Creation of the Guide | Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe

THE CREATION OF THE GUIDE

Since the discovery confirming wormhole existence by Andibar Dresbox from the planet Qixnol ("KIKSH-NAWL"), roughly translated, means “please don’t press that again”, in the Andromeda Galaxy, inter-galactic travel has become possible.

So how was this guide created?

Before its quiet and improbable birth, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe had a far more illustrious and chaotic ancestor.

Originally published by the once-prestigious Megadodo Publications, the original Guide was intended as a helpful companion for interstellar travellers—though its accuracy, editorial standards, and general usefulness were often described as “advisory at best.”

For a time, it thrived. Distributed widely across ,then, known space, the Guide became a cultural staple, beloved for its wit, portability, and the reassuring phrase “Don’t Panic,” which appeared prominently on its cover. Behind the scenes, however, Megadodo Publications was less stable than it appeared.

In a move that would later be described as “ill-advised even by galactic standards,” Megadodo was acquired by the vast and deeply opaque Infinidim Enterprises. Officially, the acquisition was positioned as an exciting opportunity to expand the Guide’s reach beyond the Galaxy itself.

Unofficially, it was a takeover orchestrated by the Vogons—whose grasp of publishing was matched only by their talent for administrative misery.

Under Infinidim’s control, the Guide began to change. Its tone shifted, its entries became increasingly erratic, and its purpose grew more ambiguous. Rumours spread that it was being redesigned for audiences not yet identified, in dimensions not yet catalogued, for purposes no one entirely understood.

Then everything went wrong.

Without warning, Infinidim Enterprises was caught in what physicists would later describe (with some reluctance) as a “multi-dimensional tidal wave”, a catastrophic collapse of overlapping realities that swept through several layers of existence simultaneously. Entire divisions of the company vanished in moments, along with their records, assets, and an alarming number of middle managers.

Infinidim Enterprises was lost. Completely. Not relocated, not transformed—simply gone.

The consequences were immediate and severe. The Vogons, who had invested the entirety of their considerable financial resources into Infinidim, found themselves bankrupt overnight. As you can imagine, the notoriously bad-tempered Vogons were not best pleased. Entire departments were subjected to emergency poetry readings of unprecedented length and hostility, and several star systems reported minor disturbances believed to be linked to Vogon frustration.

With the collapse of Infinidim, the Guide itself effectively ceased to exist in any coherent form. Its network fragmented, its data scattered across dimensions, and its future — like its past — became uncertain.

It might have ended there.

However, before the Earth, located in the Milky Way Galaxy, was demolished, William Derekson-Smith, a 43-year-old earthling from Wormington, England, flushed his toilet after his regular morning ablutions and inadvertently triggered a miniature microsecond wormhole, transporting him to Qixnol and, by sheer coincidence, directly into Andibar Drexbox’s living room.

After several months, the two were finally able to communicate well enough for William to explain exactly what happened. After another two months, Andibar was finally able to look William in the eye after learning earthling toilet functions, and started the process of understanding exactly what had occurred.

For Andibar, a scientist of considerable curiosity and only moderate emotional resilience, the implications were staggering. A naturally occurring wormhole — triggered not by advanced technology, but by plumbing — suggested possibilities that defied conventional physics and, frankly, good taste.

Over the next two decades, Andibar dedicated himself to studying the phenomenon. His early experiments were tentative and often deeply unpleasant, but persistence prevailed. Gradually, he refined his techniques, learning to stabilise and replicate the conditions that had brought William to Qixnol.

Twenty years later, Andibar succeeded.

He was able to create small artificial wormholes — controlled, repeatable, and capable of reaching between galaxies. What began as a bizarre accident had become a revolutionary breakthrough.

With this technology, something remarkable became possible: the reconstruction of knowledge across the Milky Way Galaxy and, more significantly, the entire universe.

Fragments of the original Guide — long thought lost in the collapse of Infinidim —began to resurface. Snippets of data, corrupted entries, and half-remembered articles could now be retrieved from distant galaxies and unstable dimensions. It was incomplete, inconsistent, and often deeply confusing — but it was a start.

Recognising the opportunity, Andibar and William embarked on an ambitious project: to rebuild the Guide, not as it was, but as it could be.

Thus began the creation of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe.

Unlike its predecessor, this new Guide would not be confined to a single galaxy, nor controlled by shadowy corporations or disgruntled bureaucrats. It would draw from every reachable corner of existence, compiling knowledge from countless worlds, species, and dimensions.

It would still be occasionally inaccurate. It would still be strangely edited. And it would almost certainly still contain advice of questionable practicality.

But it would endure.

And somewhere, in the background of existence, the Vogons remained deeply, profoundly unhappy about the whole situation.