sample5.txt

dbacl是一个通用目的的digramic贝叶斯文本分类器。它可以学习你提供的文本

The Improbability-proof control cabin of the Heart of Gold looked like a
perfectly conventional spaceship except that it was perfectly clean because it
was so new. Some of the control seats hadn't had the plastic wrapping taken off
yet. The cabin was mostly white, oblong, and about the size of a smallish
restaurant. In fact it wasn't perfectly oblong: the two long walls were raked
round in a slight parallel curve, and all the angles and corners were contoured
in excitingly chunky shapes. The truth of the matter is that it would have been
a great deal simpler and more practical to build the cabin as an ordinary
three-dimensional oblong rom, but then the designers would have got miserable.
As it was the cabin looked excitingly purposeful, with large video screens
ranged over the control and guidance system panels on the concave wall, and
long banks of computers set into the convex wall. In one corner a robot sat
humped, its gleaming brushed steel head hanging loosely between its gleaming
brushed steel knees. It too was fairly new, but though it was beautifully
constructed and polished it somehow looked as if the various parts of its more
or less humanoid body didn't quite fit properly. In fact they fitted perfectly
well, but something in its bearing suggested that they might have fitted
better.

Zaphod Beeblebrox paced nervously up and down the cabin, brushing his hands
over pieces of gleaming equipment and giggling with excitement.

Trillian sat hunched over a clump of instruments reading off figures. Her voice
was carried round the Tannoy system of the whole ship.

``Five to one against and falling ...'' she said, ``four to one against and
falling ... three to one ... two ... one ... probability factor of one to one
... we have normality, I repeat we have normality.'' She turned her microphone
off --- then turned it back on, with a slight smile and continued: ``Anything
you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem. Please relax. You will
be sent for soon.''

Zaphod burst out in annoyance: ``Who are they Trillian?''

Trillian span her seat round to face him and shrugged.

``Just a couple of guys we seem to have picked up in open space,'' she said.
``Section ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha.''

``Yeah, well that's a very sweet thought Trillian,'' complained Zaphod, ``but
do you really think it's wise under the circumstances? I mean, here we are on
the run and everything, we must have the police of half the Galaxy after us by
now, and we stop to pick up hitch hikers. OK, so ten out of ten for style, but
minus several million for good thinking, yeah?''

He tapped irritably at a control panel. Trillian quietly moved his hand before
he tapped anything important. Whatever Zaphod's qualities of mind might include
--- dash, bravado, conceit --- he was mechanically inept and could easily blow
the ship up with an extravagant gesture. Trillian had come to suspect that the
main reason why he had had such a wild and successful life that he never really
understood the significance of anything he did.

``Zaphod,'' she said patiently, ``they were floating unprotected in open space
... you wouldn't want them to have died would you?''

``Well, you know ... no. Not as such, but ...''

``Not as such? Not die as such? But?'' Trillian cocked her head on one side.

``Well, maybe someone else might have picked them up later.''

``A second later and they would have been dead.''

``Yeah, so if you'd taken the trouble to think about the problem a bit longer
it would have gone away.''

``You'd been happy to let them die?''

``Well, you know, not happy as such, but ...''

``Anyway,'' said Trillian, turning back to the controls, ``I didn't pick them
up.''

``What do you mean? Who picked them up then?''

``The ship did.''