Seen from the outside, which it never is, the Restaurant resembles a giant glittering starfish beached on a forgotten rock. Each of its arms houses the bars, the kitchens, the forcefield generators which protect the entire structure and the decayed planet on which it sits, and the Time Turbines which slowly rock the whole affair backwards and forwards across the crucial moment. In the centre sits the gigantic golden dome, almost a complete globe, and it was into this area that Zaphod, Ford, Arthur and Trillian now passed.
At least five tons of glitter alone had gone into it before them, and covered every available surface. The other surfaces were not available because they were already encrusted with jewels, precious sea shells from Santraginus, gold leaf, mosaic tiles, lizard skins and a million unidentifiable embellishments and decorations. Glass glittered, silver shone, gold gleamed, Arthur Dent goggled.
“Wowee,” said Zaphod, “Zappo.”
“Incredible!” breathed Arthur, “the people…! The things…!”
“The things,” said Ford Prefect quietly, “are also people.”
“The people…” resumed Arthur, “the… other people…”
“The lights…!” said Trillian.
“The tables…” said Arthur.
“The clothes…!” said Trillian.
The waiter thought they sounded like a couple of bailiffs.
“The End of the Universe is very popular,” said Zaphod threading his way unsteadily through the throng of tables, some made of marble, some of rich ultra-mahagony, some even of platinum, and at each a party of exotic creatures chatting amongst themselves and studying menus.
“People like to dress up for it,” continued Zaphod, “Gives it a sense of occasion.”
The tables were fanned out in a large circle around a central stage area where a small band were playing light music, at least a thousand tables was Arthur’s guess, and interspersed amongst them were swaying palms, hissing fountains, grotesque statuary, in short all the paraphernalia common to all Restaurants where little expense has been spared to give the impression that no expense has been spared. Arthur glanced around, half expecting to see someone making an American Express commercial.
Zaphod lurched into Ford, who lurched back into Zaphod.
“Wowee,” said Zaphod.
“Zappo,” said Ford.
“My great granddaddy must have really screwed up the computer’s works, you know,” said Zaphod, “I told it to take us to the nearest place to eat and it sends us to the End of the Universe. Remind me to be nice to it one day.”
He paused.
“Hey, everybody’s here you know. Everybody who was anybody.”
“Was?” said Arthur.