[CZ]
"Arture!"
"Trillian! Co tady deláš?"
"Jsem reportérka, to prece víš. Ale co tady deláš ty?"
"Je tu párty. Chlebícky zdarma, pití zdarma, devcata, která si chtejí popovídat..."
"Ty tady vidíš nejaká devcata? Mel bys odsud rychle zmizet, než si te nekdo všimne."
"Támhle je spousta devcat, ty s temi cervenými šátky..."
"... a rudými karafiáty? Arture, víš kde vubec jsi?"
"No, dneska je Ten Den, ne? Velká párty... Vidíš? Mám rucník!"
"A župan. Nezdá se ti, že moc nezapadáš?"
Artur usrknul šampanského a pomalu se rozhlédl. Byl obklopen davem obtloustlých mužu v tmavešedých oblecích promísených s nekolika ženami stredního veku ve špatne strižených kostýmcích. Všichni se dívali dopredu na pódium, kde se brýlatý chlapík s fialovou skvrnou na pleši pokoušel narovnat trs mikrofonu. Jen ti, co stáli nejblíž se koukali na nej, Artura Denta. A netvárili se nijak prátelsky.
"No... Všichni vypadají nejak komisne, vid? Cíšníku," zbystril Artur, když periferním videním zachytil mladíka s podnosem. "Chlapce, nebyla by trocha jahod?"
"Izviníte? Ja neponimáju..."
Plešoun na pódiu konecne zvítezil na mikrofony. "Daragíje tavárišci, graždáne Savetskovo Sajúza. S sivódna ja prinal fúnkciu Pervovo predsedátetlja Verchóvnovo saveta SSSR, ..."
"Arture!" ukázala Trillian k okraji sálu. Skupina urostlých mladých mužu, kterým z uší couhali zkroucené dráty, uprene hledela na Artura a pomalu si k nemu razila cestu znudeným davem.
"Ale dnes, je Ten Den! Poprvé... Mám prece rucník, Trillian..."
"Spletl ses o dvanáct let!" Lehce se dotkla levé náušnice: "Volám Srdce ze zlata! Máme tu situaci! Okamžitý nárust nepravdepodobnosti nutný! Jinak Artur zmizí nekde na Sibiri!"
"2 na 2079460347 ku 1 a stále stoupá," ozvalo se odevšad a vlastne odnikud. Plešoun se odmlcel a snažil se z hlavy vypudit myšlenku, že na zlomek vteriny zahlédl kvetinác petúnií párící se se slastne vzdychajícím vorvanem.
"2 na ..." A pak všechno zmizelo.
[EN]
"Arthur!"
"Trillian, what are you doing here?"
"I'm a reporter, you know. But what are you doing here?"
"There's a party. Free sandwiches, free drinks, girls who want to talk..."
"Can you see any girls here? You should quickly disappear from here, before someone notices."
"There is a lot of girls there, those with the red scarfs..."
"... and the red carnations? Arthur, do you know where you're at all?"
"Well, today is The Day, right? Great party ... See, I've got a towel!"
"And the bathrobe. Do you think you're fitting here well?"
Arthur sipped a champagne and slowly looked around. He was surrounded by a crowd of fat men in dark-grey suits blended with several middle-aged women in a badly cut skirt suits. Most of them gazed to the stage at the front of the hall, at a spectacled guy with a purple spot on his bald head fighting trying a bunch of microphones. Only the closest ones stared at him, Arthur Dent. And they didn't look too friendly.
"Well ... They're all a bit stiff, aren't they? Waiter," Arthur switched when his peripheral vision caught a young man with a tray. "May I have some strawberry, buddy?"
"Izvinyite? Ja neponimayu..."
The baldhead on the stage finally won his battle with microphones. "Dorogiye tovarshchi, grazhdane Sovetskogo Soyuza. Sigodna ya prinyal funkciyu Pyervogo predsedatelya Verkhovnogo soveta SSSR ..."
"Arthur!" Trillian pointed to the edge of the hall. There was a group of well-built young men there, twisted wires protruding from their ears. They watched Arthur and slowly made their way through the bored crowd.
"But today is The Day! For the first time ... I've got a towel, Trillian ..."
"You're twelve years wrong!" She touched her left earring, "Trillian calling Heart of Gold! We've got a situation! Immediate increase of unlikelihood's necessary! Or we can lose Arthur anywhere in Siberia!"
"2 to the 2079460347 to 1 and still rising," came a voice both from everywhere and nowhere. Bald guy paused and tried to evict from his head the idea of seeing, just for a split of a second, a pot of petunias mating a blissfully sighing sperm whale.
"2 to the ..." And then everything vanished.
[CZ] Keš je soucástí minisérie. [EN] This cache is part of a miniseries.
[CZ] V keši není tužka. [EN] Bring your own pen.