“Hey, will you get this, Earthman,” interrupted Zaphod. “You are a last generation product of that computer matrix, right, and you were there right up to the moment your planet got the finger, yeah?”
“Er…”
“So your brain was an organic part of the penultimate configuration of the computer program,” said Ford, rather lucidly he thought.
“Right?” said Zaphod.
“Well,” said Arthur doubtfully. He wasn’t aware of ever having felt an organic part of anything. He had always seen this as one of his problems.
“In other words,” said Benjy, steering his curious little vehicle right over to Arthur, “there’s a good chance that the structure of the question is encoded in the structure of your brain—so we want to buy it off you.”
“What, the question?” said Arthur.
“Yes,” said Ford and Trillian.
“For lots of money,” said Zaphod.
“No, no,” said Frankie, “it’s the brain we want to buy.”
“What!”
“Well, who would miss it?” inquired Benjy.
“I thought you said you could just read his brain electronically,” protested Ford.
“Oh yes,” said Frankie, “but we’d have to get it out first. It’s got to be prepared.”
“Treated,” said Benjy.
“Diced.”
“Thank you,” shouted Arthur, tipping up his chair and backing away from the table in horror.
“It could always be replaced,” said Benjy reasonably, “if you think it’s important.”
“Yes, an electronic brain,” said Frankie, “a simple one would suffice.”
“A simple one!” wailed Arthur.
“Yeah,” said Zaphod with a sudden evil grin, “you’d just have to program it to say What? and I don’t understand and Where’s the tea? Who’d know the difference?”
“What?” cried Arthur, backing away still farther.
“See what I mean?” said Zaphod, and howled with pain because of something that Trillian did at that moment.
“I’d notice the difference,” said Arthur.
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Frankie mouse, “you’d be programmed not to.”
Ford made for the door.
