The Angel of Doubt

Chapter One

Far off in a rather unfashionable part of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small, insignificant Sun. And orbiting this Sun is an extremely insignificant blue-green planet that is home to some of the most primitive life forms ever conceived. Or so goes the widely held belief of a good portion of the galaxy. But it should be noticed that the very same portion of the Galaxy previously touched upon is generally so dim-witted themselves that their argument isn't important. It is not known if anyone remains alive that can attest to the true nature of the insignificant blue-green planet known as Earth, because so little information exists about it and none of the life forms on Earth save perhaps the dolphins and mice know that there is in fact life outside of their own little planet. And they certainly don't know about the fine art that is intergalactic hitchhiking, let alone the wholly remarkable book known as The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The aforementioned book is perhaps the best selling book in the history of the Universe, and in fact has surpassed the Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository for all knowledge in the Universe for two reasons. One is that it is cheaper and considerably smaller than the Encyclopedia Galactia and the other is that it has the words DON'T PANIC written in large, friendly letters on the cover. Yes, if you wish to see the galaxy for less than ten Altarian dollars a day, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is the only book that can help you achieve this. And in the ever inconstant and jumbled place that is the Universe, a towel and The Guide may be the only things that can save you from some horrible type of doom that is so mind-numbingly brutal that new adjectives and sensations are brought forth to describe the pain one would endure. Not to mention, that this very book has been known to cause many profound changes in it's history...

Tokyo-3 is most often described by people in several terms, such as; Technological Wonder, Fortress City, Humanity's Last Stronghold and sometimes Hell or The Magical Disappearing City. It was also once suggested that Tokyo-3 be called The City of Angels in it's tour guide brochures, but the person who suggested this was quickly silenced by a sniper's bullet. Coincidently, it should be noted that the Los Angeles SWAT team was attending a JSSDF-sponsored convention outlining all sorts of new and effective ways of breaking into and forcibly taking highly defended underground installations when this person was silenced. Most building contractors on the payroll of the United Nations would agree a more apt description for the city would be Gold Mine or Early Retirement. In fact, it should be noted that with very few exceptions, never in the history of the Universe have construction workers made so much money so quickly than they have in Tokyo-3. In fact, the contractors and crews that work to rebuild the seemingly endlessly half-destroyed city have gone from the normal hard working, blue collar stereotype of pickup trucks and dive bars to driving luxury cars and splurging on things such as nose jobs and mistresses.

But putting all that aside, the city of Tokyo-3 is all in all isn't that bad of a place to live. In fact, if the circumstances where better, it's possible that such a technologically advanced city would be incredibly desirable to live in, and some would argue it already is now. That is, if you can overlook the attacking giants called Angels, the endless collateral damage on the part of the giant robots known as Evangelions that while tasked with protecting humanity, still seem to do a good deal of harm to the places humanity like to call home and last but not least the dealings of a shady organization that runs the city. NERV is in place to save mankind, yet, it echoes conspiracy theories and constantly feeds misinformation to the public for much the same reason most organizations feed misinformation to the press and public, to either cover up for some really dark and terrible secrets, or to simply make it seem like they are hiding something awful so as to make a normally mundane operation more exciting. But for all their misinformation and their shadowy conspiracies real or imagined, there really was only one person working for NERV that really knew what loomed on the horizon when in the course of a single afternoon, a wholly remarkable book feel into the hands of a boy who was regarded by those around him as generally the most depressed being ever. (It should be noted that these people couldn't be farther from the truth if the truth was a gigantic brick wall painted pink with little yellow daisies on it that they had just walked into.)

Shinji Ikari, Third Child and pilot of Evangelion Unit-01, and to some, the most depressed being ever, was apathetic upon his departure from class. Today, he had managed to shake off his two best friends, and their raging hormones, to have a quiet afternoon of what can only be described as Brooding to Beethoven. While normally this would make him happy, his thoughts were drifting to subjects he dreaded. "I suppose I'll have to head home soon, cook dinner and bag Misato's empties." Hanging his head in a sigh, Shinji turned on the balls of his heels to leave the school grounds and head for home. Home was a relatively new concept to Shinji. He was never homeless, per say, he just never felt like his inhabitance was what he needed. Shinji has never had a clue about what a home is, in the abstract, emotional sense. Trying to explain this feeling of belonging to him would be like trying to explain a box of crayons to a cage full of colorblind moles. In direct correlation to the abstract emotion of home is the notion of family. His mother dead, his father a bastard and the apathetic farther twigs and branches of his family tree, Shinji also lacked a true sense of family. He isn't sure if a genetically modified penguin, a guardian/borderline alcoholic/military officer and a brash and sometimes bitchy classmate/comrade in arms/possible love interest, all of no relation, make a family, but it's the closet thing he has ever had.

As he approached a small bench about halfway from his shared apartment, Shinji was struck in the head by something, which not surprisingly, caused him to stumble, fall onto the bench, and blackout for a few moments. Upon rebounding from his momentary lapse of consciousness, the first thing Shinji blurted out was what any homo sapiens would. "My head! I think something hit my head!"

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy has this to say about the habits of homo sapiens. Homo sapiens, more commonly known as humans or Earthmen, are a unremarkable, primitive race. One of their more intelligent members of the species long ago proved that they were just a step up from their closest genetic relative, the chimpanzee. (The chimpanzee is a incredibly smart animal for it's brain size, and has been proven to have been using tools to get at food before humans had even the foggiest to try.) Due to their under-evolved nature, the humanity as a species has a few quirks it has inherited. One of these seemingly unbreakable habits is the habit of constantly stating the obvious. For instance, if you encounter a human, they are more than likely going to start off by telling you about how great the weather is. The next human you come across will tell you the same thing. Don't try finding one on a pleasant day that won't tell you this, humans are incapable of not telling you how nice the weather is. Curiously enough, if a member of the homo sapiens is injured in some way, the first thing they will do upon regaining their composure is rhetorically state what caused them harm. If you stab them, they will almost always reply with "You stabbed me!", instead of "Oh Zarquon, my zarking sides!", or some other exclamation of pain. It is unknown if a reason is ever going to be established as for why humans cannot stop stating the obvious, because Earth has reportedly been demolished to make way for a hyperspace bypass.

Shinji blinked. He could of swore he had just heard a voice explain something about stating the obvious, clear as day, but there was no one around. "We'll that's weird. I thought I heard someone talking." And the guide repeated the entry on the habits of homo sapiens, much to Shinji's surprise. "So the book is talking!" Half-way through the Guide's third repeat, Shinji slammed the book shut, to glance at the front cover. To his utmost surprise, all that he found on that cover were the words DON'T PANIC written in large, friendly letters. "Hmm, maybe I should show this to Misato..."

This is what the Guide has to say about Misato Katsuragi. If Zaphod Beeblebrox is "the best bang since the Big One.", Misato Katsuragi has to be in the top three. In every way as skilled and exciting as Eccentrica Gallumbits, the triple breasted whore of Eroticon Six, with one less breast, Miss Katsuragi has managed to earn a spot on the Guide's list of Things to Do and See on Earth. Able to spend a week in the sack as well as do things to yours you've only read about, it's worth the trip to the backwater planet to find her. As a post script, it should be noted that Miss Katsuragi is credited with creating the incredibly divine torrent of sensations called the "Yebisu Large Mouthed Bass.", which reportedly involves the manipulation of space and time within her mouth to provide a sensation that currently has no words to describe. Trust me, you have to be there.

"Large mouthed bass?" Shinji blurted. "Misato? What?!"

"Ah yes, I believe I can help you with that, Shinji."

"Mr. Kaji?" asked Shinji. "What are you doing here."

"Finding out what happened to... Oh yes, there it is." Kaji motioned at the book-like object in Shinji's lap. "Thats what I'm looking for. Had a bit of a problem with an explosion at my favorite bar."

"Mr. Kaji, if this is your book, what is it? And why is Misato being compared to a... a... triple breasted whore?"

Kaji sighed, sitting down on the bench next to Shinji and putting an arm around his shoulder. "Shinji, what if I told you I wasn't actually from Japan, and actually from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse?"

"Excuse me?"

"Shinji, allow me to introduce myself. My real name is Ford Prefect, and I'm a field researcher for that book your holding,The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

After a long pause, Shinji simply glanced down at this feet and mumbled, "I don't believe it, you've gone mad."

"No, actually, I haven't gone mad. I've gone mad before, you see, and this is a completely different sensation." Ford reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, torn, and ragged towel. But what struck Shinji as odd was just how disproportional the whole thing had been, seeing as the towel was much bigger than the pocket. "Well, now, what should we do about this then?"

"Do about what, Mr, Ka-, er Mr. Prefect?"

"Please, call me Ford. Mr. Prefect makes me sound completely un-cool and un-froody." Ford folded the towel up a few times and stuck it behind his head, slumping down on the bench to have a comfortable head rest. "No, we have to do something with you, Shinji. You're one of the few people to become aware of the Guide, and given the information I've gathered, that puts you in a very dangerous position, moreso than your profession as a pilot. If your father knew I know what I do, and what you will soon know too, you'd be dead."

"Sometimes, it feels like I already am dead." Shinji sighed a dejected sigh, the kind of sigh only angsty teens seem to be able to express. Then came the one thing that Shinji never expected, a punch in the gut.

"No, we'll be having none of that, you wont turn into Marvin. I won't let you." Ford reached into his other pocket and pulled out a bottle of sake and two cups. "Anyway, you need to loosen up, especially since you still have much to learn."

Shinji was doubled over in pain, so he completely missed what Ford had just said. "You hit me!"

"Obviously."

"Why?!"

"Because in the long run, you'll thank me later." Ford poured two drinks of sake, and handed one to Shinji. "Come on now, drink up. Trust me, you'll need to."

"I'm underage." Shinji protested. "Won't it stunt my growth or something?"

"That's exactly right, you're just a child. And children usually have to listen to adults, so as a responsible adult, I order you to drink that sake this instant."

Shinji, unsurprisingly, obeyed Ford's order, tossing back the sake as fast as he could, only to cough, sputter and gag at the taste. "It... it burns!"

"Lightweight!" Ford scoffed amusedly, tossing back a shot. "I'm starting you out small, on the easy, kidergarden stuff. Now, if I had a bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit, you'd be begging for mercy!" He poured Shinji another shot and gave it to him. "Here, drink up! You're going too slow! You've still got to polish off this entire bottle before we really get down to business."

Shinji quaffed the shot down, with tears tugging at the corners of his eyes and a fire in his throat that led a burning trail down to his uneasy stomach. "I don't think I can finish a whole bottle! I'd rather eat Misato's cooking than drink anymore!"

"What? Alcohol is like mother's milk! You've just got much to learn."

"Gack!" Downing his third shot, Shinji was beginning to feel slightly less repulsed. "Why are all the people I'm surrounded by alcoholics..."

"Ask the Guide about alcohol sometime Shinji, you'd be surprised." Ford finally put the bottle aside, pausing to look at the copy of the Guide in Shinji's lap. "So, I suppose you want to know the true nature of the Earth, right? Well, the short version is Earth is not your ordinary planet, it's actually a giant computer, with every life-form on this planet as part of it's matrix. It was designed to compute the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. We know the answer is 42, we just don't know the question."

"42?"

"Yes, 42."

"But that doesn't make any sense!"

"Regardless of that, it's the truth. Sad to say, no one has learned the question to the answer, because right before Earth was going to give the question, it was destroyed by the Vogons. Only to be rebuilt again by the Magratheans, only to be destroyed again, finally for good, me along with it."

"How is that possible, you're still alive."

"The supposed destruction of all possible Earths only serves as a genesis for the creation of countless others, which all seem to be focused and chained to this Earth. I woke up here, a completely new person years ago, only to spend a week in bed with the oh-so talented Misato Katsuragi, and become the Kaji you know, all the while researching for the Guide and trying to uncover the truth about the Angels."

"Have you found the truth?"

"No. In fact, as far as I can tell they are a random occurrence, spawned by the increasingly improbable nature of the universe." Ford paused, wrapping his towel around his neck as a sort of dingy scarf. "But I do suspect there is more than meets the eye going on at NERV."

"What? Can Evangelions transform or something?"

"No, not as much. They really don't do anything of interest. But they need better weapons, like a nice giant Kill-O-Zap or a Destruct-A-Matic beam or something, cut through the Angels quicker."

"Kill-O-Zap?"

"It's a gun, you know, like a raygun, you'd call it."

Shinji's stomach grumbled, the alcohol was starting to take full effect and his body wanted some food to help mop it up. "I should get going, go back and cook dinner. Misato is going to be upset and I don't wanna think about Asuka."

"Shinji, you can stay and shoot the breeze with me some more, Asuka and Misato have fingers, they can order takeout just like anyone else."

"But it was my turn to cook!"

"According to what I've heard, it's always your turn to cook." Ford ignored the glare, and threw his arm back around Shinji's shoulders. "Besides, you and I are going to go find a party. Or at least get you sauced before we send you back to Misato. I swear, you really have to ask her to give you a romp."

"What?"

"Shinji, in all the years I've been alive, I've had few better in the sack than Misato. She does this thing with her mouth, it's like a black hole."

"But... don't black holes destroy planets?"

"Well, let's say that black holes are like vacuum cleaners, really powerful vacuum cleaners that can swallow light itself, which is no easy task, mind you." Ford sighed wistfully, trying to fully illustrate the mental image he had to Shinji using his hands and his towel, to little success. "That makes Mistao's mighty mouth like a gigantic, industrial sized vacuum hose, engulfing, sucking, and swallowing all that it comes in contact with."

Shinji belched, a noted after effect of the alcohol he had ingested. "I'm never going to look at cleaning the same way again."

"You mean to tell me you've never even considered trying something like that with a real vacuum?" Shinji shook his head as fast as he could, only to cause his world to spin. "Hmm... Perhaps there is still hope for you yet."

"Ford? You said you could be killed for what you have found at NERV."

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"What is it you've found?"

An entirely wild fire flashed across Ford's eyes as he hopped to his feet and grabbed Shinji by the arm. "Well then, let's go see, shall we?"

(Elsewhere, in England.)

It was a cool evening, with the waves softly caressing the English countryside-turned-beach. Indeed the world was different, post-Second Impact, ironically turning a rather bland yet

charming section of Britain into a beach front that had become a tourist gold mine. Few people enjoyed the calmness, bikini-clad women and higher property values more than a man called Arthur Dent. After years of travel, he had awoken after the incident in New York to find himself lying on the beach that was now his front yard. Younger in appearance and vitality, Dent set up a business renting metal detectors to beach goers, and generally just enjoying life. He figured he missed his travels, the excitement of hitchhiking, but, with a second chance at life, he was content, his role in the history of the Earth completely forgotten. And so, life went on for Arthur Dent, who assumed he was the only survivor of Stavro Mueller Beta. In fact, he had decided most of his life had been a figment of his own imagination and thus he never was an intergalactic hitchhiker and he had never known anyone named Ford Prefect. He was, of course, wrong.

"Excuse me, sir." Arthur, whom had been enjoying a nice afternoon nap under a beach umbrella next to his rental business, looked up to see a Postman. "Are you Arthur Dent?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You're a jerk Dent; a complete kneebiter."

"Pardon me?" asked Arthur, coming out of his semi-awake, dazed state. "What did you say?"

"I said, I have a bit of urgent post to deliver to you, Mr. Dent." the Postman said, removing two large envelopes from his bag. "Special delivery, all the way from around the world, Singapore, I think."

"Who in blazes would I know in Singapore?"

"I haven't the foggiest Mr. Dent." he cleared his throat. "Regardless, since this is an off-schedule delivery, it is customary to tip your postman."

Arthur sighed and reached into his pocket. "Look, here's five quid."

"Thank you, Mr. Dent. Good day." the Postman snatched the money, handed Arthur the two large envelopes and left abruptly, obviously perturbed at the extension of his workday.

Arthur eyed the two envelopes suspiciously, first finding that they were addressed from Japan and not from Singapore as previously thought. Secondly, he looked at the return address, which simply said C/O F.P. Kaji, Tokyo-3, Japan. After a moment of silent contemplation on just who this Kaji fellow was anyway, Arthur bit the bullet and opened his mail. In the first envelope he found a set of test results, and in the second envelope he found a letter that read as follows;

Arthur,

Come to Tokyo-3 and all will be explained over a couple pints of bitter. Don't forget your towel.

Signed,

Ford Prefect.

"Ford?" Arthur asked no one in particular, "Ford is alive?" Under his feet in the sand, a muffled voice began explaining the history of the Ford Motor Company. Arthur reached down and picked up a battered old book like object. Not pausing to realize the significance of his find, he shoved it in his pocket and grabbed the nearest towel. He had a plane to catch.

--
Author's Notes - Thanks for reading the opening chapter of The Angel of Doubt. I have to say this has been the project I've wanted to do the most since well, Triumvirate, I suppose. It took me a long time to piece together the loose ends that I needed to connect to make the most believable crossover I could, because without doing so, personally, I think the story would just be bunk, you know? But this is a good story, a good start. I've worked out all the little details of plot. For because, unlike most of the stories on my profile now, I have a clear definition of resolution. I know right now exactly how I am going to end this story, and that's a first for me. I know a lot of people are going to have a bit of a problem with the whole Kaji-Ford thing, but I think you'll all find it makes a lot more sense later on. Is this my return to work, and my first real attempt since I went off to college? We'll see. So you know, read and review. I'd like to get some honest opinions on things. Till next time, enjoy!