They were left standing on a quiet hilltop on a tranquil evening.
The sun was setting. All around them softly undulating green countryside rolled off gently into the distance. Birds sang about what they thought of it all, and the general opinion seemed to be good. A little way away could be heard the sound of children playing, and a little further away than the apparent source of that sound could be seen in the dimming evening light the outlines of a small town.
The town appeared to consist mostly of fairly low buildings made of white stone. The skyline was of gentle pleasing curves.
The sun had nearly set.
As if out of nowhere, music began. Slartibartfast tugged at a switch and it stopped.
A voice said, “This…” Slartibartfast tugged at a switch and it stopped.
I will tell you about it, he said quietly.
The place was peaceful. Arthur felt happy. Even Ford seemed cheerful. They walked a short way in the direction of the town, and the Informational Illusion of the grass was pleasant and springy under their feet, and the Informational Illusion of the flowers smelt sweet and fragrant. Only Slartibartfast seemed apprehensive and out of sorts.
He stopped and looked up.
It suddenly occurred to Arthur that, coming as this did at the end, so to speak, or rather the beginning of all the horror they had just blurredly experienced, something nasty must be about to happen. He was distressed to think that something nasty could happen to somewhere as idyllic as this. He too glanced up. There was nothing in the sky.
They’re not about to attack here, are they? he said. He realized that this was merely a recording he was walking through, but he still felt alarmed.
Nothing is about to attack here, said Slartibartfast in a voice which unexpectedly trembled with emotion. This is where it all started. This is the place itself. This is Krikkit.
He stared up into the sky.
The sky, from one horizon to another, from east to west, from north to south, was utterly and completely black.