Dirk Gently - 01 - Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency by Douglas Adams

Author:Douglas Adams
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 0671746723
Published: 2010-08-25T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

The Electric Monk hardly knew what to believe any more.

He had been through a bewildering number of belief systems in theprevious few hours, most of which had failed to provide him with thelong-term spiritual solace that it was his bounden programmingeternally to seek.

He was fed up. Frankly. And tired. And dispirited.

And furthermore, which caught him by surprise, he rather missedhis horse. A dull and menial creature, to be sure, and as such hardlyworthy of the preoccupation of one whose mind was destined forever toconcern itself with higher things beyond the understanding of a simplehorse, but nevertheless he missed it.

He wanted to sit on it. He wanted to pat it. He wanted to feelthat it didn’t understand.

He wondered where it was.

He dangled his feet disconsolately from the branch of the tree inwhich he had spent the night. He had climbed it in pursuit of some wildfantastic dream and then had got stuck and had to stay there till themorning.

Even now, by daylight, he wasn’t certain how he was going to getdown. He came for a moment perilously close to believing that he couldfly, but a quick-thinking error-checking protocol cut in and told himnot to be so silly.

It was a problem though.

Whatever burning fire of faith had borne him, inspired on wingsof hope, upwards through the branches of the tree in the magic hours ofnight, had not also provided him with instructions on how to get backdown again when, like altogether too many of these burning fiery night– time faiths, it had deserted him in the morning.

And speaking — or rather thinking — of burning fiery things,there had been a major burning fiery thing a little distance from herein the early pre-dawn hours.

It lay, he thought, in the direction from which he himself hadcome when he had been drawn by a deep spiritual compulsion towards thisinconveniently high but otherwise embarrassingly ordinary tree. He hadlonged to go and worship at the fire, to pledge himself eternally toits holy glare, but while he had been struggling hopelessly to find away downwards through the branches, fire engines had arrived and putthe divine radiance out, and that had been another creed out of thewindow.

The sun had been up for some hours now, and though he hadoccupied the time as best as he could, believing in clouds, believingin twigs, believing in a peculiar form of flying beetle, he believednow that he was fed up, and was utterly convinced, furthermore, that hewas getting hungry.

He wished he’d taken the precaution of providing himself withsome food from the dwelling place he had visited in the night, to whichhe had carried his sacred burden for entombment in the holy broomcupboard, but he had left in the grip of a white passion, believingthat such mundane matters as food were of no consequence, that the tree would provide.

Well, it had provided.

It had provided twigs.

Monks did not eat twigs.

In fact, now he came to think of it, he felt a littleuncomfortable about some of the things he had believed last night andhad found some of the results a little confusing.

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