"Well, Adams, it’s a pleasure to et you, and I wish you a safe journey."
With that, he turned around, ready to pick up the clothes that Douglas had dropped on the ground.
"Mr. Einstein."
Adams pinched his fingers, timidly standing behind Einstein:
"To et you here, on my last night in Mi Country, I believe it must be a gift of fate."
"May I... ask a favor from you?"
Adams scratched his head and smiled sheepishly:
"When I left England, my wife was pregnant. My child was born this March, a very healthy little boy."
"Congratulations," Einstein said flatly.
"The thing is, Mr. Einstein,"
Adams quickly walked around to stand in front of Einstein, eagerly saying:
"I have been looking forward to this child for a long ti, but because the courses in Mi Country have kept busy, I haven’t had ti to return to England to see him... So, embarrassingly, until now, my son is almost a year old and still doesn’t have an official na."
"My whole family calls him ’Little Adams’, and they’ve been waiting for to co back to give my son a real na."
"This is what I’ve always wished for too: to see his face and smile with my own eyes before giving him a na."
"But... as I’ve said several tis today, eting you here is fate’s arrangent! So, Mr. Einstein—"
"[Could you do the honor of giving my son a na?]"
Adams clasped his hands together, eyes full of admiration.
However...
Einstein shook his head wearily:
"I’m sorry, child, as you can see, I am not in the right mood right now."
"Naming a child is a big deal, and it concerns the child’s whole life. As a father, you should wait until you return to England to see your baby with your own eyes before making such a decision."
Adams quickly clasped Einstein’s hand:
"Please, sir! Any na will do. I really hope my son can take you as an example, as an idol, and beco a great person like you!"
"If he grows up knowing his na was given by you, he would certainly feel proud, and maybe under your guidance, he can realize his own life’s value!"
...
Adams was articulate, able to elevate the conversation and imbue it with values.
It seems that if he was not satisfied, he would pester here for a long ti.
"Alright."
Einstein reluctantly agreed.
He took out the pen he always carried in his coat pocket and looked at Adams:
"Do you have any paper? I like to write on paper when I think."
Adams searched all over himself and shrugged helplessly.
No choice.
Einstein rummaged through his other pockets and found a folded piece of white paper.
He took it out.
It was the draft paper with the number [42] written on it.
Initially, he intended to show it to Douglas and discuss what exactly 42 ans...
He had only calculated that the cosmic constant resulted in 42, but he had no idea why it was 42 or what significance it held.
Unexpectedly.
Douglas had left without giving him a chance to discuss anything.
Never mind, he would write on this paper.
Since Douglas had already left, this paper didn’t hold any significance anymore.
Einstein didn’t unfold the draft paper; he directly wrote the surna Adams on the fold.
Then, he paused, starting to think.
What na should be given to a little boy from England...?
It should be grand, simple; perhaps sothing a bit imposing, with a hint of mystery and an aura of authority.
The more he thought, the more complex his thoughts beca, and he had no clear direction. Yet anwhile, the figure that lingered in his mind beca increasingly vivid...
Douglas.
That mysterious man who disappeared in the moonlight, a passerby who sowed hope in his life.
Nigh unconsciously.
Einstein’s right hand holding the pen moved, and he wrote the na Douglas on the left side of the white paper.
Beside him, the eagerly awaiting young Adams widened his eyes and read out the na on the sheet:
"[Douglas Adams!]"
He laughed heartily:
"Thank you, Mr. Einstein! What a great na! Douglas Adams... this will be my son’s na! That’s wonderful!"
At this mont.
Einstein snapped out of his mories of an old friend and realized, in a hazy daze, he’d actually written Douglas’s na...
Seeing the young man from England so happy, he didn’t intend to explain anything and just let things go as they would.
"Here you go."
Einstein put away his pen and handed the folded white paper with the newborn’s na to Adams:
"I wish you a smooth journey, Mr. Adams, and may your yet-to-be-t child be healthy and happy."
Afterward.
He bent down to pick up the clothes Douglas had dropped after leaving, without looking back, he entered the farm’s storeroom.
In the courtyard, the excited young Englishman blew white breath as he held the piece of draft paper Einstein nad, as if cradling a shining gold Bible:
"What unbelievable luck! My son’s na was given by Einstein! No one would dare believe this when I go back and tell them!"
"But this paper... what exactly is it? Folded so many tis, could there be any important information on it?"
Christopher Adams really did admire Einstein greatly.
He decided to open it up and have a look; if it was indeed sothing important, he would have to return it to Einstein.
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