Then, as his running feet took him nearer, he saw more clearly. The batsman standing ready at the wicket was not one of the England cricket team. He was not one of the Australian cricket team. It was one of the robot Krikkit team. It was a cold, hard, lethal white killer-robot that presumably had not returned to its ship with the others. Quite a few thoughts collided in Arthur Dent’s mind at this moment, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop running. Time seemed to be going terribly, terribly slowly, but still he didn’t seem to be able to stop running. Moving as if through syrup, he slowly turned his troubled head and looked at his own hand, the hand which was holding the small hard red ball. His feet were pounding slowly onwards, unstoppably, as he stared at the ball gripped in his helpless hand. It was emitting a deep red glow and flashing intermittently. And still his feet were pounding inexorably forward. He looked at the Krikkit robot again standing implacably still and purposefully in front of him, battleclub raised in readiness. Its eyes were burning with a deep cold fascinating light, and Arthur could not move his own eyes from them. He seemed to be looking down a tunnel at them nothing on either side seemed to exist. Some of the thoughts which were colliding in his mind at this time were these: He felt a hell of a fool. He felt that he should have listened rather more carefully to a number of things he had heard said, phrases which now pounded round in his mind as his feet pounded onwards to the point where he would inevitably release the ball to the Krikkit robot, who would inevitably strike it. He remembered Hactar saying, “Have I failed? Failure doesn’t bother me.” He remembered the account of Hactar’s dying words, “What’s done is done, I have fulfilled my function.” He remembered Hactar saying that he had managed to make “a few things.” He remembered the sudden movement in his hold-all that had made him grip it tightly to himself when he was in the Dust Cloud. He remembered that he had travelled back in time a couple of days to come to Lord’s again. He also remembered that he wasn’t a very good bowler. 然而，當他跑得近一點時，他纔看清楚，站在三柱門邊的擊球手，不是英國隊的，也不是澳大利亞隊的，而是版求機器人隊的。也就是那種冷酷、無情、致命的白色殺手。也許它恰恰沒有跟其他人一起乘飛船離開。 阿瑟·鄧特的腦海裏，剎那間閃現了好多念頭，但他已無法停下腳步。時間，似乎變得極慢、無比慢。可他就是無法停住腳步。 像是在糖漿裏移動一樣，他極慢地低下頭去，看着自己的手。手中，是那小小的、堅硬的、紅色的板球。 他的腳還在向前邁着，不停地邁着。他盯着手中的球。它開始發出暗紅色的光，一閃一閃。可他的腳還在不停地邁着。 他又望向版求機器人。它定定地站在那兒，手中的球棒高高舉起，已經做好了充分的準備。它眼中射出兩道如劍的寒光。阿瑟無法移開視線，像是在往一條隧道里看似的——沒有其他地方可以看。 此時在他腦中閃現的念頭如下： 他覺得自己奇蠢無比。 他覺得他早該仔細聽別人講的話。那些話如今都在腦中迴響，正如他的雙腿不由自主地向前奔去，正如他將不由自主地把球投向版求機器人，正如對方將無法挽回地擊球。 他記起黑克特說過：“我失敗了嗎？失敗已與我無關。” 他記起黑克特的遺言：“過去的畢竟過去了……我已完成任務……” 他記起黑克特說他“做了點東西”。 他記起，在塵雲裏的時候自己怎麼會那樣突然地抓住那個旅行包。 他記起，是自己要穿越時空回到羅德球場。 他還記得自己並不擅長投球。
