“Oh God,” muttered Ford, slumped against a bulkhead and started to count to ten. He was desperately worried that one day sentient life forms would forget how to do this. Only by counting could humans demonstrate their independence of computers.

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The Encyclopedia Galactica defines a robot as a mechanical apparatus designed to do the work of a man. The marketing division of the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation defines a robot as “Your Plastic Pal Who’s Fun To Be With.”

Er, excuse me, who am I? Hello? Why am I here? What’s my purpose in life? What do I mean by who am I?

“Zaphod! Wake up!”
“Mmmmmwwwwwerrrrr?”
“Hey come on, wake up.”
“Just let me stick to what I’m good at, yeah?” muttered Zaphod and rolled away from the voice back to sleep.

The planet has – or rather had- a problem, which was this: most of the people on it were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for the problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn’t the small green peices of paper that were unhappy.

“Ford,” he said. “you’re turning into a penguin. Stop it.”