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

"Is nothing real around here?" Ford asked the security officer escorting him by the elbow.
"Yah, sure buddy. This here door, this is about as real as it gets," the guard said in a heavy New York accent. Mr Lucas had employed New Yorkers as security on the grounds that they were the most ill tempered lot he could find; he of course didn't know about Vogons.
Five seconds later Ford was flying. This was not because he had forgotten to miss the ground after falling, but more because of being bodily hurled out the very real door. Six seconds later he had landed on the extremely real ground, with the beginings of an even more real lump on his head.

Ford didn't think things could get any more weird, that is until he became aware of the person who was know helping him up from the pavement...

"Sir," said the man, "My name is Lieutenant Gilks, and I am about to arrest you for trespassing. Before I do though, I have a question for you. From what little information I have been able to gather, this whole affair stinks of a certain Dirk Gently, are you in ANY way associated with him? I must warn you, if you say yes, your punishment shall be far more severe."

" I may or then again I may not know what your talking about, that depends on you explaining the strange manner of your style of uniform, anyway Dirk is just this guy you know"

Chapter 4:

In the center of the Galaxy there is a building.
Inside that building there is another building, painted in polka dots and stripes, and covered in an S.E.P. field.
Inside of that building there is a large room.
Inside that room there is a smaller, more comfortable room.
Inside that room, which is of course surrounded by multiple improbability fields, anti-listening detectors, detectors for detectors for anti-listening detectors, and several battalions of anti-personnel robots, there is a table.
Around this table sits a group of people.
This group is discussing matters which would have made them all candidates for the Total Perspective Vortex under normal circumstances, but these circumstances were far from ordinary.
If one were to enter this room, provided you had of course talked your way through all the defense systems, or were incredibly adept at secrecy; one would see a group of five figures convened around the table, which is the only decoration apart from the chairs.
Facing you would be the figure of a wizened old man, so old in fact one had the impression one could see right through him, so old that it was only about half the time that both of his heads were awake at the same time.
To his left is a smartly dressed man with a large briefcase in front of him, his name is Zarniwoop, and we shall meet him at a later date. Next to him is Zarniwoop’s right hand man, his trusted assistant; we shall meet him in an office building which breaks the speed record for any office building before or since.
On the other side of the wizened old man sits the president of the Galaxy, Yooden Vranx, whose mere presence at this meeting would secure him a place out on the street, with nothing but a secretarial staff, a fleet of ships, and a slit throat.
Opposite the old man, with his back to us, is a figure whose identity can safely be made the subject of suspense, since he will not survive long after this meeting is concluded. He will lock himself into a room far from here, yet oppositely defended. He will, there in the unspeakable room, perform an unspeakable act on his equally unspeakable brains; thereby effectively killing the person he is in order to become the person he must become.
These men gather to make plans for a dark purpose. These men wish to meet the man who rules the Universe.

After four years stuck on earth and having gone through a series of improbable events, Ford now found himself taking a walk through Central Park in New York, the intentions of the two men following ten yards behind him should be of great concern to Ford, but at that moment he mind was preocupied with another problem to have noticed them.

The problem was quite simply one of recognition.
Ford, as a seasoned traveler, assumed he could always tell an alien on any planet, because they didn't fit in with the natives. Normally the inhabitents of any planet, given enough time and evolution, will generally look the same, smell the same; and even in extreme cases, be the same gender. New York fit none of these.
The steamer he had stowed away on docked right in the heart of the city, and he had taken no more than five paces onto the dock before he saw someone he was sure was alien, just like that.
"Alright," he thought to himself, "I think I'm going to like it here."
Ford watched the man for a minute, heard him stating the very obvious about the weather, air quality and any number of other trivialities, and decided he was definitely not an alien, just like that.
This happened several more times before lunch. One moment Ford was absolutely certain he was talking to an alien, the next they had proven themselves to be quite definitely Human.
He was also amazed at the way a few would insult everybody they saw, which was not out of the ordinary; yet the targets of the insults went about their buisness as though they didn't understand, which was. They of course didn't have Bablefish and realy didn't understand, yet Ford did, but still didn't.
"Oh well, life's what you make of it," Ford said, and set off to make something of this place.
He passed the time playing his new game of spot the alien as he walked, so far he was 0 for 5.

If Ford had glaced behind him the score would have been 2 for 7, but then again it may have not have been obvious to him, the scales on the hands might have been a hint, but he had seen stranger sights than that already.

"Hey, buddy," one of the two said, Ford continued walking.
He had heard the man speak, but was too caught up in his own thoughts to tell if it was aimed at him. He slowly unzipped his satchel just in case.
"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," came the voice again. This time there could be no question; he was definitely being adressed. His hand slipped into the satchel as he turned around.
"Um, do you mean me?" Ford asked
"Yah, we don't like the look of you," said the other one.
Ford looked the two over, "Well, you're not exactly easy on the eyes yourselves."
The three stood on the edge of the park in silence for a moment, untill Ford judged it was time something happened.
"KILL!" he shouted, and hurled his towl at the larger of the two. The reaction was instant, they froze. This was not because of any special properties of the towel, but more the mere shock of being assaulted by a rather threadbare and extremely dirty towel.
This allowed Ford the spare few seconds he needed to make a run for it.

As he headed towards the Museum of Art and seemed to have been successfull in his escape, the the full gravity of the situation hit and he stopped dead in his tracks, HE HAD LOST HIS TOWEL

"Zarking Farquad! Whaere am I supposed to get another one? especially this late at night?"
Ford walked dejectedly about for awhile, a speck among the mountains of buildings. Even late at night the city was far from empty. If he looked left he was treated to the sight of a bunch of very scruffy looking individuals fighting over a bottle, next to a fire in a garbage can.
He kept walking until two thing happened back to back.
The first was the wallet.
He made his way towards the theater district, all lit up with neon signs displaying the selected actors or actresses performing that night. He was looking at one of these when his foot made contact with something small and heavy, upon closer examination he found it to be a wallet; he had learned the term from Mavis. Stuffed in this wallet were small green peices of paper with a picture of an old, balding man on the front, "Benjamin Franklin" printed under his picture. He did not immediately equate this with money, because the only bills he had seen on this planet were English; thereby multi-coloured with a bust of an old, sagging woman on them.
Ford puzzled over this for a while longer, walking all the time, until he realized he was bathed in pink neon.
That was when ford made his second discovery, Paradise.
It is interesting to note that in all civilizations that still have them, pink neon is the universal color for "girls, girls, girls", as well as all the debauchary that implies.

Meanwhile, back in London:

Ring ring, ring ring, ring ring, ri..."Hello?"
"Mavis?"
"Yes"
"Dirk Gently here, I'm calling from, oh, it doesn't matter. I was just wondering how our friend Mr. Prefect is doing."
"Don't mention him, the great ingrate. I spend all my time getting him out of the most improbable situations, and I get insults and ingratitude. You can keep your money Dirk, although I shall be billing you for my quite expensive time."
"My dear lady, surely things are not all that bad. If you could just bring him to the phone...”
"I finally had to bail him out of jail, for breaking into a movie set! I put 'im on a steamer and riddens to ‘im!" Mavis said, her cockney heritage showing through.
"You put, put him on a STEAMER? Bound for where?"
"Don't know, don't rightly care. Got 'im the 'ell out of the country."
"My dear, you may have irreparably damaged...if you understood his place in the fundamental interconnectedness...oh, forget it."

Click

The club was full of humanoid females which pleased Ford, what didn't please Ford was the two men he had just escaped sitting at a table with surrounded by a gaggle of girls who seemed pleased they where buying lots of drinks.

As it happened they where in fact a couple of impoverished hitch-hikers from the Barnards Star sector who like Ford had got stuck on this grummy planet. On the face of it the looked humanoid, but had certain anatomical differences that had worked to there advantage in these situations. They where also collectors and they where now celebrating a very fine addition to their collection of towel artifacts, which much to Fords dismay where now waving above their heads.

Ford was not one for direct violence, but something snapped and...............................

"Excuse me, but I beleive that belongs to me," Ford said as he brought his arm down on the man's neck. His towel slipped from the offending man's grasp and Ford grabbed it, before doing quite a nice duck and roll across the club.
He heard the sound of a table being knocked over, and Ford ducked beside the stage, tucking his towel back into his satchel as he did. Trying his best to keep an eye on the two men without being distracted by the girl on stage, Ford saw the clubs bouncers closing on the two men.
"But it was him," one of them pointed generally in Fords direction, "he stole my towel."
"Sure buddy, someone stole your blankie, I think we got one out back." said one bouncer.
"You guys come with us," said another, bigger bouncer, "we'll find you both blankies."
There then insued a short but violent struggle where the six bouncers inflicted their opinions upon the two stangers.
Ford watched the scene with increasing pleasure, measured proportionally with the decreasing of garments from the woman on stage in front of him.

Ford settled himself at a table to watch the show, this was purely in the context of being an observer for an article he was writing for the Guide about "Galactic Cultural Methods of Hormonal Stimulation and it's effects on various life forms" he had done extensive research on this topic and had even particapated in numerous experiments to confirm his findings, Ford felt sure that the now almost naked dancer would be interested in his theories.

Ford leant over to the next table and nicked a drink from under the nose of its owner, who was obviously concentrating on his own theories of hormonal stimulation. He relaxed for what felt like the first time in a month, and basked in the total lack of anyone trying to kill him.

This was the moment he'd been waiting for... the man who was clad entirely in black clothes rushed forwards and put a sack over Ford's head. His two associated dashed to the table to restrain Ford, one producing a small club, with which he ever so delicately tapped upon Ford's head, rendering him unconscious. As ever, not a single person noticed, which in this case was less to do with an SEP field, and more to do with the constantly undressing ladies on the stage.

The three black clad men dragged the sack containing Ford outside the bar, and bundled it into the back of a dark blue van, before they closed the doors and it sped away.

"Hey baby, wanna have a good time?" Said a husky voice in his ear.
"As far as I know I'm having one," replied Ford, whose attention refused to be diverted from the mostly unclothed female in front of him.
"Do you have any money?" asked the far more clothed woman beside him.
"I dunno, honestly I havn't looked."
It was at that point that the song ended, and the nicely unclothed female began to gather her garments up.
"Hey, I was enjoying that." Ford said
"Well, for a bit of cash you can have me all to yourself," said the woman on stage.
"And for a bit more you can have both of us," said the woman beside him.
Ford remembered the wallet and pulled it from his satchel.
"Is this worth anything?" Ford asked and showed one of Benjamin Franklin's green pieces of paper.
As the next song started, the woman next to him said,
"That's enough to have both of us for several songs at least."
A rather large and unearthly grin played crossed Ford's face, then decided it liked the look of things and stayed there.
"That will do nicely."

Ford opened his eyes some time later, and encountered only blackness; he had been having a most wonderful time.
Unfortunately his wonderful time didn't include the splitting headache he was developing, which is what must have woken him in the first place. It also included several members of Earths female population, who didn't appear to be in this sack with him.
"Dingo's kidney's, what now? Ford asked of the blackness in general.

(sorry about that, oh daily one. that should set it right)

"So Mr Prefect, we have you here at last, our sources tell us you are not of this world, this is of great interest to our client" from his blackness, Ford was intrigued by the high pitch voice and replied "Any chance of something to drink around here" the sharp kick to the kidneys seemed to help Ford take his mind of his drink issue