by Ganymede & Titan

Series V - Back to Reality - All scenes


(KRYTEN ON RADIO) Mr Rimmer, sir, we've located
the black box terminal. You should be getting something now.

Confirmed. Ident details -
SSS Esperanto. Ocean seeding ship.

Mission to introduce oceanic life
to potential S3 planets.

This was a recon trip.
A three-year check, strictly routine,

to make sure the amino acid chain had taken.

(RIMMER) They'd been trying out some new enhancement
technique to accelerate the evolutionary process.

Topped even their best projections.

They got five million years of evolution
in three solar years.

- So what happened?

Final entry - routine stuff. They spent the day
cataloguing and indexing new life forms.

- Then it stops.
- The question which occurs:

If this ocean is supposed to be teeming with new lifeforms, where are they all?

- What are you implying, Kryten?
- No implication intended, sir.

Yes, there is. You're saying there's
some huge damn fish out there, aren't you?

Some kind of gigantic, weird pre-historic Leviathan
who's porked its way through this entire ocean.

- That is one option.
- Any alternatives?

- None that occur.
- Hey, wait a minute. I've got it.

- Don't fish swim south for the winter?
- No, that's birds, sir.

Birds swim south for the winter?
How do they breathe?


Rimmer, you getting this?

Got it. It looks like Norman Bates's mum.

Human, male, Caucasian.

Cause of death - gunshot wound to the head.
From the entry and exit wounds, most likely self-inflicted.

(CAT) Here's another one!

- Two suicides?
- (CAT) There's more!

Oh, male. Oriental.
Clearly, he committed seppuku.

Hey! Look what I found.

Species - unknown. Similar to Earth haddock.

Cause of death - suffocation. What?

- (RIMMER) What is it?
- This fish suffocated in water.

It voluntarily closed its own gills.

Are you saying
this haddock committed suicide?

I'm merely stating the known facts.

This fish relinquished its life
of its own free will. Damn fool!

Why would a haddock kill itself?

Why am I even asking that question?

Hold on. Hang five, guys.
I'm getting something.

He committed suicide, he committed suicide,

he committed suicide
and the fish committed suicide.

There's some kind of link here that I can't put my finger on.

Hang on a minute, guys. Check this.

- It's an unknown compound.

Best guess, some sort of hallucinogenic
venom secreted by a piscine source,

not unlike the Earth octopus or giant squid.

- This is octopus ink?
- I'm just completing a chemical analysis.

- Oh. Er...
- What?

- (KRYTEN) Come on, sir. We have to go.
- What's happening?

- We have to go!
- Kryten, what's going on?

- Entering air lock.
- Repressurising now.

Some kind of sea creature, a life form we've
never encountered before, attacked this ship.

Its defence mechanism is a curious one.
It secretes a venom, a poison,

possibly even an hallucinogenic, which
disfunctions its prey by inducing despair.

That's why the crew members
and even that fish had committed suicide.

Unfortunately, we have been contaminated.

It's a greatly reduced dose
but we may experience (SOBS) moments...

..of despair and anguish.

What about Lister and the Cat?

I'm OK. I don't seem to be affected.

It's true, I don't think anyone's loved me
in my entire life,

but there's nothing new about that.

What's gotten into you, guys?
It's like Saturday night at The Wailing Wall.

Why is it always me that has to be the strong one?

(SOBS) Without me, you guys would just fall apart.

We should get back as soon as we can and take
a mood stabiliser. I suggest lithium carbonate.

(RIMMER) I know, emotionally, this isn't the news you want to hear right now,

but there's a blob on the sonar scope the size
of New Mexico and it's heading your way.

I think our friend the Suicide Squid
is about to make an appearance.

- (KRYTEN) Where is it precisely?
- Directly above you, about 2,000 fathoms and diving.

(LISTER, SOBBING) Oh, thanks a lot, Rimmer. You know the
state we're in, you have to go and give us news like that?

- You couldn't have lied?
- I was lying. It's only 1,000 fathoms.

We're entering Starbug's airlock now.


What's it doing?

It's trying to work out
what we are. Cut the power.

This venom, are we safe in here?

It penetrated the hull of a
Class D Space Corps Seeding Ship.

In comparison, we're a sardine tin.

- It's moving.
- Where?

- Down.
- Speed?

- 15 knots... 16... 18...
- It's diving.

- Course?
- Collision.

- Do we move or stay?
- 25 knots... 35... 50...

It's coming straight for us.

There's only three alternatives, it thinks
we're either a threat, food or a mate.

It's gonna either kill us, eat us or hump us.

We either persuade him that we're not that kind
of oceanic salvage vessel or we scarper pronto.

To be diddled by a giant squid on a first date? Think how we'd feel in the morning.

OK, we're going to try and outrun it.
Holly, hit the power and give me manual.


Change bearing, one zero five. There's some
natural caverns about three klicks away.

- It might give us some cover.
- That's a yo, Holly. New course set.


- It's hit us!
- Look out!

(COMPUTER) For the last four years. You have been engaged
in the Total Immersion Video Game "Red Dwarf"

As with all role-playing adventures,

you will experience a certain amount
of disorientation on leaving the game.

It will be several minutes
before your real-life memories return.

So, in the meantime, please disengage
the game-playing machinery and relax

until an attendant is free
to answer any of your questions.

On behalf of Leisure World International,
may we be the first to say welcome back to reality.

This is a very, very bad dream, right?

- I'm not a hologram.
- I'm half human.

What the hell's happened to my teeth?!

I can open beer bottles with my overbite.

All right lads. How you feeling?

Bit wonky? it's perfectly normal.
You'll be as right as rain in 20 minutes.

So, if you could just move into the recuperation lounge,
I can get things ready for the next lot.

- The next lot?
- Yeah, it's a very popular game is Red Dwarf.

It's got a two-year waiting list.
We've only got 20 machines.

- So, how'd you get killed, then?
- Some kind of squid.

The Despair Squid? There's no
way that should have killed you.

Why didn't you use the
laser cannons? It's obvious!

Starbug doesn't - didn't -
have a laser cannon capability.

You twonk! You use the laser cannons
on the crashed wotsit... Esperanto.

That's how you get out of it.

How were we suppoed to
know that, you Brummie git?

Esperanto. That's a clue, isn't it?

Esperanto - hope.
Hope defeats despair, the Despair Squid.

It's a blatant clue, isn't it? Blatant.

Bloomin' heck, if you didn't get that, you must have been playing like puddings!

Which one was playing Lister, then?

- Me.
- Did you get Kochanski?

Was I supposed to?

Supposed to? That's the objective
of the game for Lister, you twonk.

You get separated to begin with. Then basically, it's
a love story across time, space, death and reality.

You must have got the easy stuff, though. 'Ere, what did
you think about the planet of the nymphomaniacs?

- The planet of the what?!
- What? You missed that? Oh! That's a riot, that is.

Some people spend years on that.

Which one was Rimmer?

- Me.
- Oh, he's amazing, ain't he?

- You can say that again.
- How long did it take for you to sus him out, then?

- I had him sussed right from the beginning.
- What, really?

You found the Captain's message right away?

What Captain's message?

The one that's hidden in the microdot
in the 'i' in Rimmer's swimming certificate.

That's the clue, isn't it? - Rimmer having a swimming
certificate and not being able to swim.

- That's a clue?
- It's a blatant clue, isn't it?!

- A blatant clue to what?
- A blatant clue to the truth behind Rimmer.

- What truth?
- The truth to why he's such an insufferable prat.

That's because of his parents, his upbringing,
his background. The fact he was never loved.

- No, no, no.
- Yes, yes, yes.


- What. Was it. Then?
- He was a hand-picked special agent for the Space Corps.

He had his memory erased and was
programmed to act like a complete twonk.

So no-one would suspect he was on a secret mission to destroy Red Dwarf, in order to guide Lister to his destiny as creator of the Second Universe.

- You what?!
- Yeah.

You know that bit when Lister jump-starts the Second
Big Bang with jump leads from Starbug?

Jump starts the Second Big Bang?!

Well, that's the final irony isn't it? Lister, the ultimate
atheist, turns out, in fact, to be God.

You what?!

It was all in the Captain's
message. It was all in the microdot.

Ey, hang on a minute. Are you...?

Are you seriously telling me you were playing the prat
version of Rimmer for all this time! For four years?!

Oh-ho! Whoa, that's a classic, that is.
That's a classic.

All right, lads. Which one's Lister?

Right. Got your food bag, bio-feedback,
catheter... It's all there.

You can start plugging yourself in.

Here, whatever you do, don't confuse
the food pipe up with the catheter, will you?

Some bloke did that, we didn't spot it
for two days. OK, Kryten. In you go, son.

OK, Cat, Rimmer...
Give us a bit of room here will you, please, chaps?

Well, where do we go? We don't know who we are.
Our memories haven't returned yet.

The re-cup-er-a-tion lounge.
I keep telling you!

No wonder you only scored four per cent.

Cor! What a bunch of twonks.

I'm not Lister, then. I'm not me, am I?

None of us are who we thought we were, sir.
This is going to take some getting used to.

- I'm not Rimmer, then?
- No.

I'm not a hologram. I'm not Rimmer.

Well, if we're not who we thought
we were, who the hell are we?

The kind of sad acts who wanna spend
four years playing a computer game.

Either running away from God knows what
or we've got nothing worth living for in the first place.

- Is there a Duane Dibbley here?
- Pardon?

- Duane Dibbley?
- No, sorry.

Wait a minute. How do you know there's no one
called Duane Dibbley in here? It could be you.

No, this is right. Dibbley, this is the Dibbley party.
Which one's Duane Dibbley?

No. No, no, please, no!
I don't want to be Duane Dibbley.

It's you. Here are your party's clothes and possessions.
The medical officer will be down in 20 minutes.

Duane Dibbley? How can I be called Duane Dibbley?

It's true. It's got your photograph,
name, address on it and everything.

There's an anorak in here!

White socks... nylon shirt...

plastic sandals... Aertex vest...

cardigan... oh, and a key
to the Salvation Army hostel.

It doesn't make sense.

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid
it makes perfect sense...


Imagine a guy
with no ?lan, no style - a misfit.

Doesn't it just make total
sense that this hapless creature

would give his buck teeth to play
someone like the Cat in a computer game?

So this is really me?

A no-style gimbo with teeth the druids
could use as a place of worship?!

Kryten, open the next one.

Listen, whoever you are,

don't push your luck
by ordering whoever I am around.

Because almost
certainly, whoever I am,

I'm not the kind of guy who's going to
take any crap from whoever you are.

So before you start ordering me around, let's establish if
I'm the kind of guy who doesn't mind being ordered around,

or if I'm the kind of guy who gets all uptight being
ordered around by whatever the kind of guy you are. Clear?

All I said was,
Open the next one.

- All right, this one's you.
- Oh. Who am I?

Wow! You're a detective

in the Cybernautic Division
of the police department.

Oh... ha... Golly. Really?

- Yeah. This is your badge.
- A detective, huh? What's my name?

Jake. Jake Bullet.

Jake Bullet, Cybernautic Detective. I like that.

That sounds
like the kind of hard-living flatfoot

who gets the job done by cutting
corners and bucking authority.

And if those pen-pushers up
at City Hall don't like it,

they can park their overpaid
fat asses on this mid-digit

and swivel, swivel till they squeal
like pigs on a honeymoon!

On the other hand, Mr Bullet, perhaps the
Cybernautics Division is in charge of traffic control,

and you just happen to have a rather silly macho name.

Oh, yes. That's a good point, sir.
I didn't think of that.

Duane Dibbley?

So, whoever you are, who's next?

- I don't want to know. Someone else look.
- Stand aside. Let the law handle this.

Hmm... No photograph. Name - Billy Doyle.

Not necessarily. It's not necessarily me.

Billy Doyle. Well, that's a name that came
from the wrong side of the tracks, isn't it?

You can see it all now - a youth spent
in and out of corrective institutions,

a string of illegitimate children,

the wife will be all white shoes,
no tights and blotchy legs,

has to take up petty crime to cover the
court orders for maintenance.

Before he knows it, he's standing
in a bank with a sawn-off shotgun.

Somehow it goes off. An old lady gets both
barrels through a crocheted bobble hat.

All he can do is hide.
But where? And then it hits him.

With his ill-gotten gains he can buy four years
in a computer game, and wait 'til the heat's off.

So ends the ballad
of Billy "Granny Killer" Doyle.

It's yours.

- What?
- It's yours... Bill.

- No.
- Check the ugly mug on the ID, then, man.

William Doyle.

William Doyle. Good ol Bill Doyle.

You know that sounds like
a hell of a good name to me.

Probably connected with the Boston Doyles.
Old money, blue-chip stock.

You know, I think it's all
coming back to me now.

What puzzles me slightly is what a
man of such undoubted good breeding

would be doing wearing a coat
that smells like an elderly make yak

that has taken a leak
in both the pockets.

- Well, isn't it obvious?
- No, it isn't.

Oh, my God. My name is Billy Doyle
and my cologne is Eau de Yak Urine.

So who am I, then?