Marvin shuffled slowly down the stones of the hallway. They measured at negative sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit, but they didn't feel cold to Marvin. Nothing ever felt cold to Marvin's metal form. He was a robot, and an unhappy one at that. One might say that Marvin had a cold heart, but then Marvin could respond with what the word "cold" was in over three hundred different languages and give you the name of the coldest planet in the galaxy and tell you the exact degrees of the temperature of this freezing planet and-well, you get the idea. However, it seemed to Marvin that most people did not get this idea. They did not recognize his utter genius, and so Marvin would be hired like a mercenary for the most menial of jobs. Thus, fifty or so years in the past found Marvin scrubbing away at the bathroom floor of a small restaurant on Planet Fintius, home to the "Superb Fintius Bean Burrito."
Now, Marvin had arrived at the monastery of the Monks of History, and he had just reached the cheerful door that opened into the Abbot's study. The Abbot had contacted him about some clock, and Marvin hoped it would be worthwhile.
The door slid open. "I'm so glad I can be of service to you!" it exclaimed. "Have a lovely day!"
Half of Marvin wondered why the monks installed the automatic doors with personalities if they couldn't be bothered with a central heating system, and the other half simply wanted to wreck the door. "I hope you have a miserable life," he muttered. "Oh, wait-you're a robot too! You don't have a life."
The door closed behind him with a quiet whimper.
"Marvin! I'm happy you could make it! I know the Doogians have been restricting travel from planet to planet lately." A scrawny man, probably the Abbot, with a tonsure made permanent from balding looked up from his desk. Eleven cloaked heads clustered behind him shot upward, as well as one wearing a different kind of hood, with a few strands of blonde hair peeking out.
"The Doogians were no problem," Marvin said. He had snuck past them and boarded a taxi ship. No problem at all.
"Wonderful!" The Abbot apologeticly shuffled his papers and set them aside. "The monks and I were just calculating how much time the average male mountain ferret should have. You know-those rare, odd ones from the planet Kerwoundle that look like furry frogs."
"Do they assist the survival of sentient beings?" Marvin asked. He stared blankly at the Abbot, who fidgeted nervously.
"Er, no. Not exactly."
"Then no time," Marvin said bluntly.
The Abbot set his feather pen aside as well. "Well, uh, thank you for your help. I'll certainly consider your proposal." He cleared his throat. "I do believe we have some business to attend to though. Sadly, we can't sit around here chatting all day." He turned to the nun with blonde hair. "This is Sister Jen, the representative from the Naloen Monastery of Kerwoundle. Sister, meet Marvin." Marvin nodded in greeting. The nun batted her false eyelashes. "Sister Jen," the Abbot continued. "Would you mind brewing up some tea while we discuss our business?"
Sister Jen smiled graciously and swept out of the room, the monks' eyes following her figure appreciatively.
"Thank you, dear sister!" the Abbot called after her. Marvin forced himself not to insult the door as it closed happily behind the nun. "So where were we, Marvin?" the Abbot asked.
"Business about a clock," Marvin droned. "I have the letter you sent, if you want to look at it." He held out the paper.
"I don't need it," the Abbot said. "As a matter of fact, no one really needs that thing!" The head monk reached forward, seized the letter, and flung it into the fire. Marvin watched it crackle and burn. The Abbot turned back to Marvin with a forced smile. "Secrecy and things-best to keep as little evidence as possible!"
Marvin blinked. "Why the secrecy?"
"Oh, for this and that." The Abbot glanced around at the other monks, who all looked incredibly serious and a bit frightened. The Abbot leaned over his desk, closer to Marvin. "The Clock's been stolen," he blurted out. He fell back into his chair and covered his thin, bony face with his hands. "There-I've said it! You musn't tell anyone else! The truth hasn't slipped out yet, and hopefully it never will." The other monks quickly surrounded him and rubbed his back in comfort.
"What clock?" Marvin asked.
"The Clock. The one and only true Clock has been stolen. It can alter time! If it's in the wrong hands, the galaxy is doomed!"
"Do you have any idea who would have wanted to take it?"
"Our best guess is the people of the Plaximus Gutorian Kingdom. They always did want to control time instead of us. You see, thousands of years ago, our forefathers warred with the Plaximus Gutorian Kingdom for the power over time. We considered it a responsibility that had to be protected, but the Plaximus-"
If Marvin heard the words "Plaximus Gutorian" one more time, his engine would blow. "Just tell me what the clock looks like, and I'll go retrieve it for you."
"Right. Yes," the flustered Abbot said hurriedly. "But you must know that the Clock isn't exactly... well, normal-looking. The Clock is actually-how do I say this...." He looked to the other monks, who simply shrugged. "Vows of silence... right."
The door opened, wishing many blessings onto Sister Jen, who entered the room bearing a tray of steaming mugs of tea. "Tea time!" she announced, setting the platter on the Abbot's desk.
"Thank you, Sister Jen," the Abbot said, selecting a mug for himself. He took a sip, then put it down and faced Marvin. "Let's just say, you'll know it when you see it."
"Know what?" the nun asked innocently.
"Nothing, nothing at all," the Abbot said carefully. "I think we're all done with our talk now, though."
Sister Jen's eyes narrowed, then she brightened and moved toward the door. "I think I left something in the kitchen," she said. "I'll be right back." The nun sashayed out of the room and into the hall, thanking the door for its well wishes. When she was sure the door was closed behind her, the smile fell from her face. She reached into a deep pocket and pulled out a small device. She held it close to her face.
"They're sending someone after it," she said into it. "Hide it securely, Sister Brelinda. We'd better be careful."
Sister Jen stowed the device in her pocket again and walked off toward the kitchen.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Marvin took back his credit card from the taxi ship driver, and looked around at the Plaximus Gutorian Kingdom- a rather small planet, dominated by one central city. The Plaximus Gutorians were vaguely humanoid, with three eyes in their foreheads and squid-like tentacles for legs. Not many gave Marvin a second glance as he headed for the palace that towered up in the middle of their city.
The palace was surrounded by a wall with many terraces which stern guards viewed the city from. Inside the walls sat the real structure, tall and grand. Red orbs balanced on the spires of magnificent towers with little windows carved into the stones.
Marvin the robot slowly made his way past the Plaximus Gutorians roaming the city toward the palace, finally reaching the outer wall. A single road led inside, managed by a large gate. Two guards stood to either side of it, questioning the humming vehicles that wanted entry. Some were refused, and others were let in. Marvin joined the line, waiting impatiently to arrive at the gate. Eventually, the other vehicles were answered, and Marvin approached.
The guards sized up the robot, their three eyes surprised. "Do you travel alone?" the one on the left asked.
"Where is your vehicle?" The other said.
"Yes, I travel alone," Marvin replied. "And I left my vehicle at home."
The guards' three eyebrows shot up. "We do not tolerate sarcasm," Left said menacingly.
Marvin stared at him blankly. There was no point in replying anyway.
Right swallowed. "Are you unarmed?"
"No," Marvin said. "As a matter of fact, I have a laser beam installed in my arm. If I took my arm off, then I would be unarmed in two ways. A joke of my creator. That's all I am, really. A joke." Marvin waited for a reaction, but none came. He sighed. "Should I dismantle my arm?"
The guards exchanged glances. "I don't think that will be necessary," Right said. "But we do require you to answer a few questions. Firstly, what is your name?"
"Marvin," the robot answered gloomily.
"Where do you come from?" Left demanded.
"I don't know. My creator made me and then shipped me off. No idea where I was made."
"What is your business with the King of the Plaximus Gutorians?"
"I have a confidential query from the-" Marvin thought quickly. Luckily, Marvin could think very quickly, and it only took him a nanosecond to find a solution. A nanosecond that the guards would not notice. "-President of the Galaxy: Zaphod Beeblebrox." Zaphod was an old... friend, of Marvin's, you could say. The two-headed man had just currently been relected by some miracle, and Marvin's hope for the Galaxy had swiftly diminished.
The guards' faces grew pale. They swiftly held a whispered conference, and then Left murmured into a panel on the wall. A mechanical voice quietly answered, and Left turned to face Marvin again. "The king will see you immediately, Marvin of Nothing." He pressed a button on the panel on the wall, and the gates swung open.
The robot thought "Marvin of Nothing" suited him well.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The king of the Plaximus Gutorians sat upon his throne, a lopsided crown on his head. He smiled nervously at Marvin when he entered the throne room. "Welcome, messenger," the king addressed him.
"I think you should know that I am thoroughly depressed," Marvin told him.
The king smacked his lips. "Right. That's uh, that's nice, I guess."
"Also, the President of the Galaxy wants to know if you have the Clock," Marvin said.
The king threw a tentacle over the arm rest of his throne casually. Too casually. "What clock?"
"The only one that can change time as we know it," Marvin said.
"It's been stolen?" the king asked, his face flabbergasted. "How unfortunate. Sadly, I don't know of its whereabouts, and I certainly don't have it! Goodbye!"
Marvin did not make as if to move. "I never said it was stolen."
Three blue, murderous eyes glared at Marvin. "Look, robot. Don't act smart with me. I have four hundred guards in this palace alone, and thirty waiting just outside those doors behind you. I could call them to rid me of you in ways you wouldn't want to imagine. Maybe you'd learn that robots can feel pain too."
"Actually, I'm not acting. Judging from the information I have gathered since I have walked in, I am nine and seven hundred two thousandths multiplied by ten to the twenty-second power times smarter than you. And as for forces, the President of the Galaxy will know if I don't come back," Marvin bluffed.
The king frowned. "But everyone knows the President of the Galaxy can't really do anything."
"True," Marvin said, "but you're still a suspect of the theft of the Clock. Sending a robot back in pieces would not help your case."
"Are you threatening to blackmail me?" the king growled.
"No. Instead, I am ordering you not to put yourself in that position."
"NO ONE orders me!"
Marvin shrugged. "Then I'll ask you something. Where is the Clock?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Because you just admitted that you know, and if I never came back to the president, it would look bad, and if you let me go, I would tell the president what I just found out."
The king bared his teeth and gripped his scepter with white knuckles. Then he released it and let it clatter to the ground. "I was only following orders."
"You just said no one orders you."
"SHUT UP, ROBOT! I'm giving you the information you want, so listen."
Marvin listened.
"It's the nuns," the king said. "At the Naloen Monastery of Kerwoundle. They wanted the Clock; I wanted money. We made a deal. If my people would steal the Clock for them, the nuns would give us cash. We sent a thief, took the Clock, and delivered it to the nuns. We're waiting for word from them. That's all I know."
"The nuns have the Clock," Marvin said.
"They do," the king confirmed.
Marvin turned aroud and began walking slowly back out of the throne room.
"Wait!" the king called. Marvin stopped and half-turned. "Please, robot- whatever you do: don't tell the president I was involved!"
Marvin thought about what Zaphod would have done, had he heard the news. Most likely applaud. After all, Zaphod had once stolen the most important ship in the galaxy. Why not the most important clock?
Marvin turned back around and continued his slow walk toward the doors. "I'll see what I can do."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The Doogians were after him. Marvin, the superintelligent robot and mercenary for random jobs around the galaxy, had gotten caught by the Doogians.
The ugly brutes had followed his taxi ship to Kerwoundle, and now were chasing him, soon to catch up. However, Marvin saw a certain monastery ahead of him, and knew that nuns, even kleptomaniacal nuns, never refused to offer hospitality. He ran toward the tall building, complete with gargoyles and high arches, with the hot breath of the fire-breathing creatures practically down his neck.
The Doogians were a strange species. Disregarding all other laws, their one rule was this: Don't cause traffic. Any Doogians who stood in the middle of the sidewalk would be arrested. A Doogian with a stuffy nose would be quarantined for weeks on end. And since these creatures who couldn't stand traffic of any kind happened to have large muscles, horns, breaths of fire, and an impulsive hostility, some bright man had decided to put them in charge of road traffic management. In space. Brilliant.
Marvin banged on the door of the monastery. "OPEN UP!" he shouted. "I'M A WEARY PILGRIM WITH A BUNCH OF OILTHIRSTY DOOGIANS RIGHT BEHIND ME!'
The door opened immediately, and Marvin fled inside. The door did not close.
"What are you doing?" Marvin asked the nun who held open the door. "Those are Doogians! They're trying to disassemble me!"
"We offer hospitality to all," the nun said calmly. Marvin inched toward the holy water.
The Doogians ran into the monastery and kept running. They crashed into the stone wall, tearing down an intricate tapestry as they fell.
The nun let the door close. "Guests," she said peacefully. "We were just sitting down to supper. If you would like, you could join us."
Marvin stared in horror at the Doogians. There were three of them, and the largest was just standing up again, snorting out sparks. The other Doogians coughed up a few fireballs that singed the tapestry. The largest turned to Marvin with a grunt. His cheeks lit up in fury, signaling another fireball. Marvin grabbed the bowl of holy water.
The nun cleared her throat, and both Doogians and robot turned to look at her. She swept in front of them down a hallway. "If you would follow me."
Marvin slowly set down the bowl and followed her, casting suspicious looks at the Doogians, who trailed after them, flexing and snorting.
The nun led them down a few corridors and into a large room. A long table crowded with other women was set in the middle, with bowls of some sort of soup or stew in front of the nuns. The first nun showed them to a few empty spots at the end of the table, and ladled stew into their bowls. Marvin refused however, not being able to eat. It wasn't that it did not look terrific, Marvin carefully explained, it was just that he was a robot. He didn't need food. The Doogians, on the other hand, eyed the stew as if they hadn't eaten in days.
"We have a few guests with us tonight," the first nun, Samantha, announced. "Three Doogians and a robot. I expect everyone to show great hospitality and kindness to these tired travelers."
She spoke with authority, and Marvin guessed she was the Mother Nun. He waited patiently while the nuns prayed. When they were done, and they had all begun to eat, Marvin spoke up. "Mother Samantha?" he addressed the nun.
She set down her spoon. "Yes?"
"Where is the-"
"MMMPH," grunted a Doogian, face in his bowl.
Marvin ignored this and tried again. "Where is the-"
"UMPH," muttered another one, sloppily licking up his stew.
"WHERE IS THE CLOCK?" Marvin shouted. The Doogians looked up innocently at his raised voice.
Mother Samantha set her jaw. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"The king of the Plaximus Gutorians already played this game. I really don't want to play it again," Marvin said truthfully. The Doogian next to him snickered out sparks.
"If you would like me to answer your question, first answer mine," Mother Samantha said stubbornly. "What are you talking about?"
"We are going to play this game," sighed Marvin. "That's right: just add to my misery. I'm talking about the clock- the one that can control time."
The nuns simultaneously stiffened. "He's the one Sister Jen warned us about!" Mother Samantha shrieked. "Close the doors! Don't let him get out! And especially don't let him get to the cellar!" Nuns ran this way and that, sprinting to close doors and bar them, some dashing off to sound an alarm.
The Doogians growled lowly. The nuns were clogging up the room, and shutting off entrances. They were causing traffic.
"So the Clock is in the cellar, then?" Marvin asked.
Mother Samantha's nostrils flared, but she said nothing. Finally, she turned with one last evil glare and ran to help the other nuns bar the doors.
That was the last straw for the Doogians. They stood up, roaring, their cheeks glowing red, and Marvin saw his opportunity. Just as a giant fireball flew over his head toward screaming nuns and a barred door, he started running for the last door left open.
Quickly he ducked through it and shut it after him, scanning the room he was in. It seemed to be a sort of store room, with sacks of flour and barrels of vegetables stacked all around it. A small hatch was on the floor, bolted with a slab of wood. Marvin carefully slid the wood away and opened the hatch, peering down into it. All he could see was darkness. Marvin figured this must be the cellar. He switched on his night vision and clambered down through the hatch.
The cellar, apparently, had been turned into a prison of sorts. An old man, curled up in a ball and dressed in a monk's robes, shuddered on the dirt floor. He looked up, blinking rapidly, at the sound of Marvin's footsteps coming down the ladder.
"Is it dinner time?" the man croaked.
Marvin looked around the room. No clock to be seen. "No, sorry. Have you seen a clock around here lately though?"
"Clock?" The old man coughed wretchedly, then continued. "I am the Clock."
"What do you mean?" Marvin asked, suddenly interested in the old man.
"I am the Clock," the man repeated.
"The one true Clock? The one that can alter time?" Marvin questioned. The Abbot was right-the Clock definitely didn't look like the average clock.
Before the man could reply, Mother Samantha appeared on the ladder. "I see you found it," she snarled.
"I suppose I did," Marvin replied carefully. "What about it?"
"What about it?" Mother Samantha said. "I won't let you go anywhere with the Clock. You'll never see the light of day again, and you certainly won't-"
"You're clogging up the ladder," Marvin told her. "Causing traffic. Doogians don't like traffic."
Mother Samantha looked up into the ugly face of her doom, which was peering down at her. The nun screamed, and the Doogian swept her up, off the ladder. It's said that she was never seen again. Then again, it's also said that Zaphod Beeblebrox never committed a crime in his life, which most knew to be preposterous.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thus Marvin arrived back at the monastery of the Monks of History on friendly terms with the Doogians, toting an ancient man who claimed he could alter the course of time.
"You're back!" the Abbot greeted him when Marvin entered his study. "What did you bring back with you?"
"The Clock, just as you wanted," Marvin said. "Why would you ask that?"
"Well, you see," the Abbot said, "We found the Clock roaming around the halls a few hours after you left. Turns out it wasn't stolen after all. Rather embarrassing, really."
"But..." Marvin stuttered. "I traveled to the Plaximus Gutorian kingdom and spoke with the king. He had stolen the clock and given it to the nuns at the Naloen Monastery of Kerwoundle-which you don't have to worry about anymore, by the way: the whole place was ravaged by Doogians. And I found the Clock in their cellar. An old man- he said he could change time. I found the Clock."
"An old man! Yes, those were the words I was looking for the other day, when I was trying to describe the Clock to you," the Abbot explained. "My apologies: I am an old man myself, and words tend to flee from my tongue. But do send for the man. Maybe we can help the poor thing."
Marvin didn't move, in shock. "You forgot how to say 'old man,'" he said, quivering slightly. "And you led me on a wild hunt for nothing."
"I'm incredibly sorry," the Abbot said sheepishly. After a moment, he continued. "But pray do tell where this man is."
"He's just outside the door," Marvin muttered, infuriated.
The Abbot nervously edged around Marvin and approached the door, which opened with a cheery, "Good morning, Father Abbot!"
The Abbot hurriedly returned the greeting to the door, and peeked out into the hallway. "Brother Marley!" he exclaimed. "How very good to see you!"
"Brother Marley?" Marvin spat.
"Marvin, this is Brother Marley!" the Abbot introduced. "He's a bit foggy in the head, and he went missing a few days ago, around the time we lost the Clock!"
The old man Marvin had rescued from the nuns waved slightly, his eyelids starting to droop.
"The Plaximus Gutorians and the nuns probably only had the description of an 'old man!'" the Abbot said with a chuckle. "They could have taken any one of us monks and mistaken him for the Clock!" He slapped his knee, laughing, and almost fell over. Marvin glowered silently at him. "Haha! That's some of the funniest stuff I've had happen in years!" Marvin continued to glower silently. The Abbot realized this, and quickly tried to save himself. "I'm terribly sorry for all of this," he said. "But thank you for getting Brother Marley back! We were a bit worried."
Marvin inched his way to the door. It opened with a happy, "Have a great day!"
"Have a miserable life," Marvin muttered back, as he had before. Maybe it was time he took up another career. The Doogians had offered him a job in traffic control. Maybe Marvin should try that. After all, you couldn't get much worse than scrubbing bathroom floors at a restaurant selling bean burritos on Planet Fintius. But knowing Marvin, he probably could.