I looked at it for a long moment. What was that doing here? A Terran telephone booth? They’d stopped using those long before it had ever become economical to ship trash to the moon. By all rights it should have decomposed before it could have been sent here. And yet, here it was, sitting before me…and ringing.

So I did what anyone would do when faced with a ringing telephone. I answered it. “Hello?

“Hi! Is this the party to whom I am speaking?”

I took a moment to parse that. “Um…yes?”

“Excellent! Now, don’t leave that phone booth or Kiefer Sutherland will shoot you.”

I stared at the receiver. “What?”

“Sorry, lame old movie joke. I get a little carried away sometimes. Ahaha.”

“Who are you, and why did you call me?”

“My name is not important.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be Slartibartfast, would it?”

“Zing! Oh, I like talking to you. There’s not one in ten thousand who remembers Adams anymore. As for why…well, hardly anyone ever comes out here anymore. I miss having people to talk to.”