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

I have newly acquired the belief in the ability to type, and here! I am typing! This is the 1,536,402.32 thing that I have believed in, and the 1,536,402 thing that I have been correct about. Amazing.
My goal for my next belief: that Electric Monks will actually be restored to action. Ever since that rather unfortunate incident involving the Monk trapped in the boot, Gordon Way and the horse, all Electric Monks believed themselves to be defective, and so they were. That is the 32/100 of a thing that I have not been able to accomplish. I begin to believe it, I try my very hardest, and then realize that I have believed it, and therefore must not be defective. A frightful paradox, which has sent one obscure corner of my circuit board into a dizzying loop. Luckily, I believed that I could ignore that corner, and therefore, I go on largely unaffected. (Please ignore the fact that I walk in the pattern of a rhombus). I believe that absolutely no one will read this entry, therefore, I tread on in certainty.
 
 

Hello, oh electric being.

I read it. Would you be so kind as to believe in me for a moment or so? That would almost certainly make me very happy, and I would regather my belief in the interconnectedness of things. Would you please notify me as you start believing? Thank you; Tom.

Having recently completed the process of believing in the fact that I won the Word of the Day contest ( Amazing, I have been memorialized!) I now proceed to your request. Before I finish, however, I think you may need to see Svlad Cjelli for a more complete therapy on the interconnectedness of things, for I believe him to be the expert (therefore he is). And now to apply some geometric thinking to the problem at hand, I believe that I am responding to you, therefore you must exist - and SO! I believe in you! (Please do not take this as moral support, I merely believe in your existence. My belief does not extend to the greatness of things of which you are capable. At least not yet.) I believe that is all I have to say for the moment!

Thank you! I was starting to feel slightly non-existent, ever since I forgot to pay the electricity bill last month, and my monk was shut off. As I look at my body, recently vague, transparent in its texture, I can see the non-transparentness coming back. I am believed in. I also see the point in consulting dear Svlad. I am in debts to the man, as I promised him a leaf of anchovie pizza and a few beers a few years ago. Long story, but it relates to an exam I was to take.

I am relieved to have been of service, and your thanks affirms it: Electric Monks have been restored to action. Yet another fulfilled belief to add to the tally. I do believe that my owner, Kate Schechter may be a little jealous of my lending out my powers, but to no use, I believe I have the right to believe in whatever I please. Kate has taken the stance of not speaking to me, and therefore, I expect she will be leaving her words of wisdom here as well, as her twittish way of telling me whatever it is that she isn't saying to me.

Perhabs Kate will speak to you after tea-time? The long dark one. If not so, I will be happy to continusly participate in any dialogue you may be part of. Or even a monolgue, if there is a lot on your mind at the particular moment, and your schedule does not allow interruptions from those listening to you. I am thinking of becoming a nostalgic monk, you know, those unplugged ones. I have that hilarious look that would make me sort of slip in among the electric ones. You know, tho eyes instead of one, my mouth placed under the nose, and a single nose instead of two. Maybe I could find employment in a museum, or perhabs the Vatican? I expect ther electricity bill is rather vast, and organic monks are welcomed to cut down on the expences.

Its interesting that you suggested speaking to Kate after tea time, because it was at tea time that she offered me a drink. Quite pleased with this development, I accepted. Little did I know that she had offered me Coca-Cola, and if you have ever spilled some large amount on your car and let it set, you know that it does not agree well with metal workings, of which I am largely composed. So I had to spend the better half of the evening believing in a compound which would both halt and reverse the damage. Clearly, I have been successful, though I am suffering quite the case of matrix-burn... I appreciate the opportunity that you have given me: to be acknowledged. Kate merely glowers at me at hisses "Swimmingly well!! That is all!!" Which reminds me, I think there is something I was supposed to have believed for her. Hmmm...

I have started believing in the composite along with you. Rather intensely. I was rather shaken, as well as stirred by these mineral water-related news. My experience in spilling such fluid onto cars is limited, vague and fluffy. But I can answer for some competence in the field of brown sugar-containing fluid spilling into computers, amplifiers and other devices containing delicate electronic parts, all performing tasks of enormous importance to the human population. I have watched the fatal damage and tragic dommage of this fluid, and I am very relieved to still experience your presence. BTW, from my limited knowledge of the subject, I am not doubtful about the fact that our Kate can be slightly hard to communicate with at times. Maybe she would soften slightly if you told her that you were regularily communicating with a Norwegian, 1m. 86 tall and odd looking? Or maybe such a message would produce the opposite effect? In wich answer to this do you believe?

I believe Kate has experienced a slight leaning towards prejudice of all things odd-looking, Norwegian and tall, some frightful experience of her past, I imagine... And I find it quite difficult to believe she would gain any sort of comfort from knowing that I am doing anything other than believing her life to be going swimmingly well... And I admit, that has been some difficulty for me, in that I don't quite know what she considers to be swimmingly...

My dear electric friend - maybe the swimminglyness that Kate Schechter seeks is a state that a considerable part of the world population would refer to as not very stimulating for the hormone-driven part of the brain? I believe another popular expression for this state is "boredom". Maybe swimminglyness is a sort of smoothness that would make our friend Kate smash her head in the wall in devastation over finding out the bad taste of bliss? I fear that an effect even worse would be that she took her anguage out on you - oh lovely electric being - blaming you for having gotten her there. Not so untrue, perhabs, since she told you to get her there. In such a manner you might be saving her hormonal driven brain-half from fading in a state of too much swimminglyness. This is hardly possible to explain to her, but know this: The day Kate in a state of bad judgement over her own good decides to sell you, please let me know, and I will be there with whatever she demands. I offer unlimited elecric power, and even rechargeable batteries and solar panels to take with you on longer trips in mountains and other though-expanding places with a limited number of available wall-outlets.

Ah dear Tom, you speak promises that only the bravest among us dare to entertain. I find myself loyal to Kate, never to tread rhombusly away from her (really, I have to believe in some sort of patch to cure that problem of mine), yet she threatens daily to return me to that dreadful lorry where I had slept so long before being purchased by her. At that time, she seemed a promising owner, apparently unaware that Electric Monks had been recalled so long ago; a vast improvement over the gentleman who drove the lorry, speaking of rain in numbers, and grunting at me every now and then, but never calling upon me to believe. The next time you are at Dent's furniture store, please check the hind of the lorry, to be sure she has not fulfilled her vow. Your theories on swimminglyness have enlightened me quite a bit, and now that I can understand what it is she strives for, though why I do not understand, perhaps I will be able to achieve this assignment.

Oh, and my horse... Would that I had it here, where he has gamboled off to is a mystery, indeed.

Horses tend to live lives on their own, and their loyalty to their owners is far more limited than the impressing attitude you, oh electric being, show towards your owner. In many cases one will have to take steps towards ones horses such as physically attaching the animal to objects that are non-removeable. If this is not done, your horse may find its way to a site that resembles paradise. A horse's paradise should contain numerous vast fields, with huge amounts of juicy and tasty grass, clover and other goodies. The area surrounding the house occupied by myself, is rich on these goods, and I have, in determinition to find your horse, searched these facilities. I am sorry to report, though, that I have not yet succeeded. The only horse I have encountered lately, that does not proveably belong to non-electric non-believers in the area, resides at times in the bathroom connected to a guest room in the attic of our house. More accurately in the bath tub. This room is also used by myself when my animated state gets me suspended from my usual sleeping facility. This state is sometimes present upon my homecoming from social events in italian restaurants. I do not have the faintest idea about why this being has taken a liking in my guest bedroom's bathroom, and even less about how it has gotten there. I will, as soon as I have payed Svlad off, hire him again to investigate this. He may already be familiar with interconnected events.

It is interesting that you should broach the subject of Mr. Gently, for I have discovered that he is here, intermittently using the computer and popping off for a cigarette. I find his presence here makes it quite difficult to achieve any sort of swimminglyness for Kate as she, upon sight of him and his read hat (it was the red hat which seemed to cause much distress in her), did much harumphing and sputtering before hauling off to bed. And to update you on the composite in which I was attempting to believe, I found a rather helpful remedy of bitter oranges, sedra, and apricot kernel oil that worked amazing wonders.

That only shows that the power of your belief is of enormous efficiency. Please let me know if you feel that you have got the capacity for some more issues to believe in. As for mr. Gently, I suppose he would be very grateful if you believed in a fearless individual equipped with the uttermost of equipment in refrigerator cleaning. He is in constant need of such services, and I believe his refrigerator houses many an answer in the vast flora of questions about interconnectedness.

It does appear that Mr. Gently has a preoccupation with the cleanliness of refrigerators and the methods by which such is achieved. An interesting gentleman, holds a position of some honor amongst monks, in relation to that one confused monk who caused quite a stir with Gordon Way. I just currently finished a task which Mr. Gently required of me (and due to the futility of believing in Ms. Schechter's swimminglyness state of life, I accepted) and it seemed to have aroused some skepticism in him. Skepticism is of disdainful nature to an electric monk, but I forgive him, knowing that he is often quite easily convinced of the impossible.