel, pulled out a pair of dark shades, put them on, and walked resolutely into the interior of the ship. The hatch slid closed with what seemed an inhalation of breath. There was a moment of stillness, then the ship simultaneously folded in on itself and flung itself in a myriad of different directions at once.]

{--END CONTINUITY--}

{--FADE OUT / FADE IN--}

"This can't be right..." B4 taps the gauge in the upper right of the status board, resets a toggle switch, then taps the gauge again. “Dang it! There’s ~no way~ I could’ve ended up here…wherever ~here~ is…”

He mulls about at the console for a few moments before picking up his handheld electronic device specially for unplanned phenomena. Clutching the HEDUP in his left hand, he slings his satchel over his left shoulder. The ship is still quietly humming to itself after the convoluted trek through subspace, and displays are winking to one another. The interior lights dim and resurge, as if in labored breathing, another sign the trip has taken its toll. A cleaning bot surreptitiously rolls out from behind a bulkhead panel, zooms around the room looking for something to tidy up, passes beneath B4’s upraised foot (he didn’t want to step on the tiny machine), and—having found nothing upon which to perform its prescribed duties—caroms back into its hiding spot.

“Curiouser!” B4 finishes his first step toward the exit portal. “Well, if I’m someplace interesting, I ought to at least avail myself of a look about…” He pulls and turns the release lever for the gangway, allowing it to accordion outward before following it. With only slight trepidation, he instinctively ducks as he steps down and out through the portal.

{--LONG PAN SHOT--}

His ship, The Heart of Gold, sits amidst a completely blank white field. That is to say, the surroundings—ground, sky, any and all extrusions—are a perfect blank white color, top to bottom, fore to rear, right to left. There is no detail to break up the monotony, nothing for the eye to focus upon.

“Holy Milchkuh! This is…different. Can’t tell where any of this begins or ends… It’s as if there’s absolutely nothing here.”

Except the small signpost several dozen paces away from the low end of the gangplank.

“Hmm… When did that--?” He doesn’t take time to ponder the anomaly or the timing of its appearance. He walks toward it and bends at the waist to read the placard. The script has been painted on, evidently some while ago.

WELCOME
To the First
(and Only)
Time Traveller’s
Convention

B4 rocks back on his heels and looks around. “What the—? Convention? There’s nothing here!”

The sign has changed. The lettering is completely different (still the same style of writing, but the words have changed), though still appearing to have been hand-painted long ago and left to weather. This time, the words read:

Any moment now
Wait for it
Wait for it

“What the—?” B4 blinks and the message has transformed yet again.

The Atrium

“But there’s nothi—” began B4, only to realize he was incorrect.

He suddenly stood in a massive atrium in the center of a huge convention center. The space was large enough to accommodate The Heart of Gold, himself, the strange changeable sign, and hundreds of thousands more of each of them—the need arose to house so many things. The middle of the atrium was dominated by a gigantic sculpture of cogs and gears and large spear-like rods. There were numerals and hieroglyphic symbols, as well as glowing squiggles, floating and moving in odd orbits around the structure. B4 wasn’t sure if it was a waterfall feature, yet something akin to a liquid light flowed along multiple channels upward, over, down, around, and through the sculpture. All around this thing that resembled an orrery lay an expansive greensward. Trees of various types and sizes stood all around the central square, stationed in almost-discernable patterns, leaving ample walkways for foot traffic both to and from the moving statue. The air was comfortable and a light breeze wafted the scents of myriad flowers, and carried an undercurrent of tree bark, from all the vegetation growing there.

Glancing back at the sign, B4 noted its wording had shifted again.

Look around
Lagniappe
Libations
Laughter

A tumult of conversations suddenly sprang into being. There indeed ~was~ laughter from many locations around the open field. People of many different races or planets or timelines milled about in eddying currents. Every one of them had something to say, to impart, to question, to ponder, to share. There seemed no end to the bustle of groups forming and reforming, joining and splintering off to find yet another. Concession stands were stationed strategically around the whole area, and each was a nexus for the clusters of conversation. Robotic vendors produced all manner of familiar and foreign epicurean delights, doling them out to those who requested a nosh. Unlike most automated systems, the vendors had a tendency to add a wee bit more than expected to every serving. Drinks flowed freely, while imbibers wandered the byways toting containers—ranging from simplistic to incredibly elaborate—and it was evident the more they partook, the more freely their dialogues tumbled forth.

Drawn inexorably to a concession by the smell of savory food and the burble of thirst-quenching liquids, B4 managed a transaction that garnered him a bratwurst slathered in spicy brown mustard on a crusty roll, a small tray of fries topped with mayo, and a rich brown porter in a ceramic stein. It was no time at all before his hunger was sated and his thirst was slaked, yet he went back for a second tankard of the dunkel bier to facilitate better banter.

After wandering the mall area for some time, he finally engaged several aliens in what turned into a rather surreal exchange. One was a tall shambling blue carpet with tufts not unlike feathers as its fur; another was a glowing spiral of flowing energy that shifted through the spectrum of visible light, as well as inter-dimensional ionization; a third looked incredibly like a 3-meter tall plucked holiday turkey, though that was merely its manifestation to B4’s senses. One of them had left a large 2-liter mug on the seat of a bench, and its contents swirled in iridescent whorls, perhaps a Pan-Galactic GargleBlaster.

B4: Is this seat taken?
Pluck: It’s part of the décor here. It hasn’t moved since we’ve been present.
B4: No, that’s not what I-- May sit down here?
Helix: Zzzzz-- No regulations against. Do azzzzz you wish.
B4: [seated] Say, Gents, where is this place exactly? My ship’s instruments didn’t register properly when I landed.
Shaggy: U mmay haff the rronng idee-uh abowt thiss playsss. Not wayrrr, but wennn.
B4: What?
Pluck: Wrong question again, Looseleaf. Are you here now or is this visit in your past?
B4: What? [he waves him off] I mean…how can I be here in the past?
Helix: Zzzzz-- We should discontinue converzzzing with him. There’zzz no future in it.
Shaggy: Thenn he woo-dennt be heerrr to dissrrrupt usss.
Pluck: Yeah, that makes sense. If he didn’t visit then, he wouldn’t have been here in the past, either.
B4: Huh?
Helix: Zzzzz-- Doezz not compute. Rephrazzze.
B4: Look, never mind. Let it go. Could you at least tell me what you’re doing here?
Pluck: When?
B4: Right now.
Shaggy: Weerrr not doooing annnythinnng nnnow.
B4: Um… How about then? What are you doing…right…then?
Helix: Zzzzz-- Zzeee, now you’re making zzzenzzze!
B4: Who? Me?
Pluck: We’re waiting for our friend Gullumph.
B4: [picks up the mug] If we’re gonna wait for him, I’m just gonna quench my thirst. [he tips it back and chugs]
Helix: Zzzzz--- Thizz may take longer than exxxpected.
B4: Why?
Shaggy: Heesss beennn drrrunk.
B4: Is he a lush or something?
Helix: Zzzzz--- Hee’zzz actually a teetotaler. Doezzn’t touch alcohol.
B4: Then how can he get drunk?
Pluck: That was him in the mug. We were waiting for him to climb out and chat.
B4: [heaving, on his knees]
Shaggy: Donnnt hurrrt himmm! Weee cannn wayt forrr himmm tooo passs…
B4: [snaps a crazed look at the blue carpet thing] Wuurrr-pphh…?
Helix: Zzzzz-- Well put, human. You show great dizzzernment.
B4: [passes out]
Shaggy: Shuud weee helllp himmm?
Helix: Zzzzz-- Hee’zzz fine.
Pluck: Yeah, he’s just drunk…our friend.

The three aliens continue their conversation, drifting on to other more important matters, many of which included trips to the concessionaires.

{--PAN SHOT OF OTHER RESEARCHERS MILLING ABOUT IN THE CROWDS--}