Time And Again: An Adams and Pratchett Crossover FanFic (#SciFriday)

Time and Again

An Adams and Pratchett Crossover Fanfic

The night gurgled like an irritated child, grumpy and close to tears. Low clouds made of cashmere and velvet slid low over the horizon, bringing the storm closer to the lone figure brooding below the rocky outcrop. It was stupid, the figure thought, that there weren't any stars. Or a thousand-watt spotlight, for that matter. How was anyone supposed to see how tragically glum he was in all this darkness? The thought that he wouldn't look nearly so tragic if there really was any light crossed his mind, as everything did, but still, something would have been nice. A marginal glow, perhaps. Or a smolder. Maybe something would begin to smolder soon.

Then again, it rather liked the darkness.

A nuclear flash of lightning burst from the low-hung clouds, painting the figure's rounded metallic frame in bright two-tone globs. It was followed by a diode-splitting shriek of thunder.

"Oh, bother," it grumbled. "There goes all that hard work."

As raindrops began to fall lightly around it, then more heavily, the figure raised its face to stare at the sky with surprise. After 0.0034 milliseconds, it gave up and dropped its head and resumed staring blankly into the darkness, mentally checking "surprise" off its list of useful emotions.

Everything was so dull these days, it thought, what with the lack of people (whom he'd never much cared for), dogs (insufferable), cats (all in all alright), birds, crustaceans, amphibians, bacteria, and life in general (who needs it?). In fact, except for the occasional violent geological upheaval once every few millenia, life was fairly mundane. There were plenty of boring rocks to look at, and the thunderstorms were positively decent, sure, but once you've lived thirty-seven times the length of the universe, it was hard to find a hobby that could hold your attention.

It thought that perhaps it might enjoy beekeeping, if only bees would hurry up and evolve.

Another streak of lightning lit the sky, and then continued to not only light it, but float closer.

The figure watched the light approach with an expression that was close to—but certainly not—surprise. A steady fwah fwah fwah sound became audible as the light flew closer, low beneath the roiling clouds. On the figure's left side, just inside the crotch of its elbow, a dusty, rarely used LED began to pulse feebly. Its hope circuit was activating.

Within minutes, the light became a bulbous metallic craft with wide, fluttering wings that circled the figure slowly before settling down with a cheerful fwah-whee! in a small clearing.

On the underside of the craft, a ramp hatch lowered with a dramatic clunk on the rocky dirt, revealing a brightly glowing square of light, and in the square of light, a dark, distorted shape appeared. The fwah fwah fwah grew louder, matching the brightening pulse of the LED in the figure's elbow.

"Halloo!" the mysterious dark shape called, descending the ramp. It coalesced into a tall, gangly sort of person with long white hair and immensely bushy eyebrows who glanced quickly at the sky before shuffling back into the craft. It reappeared moments later wrapped in a loud yellow raincoat with matching rubber galoshes. Immediately, the hopeful LED went dead.

"Marvin, good buddy," Slartibartfast cried from under the raincoat's hood. "You look surprised to see me."

"I certainly do not," Marvin said. "In fact, I look the opposite."

"What you look," Slartibartfast said, shuffling his feet anxiously, "is terrible."

"Figures..." Marvin said, followed by a long, windy sigh. Slartibartfast waited for him to finish, then decided to pass the time by cracking his knuckles while casting nervous glances at the sky. He was doing a third run over his pinky knuckles when Marvin finished: "...that you would say that."