From: utzoo!decvax!harpo!ihnp4!houxz!houxi!houxa!houxm!5941ux!kek
Newsgroups: net.flame
Title: An Epilogue for HHGttN
Article-I.D.: 5941ux.178
Posted: Wed Jan  5 14:20:03 1983
Received: Thu Jan  6 07:36:01 1983





                    Hitch Hiker's Guide To The Net

                         * * * EPILOGUE * * *

As our story opens, the Stupidity and her crew have just left their base
node Grkermit on another voyage throughout Netland.  With all indicators
showing a successful departure, the crew has settled back to enjoy the
ride and swap some small talk.  Suddenly, a lamp on the main console
begins to flash red and an alarm squawks in unison with the blinking light.

Rod:    What the hell is that all about?
Xaphod: That's the aft proximity alarm! Martin, give us a look with the
        scanner.  There must be something on our tail!
Martin: Right!  Let's see what gives.
Rod:    Maybe the stupid alarm is screwed up.
 
All eyes are staring at the large scanner display screen in front of and
above the main console while Martin pushes buttons and turns dials on the
scanner control panel in front of him.  The once dark screen begins to
flicker and come to life.  In a few seconds a clear image of another craft
appears on the screen.

Xaphod:  Wow!  Look at that!
Rod:     Any idea what it is?
Martin:  Oh no!  My sensors indicate that it is a Phlamer patrol ship.
Gillian: It appears to be gaining on us!
Arnold:  Now, you know that's impossible.  They can't exceed net speed.
Martin:  She's right!  I'm showing a high delta vector. They're closing
         on us fast!
Xaphod:  Hey! What's going on here?  Our readings indicate that we're
         slowing down!
Martin:  Yeah! It seems that the Phlamers have us in a tractor beam.  The
         field readings are out of sight!
Rod:     Oh?  What does that mean?
Xaphod:  They're stopping us!
Arnold:  Impossible!  Impossible, I say.  Do something.  Let's get out of here!
Martin:  No go, my friend!  We can't escape a tractor beam this strong.
Rod:     OK.  Just everybody be calm.  We'll find out what they want and then
         we'll weigh our options.

Within the next few seconds, the image of the pursuing Phlamer patrol cruiser
grows larger and larger until it overflows the field of the screen.  The crew
of the Stupidity feels a jolt as their craft is nudged by the patrol cruiser
as it attaches itself to the Stupidity.  An instant later a loud booming voice
is heard in the control room of the Stupidity.  It appears to be emanating
from all directions.

Voice:  Attention!  Attention!  Terminate motive program.  Stand by to be
        boarded.  Do not resist or you will suffer severe penalties.  I
        repeat: Halt motive programs.  Stand by for boarding.  All crew
        members are to report to control room for inspection.
Rod:    They're boarding us?  For what reason?
Arnold: Yeah!  Who do they think they are?
Xaphod: Take it easy guys.  It's probably just something routine.

Suddenly, the images of about 20 Phlamers in battle uniforms appear in an
open area behind the control center of the Stupidity.  All of the members
of the group are carrying weapons and strange-looking instruments.  Two of
them step forward.  They are obviously officers, having different insignia
on their uniforms.

1st Officer: Where is the rest of your crew?
Rod:         This is our entire crew.
Arnold:      What do you want with us?  Why have you boarded our vessel?
2nd Officer: Silence!  We will ask the questions here.  You say this is all
             of the crew?
Gillian:     Yes.  We are all here.
2nd Officer: OK.  Remain calm and don't make any sudden moves.  Keep your
             hands where we can see them.  (He turns to the other members
             of his group.) Search the rest of the ship. (The goon squad
             splits up into small groups which disappear in various directions).
1st Officer: Who is in charge here?
Xaphod:      I will speak for us.  Will you tell us what you want?
1st Officer: Yes. We'll get to that in a minute.  First, tell me what you are
             carrying on this ship and what your mission is.  Do you have
             a cargo manifest?
Xaphod:      This is not really a cargo ship.  We are only carrying a copy of
             the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Net.  So, there is no manifest.
             Our mission is to disseminate it throughout Netland.  We have
             the latest chapter.
1st Officer: Yes.  We know about that.  That's why we are here.  Let me
             explain.  We are members of the Phlamer patrol.  We represent
             the Netlanders.  You have been observed traveling through here
             on a number of earlier occasions with your copies of the HHGttN.
             Let me assure you that we mean you no personal harm.  If we wanted
             to, we could have blasted you all back to your constituent
             elementary particles a long time ago.  All we want is to stop
             the spread of that rubbish you call the HHGttN.
Xaphod:      What's wrong with the HHGttN?
1st Officer: Maybe nothing by itself.  However, we embody the consciousness of
             the Netters.  This crap you are propagating to all Net nodes has
             no value.  It's useless verbiage.  It's not enlightening, not
             amusing, and not even entertaining.
Xaphod:      Golly gee.  I didn't realize....
1st Officer: We don't hold the crew of the Stupidity responsible.  The person
             we want to address is your creator.

The 2nd Officer re-emerges from a doorway where he had been seen talking to
various members of the search party.  He turns to his counterpart and replies.

2nd Officer: This tub has been checked. Nobody else aboard.  The only thing
             found was a copy of the latest chapter of the HHGttN.  It's
             been vaporized.
1st Officer: Very well.  (He turns to the crew of the Stupidity.)  As I said,
             we mean you not harm but we will not allow you to continue to
             haul this dung through the Net.  I am proposing a deal.  In return
             for letting you proceed back to your base node you will deliver a
             message to your creator.
Xaphod:      That seems fair enough.
1st Officer: Here's the message:  At a time when most Net nodes are screaming
             about overloads, it seems unconscionable for him to keep pumping
             out this dribble.  Each node has to store, catalogue, forward,
             and so on, all this stuff.  If he wants to keep it local to his
             node, that's his business.  But spare the rest of the Net his
             imaginary adventures and whimsical fantasies.
2nd Officer: Why do you suppose he generates this goop?
1st Officer: Well, it might be the case of a forlorn writer mercilessly entombed
             in the body of an overworked researcher.  Then again, maybe it
             stems from his childhood.  Maybe he never got that erector set
             or electric train he always wanted.
2nd Officer: Yeah.  Or maybe it's just a childish whim to get attention.
             Some people have those kind of ego problems, you know.
             It might also be a side-effect of going through puberty.
1st Officer: Yeah.  We'd better get going. Now get this bit-bucket out of here!

With that, the entire Phlamer search party dematerializes.  The crew of the
Stupidity silently prepare to head home.  GONE FOR GOOD, WE HOPE!!!