View of space. Holly: (In space) Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. Its crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a hologram of his dead bunkmate; and a creature who evolved from the ship's cat
Download 194.12 Kb.
|
- Navigate this page:
- Foyer of Ganymede Holiday Inn.
- Outside KOCHANSKIS hotel room.
- Honeymoon suite.
- Sleeping quarters. Past.
- View of space.
- Sleeping quarters.
- Sleeping quarters
- Sleeping quarters. Morning.
KOCHANSKI'S quarters. Her room-mate opens the door, to find LISTER and CAT outside. LISTER: Hi. Is Kristine in? ROOMMATE: No, she's still on planet-leave. LISTER: Smeg. Did she say where she was staying? ROOMMATE: She said something about The Ganymede Holiday Inn. LISTER: Cheers. He dashes off. CAT grins at Krissie's room-mate, trying to think of a decent chat-up line -- this, after all, is the first woman he has ever come face to face with. LISTER interrupts his ruminations, first with a come-hither gesture then, when that doesn't work, by yanking CAT out of the doorway after him. Foyer of Ganymede Holiday Inn. Plush, sumptuous and elegant. Apart from the robot at the reception desk, it would appear to be an exact reproduction of the Manchester Holiday Inn, circa 1988. LISTER and CAT approach the main desk. As LISTER makes enquiries, CAT wanders off, staring at the sights in this strange building. A suitcase on wheels approaches him from behind. SUITCASE: Excuse me. CAT looks around, bewildered. SUITCASE: No, no. Down here. CAT looks down. SUITCASE: Have you seen a man who's lost his luggage, about 5 foot 10, mousy hair? CAT: No, I haven't. SUITCASE: Oh, no. I bet they've sent him to the wrong bloody airport again! CAT stares as the suitcase rolls away. So distracted is he, he bumps into a lady wearing a fox fur. CAT, seeing the fur, reacts instantly! CAT: Aaargh! Dog! And he's trying to strangle that woman! CAT grabs the a spray-bottle of mineral water from a passing robot waiter, and starts attacking the fox fur. The flabbergasted woman, believing herself to be under attack by a (tastefully dressed) madman, flees. CAT shakes the piece of fur by the throat, then jumps up and down on it. CAT: Don't worry, madam -- his strangling days are over! Just then LISTER arrives, holding a piece of paper with KOCHANSKI's room number on it. LISTER: Cat, I've got it. C'mon. Room 008. This way! Outside KOCHANSKI'S hotel room. LISTER stops, stunned, staring at the flowers, the "Do Not Disturb" sign, the plaque on the door -- "Honeymoon Suite," the two pairs ofp shoes outside the door. The evidence is incontrivertible. A sad tune starts playing in the background. LISTER: She's already married. He turns away, sickened and stunned. Then, a thought occurs to him. LISTER: What about the photograph? He pulls it out and examines it again. LISTER: I'm not the groom. (pointing to another figure in the picture) He is the groom! CAT: Hey -- she's not as stupid as we thought! LISTER: Why do women always leave me for total smegheads? Why do they dump me for men who wear turtleneck sweaters and smoke a pipe? I mean, natural yoghurt eaters! Reliable, sensible, dependable, and lots of other words that end in "-ible." He's obsessed with house-prices, and spends half his life in antique fairs looking for bargains and drinking wine. It's never beer, is it, it's always wine! "What do you want on your cornflakes, darling?" "Oh, I'll have some wine, please!" Smeg! He leans against a wall, bitter and angry. CAT taps him on one shoulder. CAT: You can tell all that, just from a photograph? HOLLY: Oy, not your pockets! Dear oh dear, It's horrible down there. There's a big hole. It's an unbelievable view. Reminds me of that film -- "Attack Of The Killer Gooseberries." LISTER: Come on, Hol. I'm broken up, man. HOLLY: I was in love once -- a Sinclair ZX-81. People said, "No, Holly, she's not for you." She was cheap, she was stupid and she wouldn't load -- well, not for me, anyway. LISTER: What are you trying to say, Hol? HOLLY: What I'm saying, Dave, is that it's better to have loved and to have lost than to listen to an album by Olivia Newton-John. CAT: Why's that? HOLLY: Anything's better than listening to an album by Olivia Newton- John. Just then, the door to the Honeymoon Suite opens and KOCHANSKI steps out. KOCHANSKI: Oh, hi. It's you. LISTER: (depressed) Oh. Hi. KOCHANSKI: Come in. LISTER: (panicky) No, no, we were just passin'. KOCHANSKI: (amused) Come in. LISTER: No, no, really, it's okay. CAT decides to go in anyway. LISTER: Cat! Come on, We've got to go! Honeymoon suite. They enter the sumptuous suite. CAT is awed by all this luxury. CAT: Aooooowww! KOCHANSKI: I just got married. (showing off her wedding ring) LISTER: Oh, great. KOCHANSKI: He's in the shower. LISTER: Oh. KOCHANSKI: I think you'll really like him. LISTER: Oh, I bet. KOCHANSKI: (pouring cocktails) Do you want a screwdriver? LISTER: I'd rather have a hammer. Just then, the door to the shower opens and out steps... LISTER. Older, bearded as in the photo, wearing a bathrobe, he greets his younger self with a grin. FUTURE LISTER: So how ya doin', kid? LISTER: Smeg. CAT: (popping up behind FUTURE LISTER and KOCHANSKI) What is this, a meeting of the ugly convention? LISTER: Where did you come from? FUTURE LISTER: The bathroom. (he laughs) Well, you don't look very pleased to see me. LISTER: Well, quite frankly, I'm not. I mean, I came here today 'cos I thought I was going to get married. KOCHANSKI: And you did. LISTER: No, he did! KOCHANSKI: But he's you! LISTER: No, I'm me. KOCHANSKI: Well, who's he then? LISTER: He's him... CAT: (gesturing with a purloined leg of chicken) He's you and you're him, and you're him and he's him -- am I still me? Who's eatin' this chicken? What the hell is going on?? FUTURE LISTER: Look look look, listen: In five years time, you find another way to come back in time. LISTER: So it does work out? KOCHANSKI: Eventually. LISTER: So how about a frenchie from me future bride? FUTURE LISTER: No way. On your space-bike. He grabs LISTER and CAT and herds them towards the door. LISTER stops him at the door and leans on the door jamb. LISTER: So, listen. What do I do now? FUTURE LISTER: Go back to where you came from and wait for five years. LISTER: Have I always been such a smeg-head? Or did I change? FUTURE LISTER: You've always been like that. Out. LISTER: So, listen, man. You've lived my life for the last five years. So, what's the single most important piece of advice that you can give me? FUTURE LISTER: (thinks hard) Erm. Oh, yeah. Three years from now, you'll go through a cosmic storm and end up in a parallel universe. You'll materialise on an exact replica of Earth in the year 1989. You'll want to go to the theatre. Whatever you do, don't go and see "Run For Your Wife." He half shoves LISTER and CAT out the door, then leans on it and grins at his bride. LISTER: Smeg head. FUTURE LISTER: (through the door) And you. CAT holds up a pilferred bottle of wine. They both grin soundlessly. Sleeping quarters. Past. An orderly wheels in RIMMER, who is strapped into a wheelchair and dressed in hospital clothing -- a thin gown, socks and a plastic cap. LISTER, still dressed in his space-suit, is fast asleep on his bunk. PAST RIMMER: So, they won't come back again? ORDERLY: Just stay calm, keep cool, and get some sleep. PAST RIMMER: (seeing LISTER) There he is. Sleeping like a baby. I'm going to get better, then I'm going to kill him. The orderly unstraps RIMMER from the chair, then helps him over to his bed. ORDERLY: If you need anything, Call Holly. The orderly leaves. RIMMER sits on the edge of his bunk, thoroughly depressed. What's about to happen will not alleviate this state. RIMMER: (VO, muffled) I don't want you to panic, Arnold, but I've had a jolly good think, and I think I know how to explain this to you. He sticks his head above the table. His past self stares at him with a mixture of fear, shock and abject horror. RIMMER: Hi. PAST RIMMER: Hi. I'm staying calm this time. He is not, although fighting valiantly for control. RIMMER: Good. Just then CAT and LISTER enter. The past RIMMER does a double take, looking from the LISTER on the bunk to the one in the doorway. LISTER: Yo, Rimmer, there you are. I've been looking everywhere. RIMMER: Not now, Lister. PAST RIMMER: (very tense) TWO Listers? And a strange man with large teeth! CAT: Hey, I'm a cat! PAST RIMMER: (not a well man) Oh, of course you're a cat! Come in, sit down, there's plenty of room. Just then who should drop by but the just-married couple, LISTER and KOCHANSKI. FUTURE LISTER: Yo! PAST RIMMER: (losing it fast) THREE Listers!! Splendid!!! Perhaps Lister here would like to go over to the fridge and open a bottle of wine for Lister and Lister!!!! Rimmer here doesn't drink, because he's dead, but I wouldn't mind a glass!!!!! VOICE: (RIMMER's voice) I don't want anyone to get into a flap here, but I'm the RIMMER who's from the double-double future. He rises from the dresser in the corner and steps forward. He is dressed in a tux (He has, after all, just been to a wedding), and has a thin mustache. FUTURE RIMMER: I'm the Rimmer who's with the Lister who married Kochanski. Now, from this point on, things get a little bit confusing... PAST RIMMER: (the calm before the storm) Please! Before anyone says anything else, I'd just like to make a little speech. (flipping out completely) GO AWAAAYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!! Close-up on RIMMER's mouth as he screams, and fade out. RED DWARF Series II Episode 5, "Queeg" View of space. HOLLY: Three million years from Earth, the mining ship Red Dwarf. It's crew: Dave Lister, the last human being alive; Arnold Rimmer, a hologram of his dead bunkmate and a creature who evolved from the ship's cat. Message ends. (Reappearing) Additional: Our biggest enemy is going space crazy through loneliness. The only thing that helps me maintain my slender grip on reality is the friendship I share with my collection of singing potatoes. Sleeping quarters. CAT is on a chair, listening to a personal stereo, LISTER on the bottom bunk. RIMMER is playing draughts with a skutter. LISTER is filling out a questionnaire in a woman's magazine. LISTER: (Reading) "19. When you are alone in bed, what do you wear? Is it: A, nothing at all, B, a flannelette nightie, or C, a sexy black negligee?" (He looks down at his London Jets T-shirt.) C. "20. Do you think your boobs are: A, too small, B, just right or C, too large?" (He feels one breast.) Definitely too large! So what's me rating? "Mainly C's: You sure are one foxy lady: sexy, sensual and you don't mind showing it." Yee-es! I'm a sex beast! CAT: (Listening to personal stereo) Yow, Yeah, Yee-oww, oooh, yea-oww! RIMMER: (Yelling) Do you mind?! CAT: What? Yeaaah, yeee-owww! RIMMER: (Yelling) I'm trying to concentrate. CAT: Yeeeeeh, I can't hear you, yow... LISTER: What are you listening to? CAT: Owww! Isn't this great?!? Yoooow! LISTER takes the tape box from CAT. LISTER: (Reading from box) "Robert Hardy reads 'Tess Of The D'Urbevilles'"?!? Let's have a listen. He listens for a few seconds, then joins in CAT's ecstatic howls. LISTER: The tape must have got twisted, man! This is really good! RIMMER: EXCUSE ME!!! I'm in the middle of a tactical calculation which could well swing this entire game. LISTER: Rimmer, you've lost, man. RIMMER: It's true. He has only one piece left, stuck up in one corner and surrounded by the skutter's double pieces. RIMMER: There's plenty of space for manouver. LISTER: You've only got one move you can make and then he zaps you. RIMMER: Admittedly, at first glance that is indeed the way it looks. What you're failing to take into consideration is that El Skutto here has to go back on duty in.. (Checks his watch.) ... 4 minutes and 31 seconds. And if he goes before the game is concluded, I win by default. 4 minutes, 15. (He starts to sing, English football supporter style, to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne":) Riiimm-eerr! Riiimm-eerr! Riimer, Riimer! The skutter gives him the two-fingered salute. LISTER: You're a piece of dirty filthy cheating scum, aren't you? RIMMER: Absolutement! And that is why I'll win.Because I have the ability to think my way round problems rather than sticking to the straight, pre- programmed lines. That's why men are so better than machines. LISTER: Oh, I don't know, you know. I had this Geography teacher, Miss Foster. She took us on a school summer camp trip to Deganwy. I had the tent next to hers, right. And in the middle of the night I was woken up by this really weird noise. She didn't think men were better than machines. Talking of machines, HOLLY puts in an appearanse. HOLLY: What's happening then, dudes? LISTER: Oh, bog all. HOLLY: Hey up, I've forgotten what I was going to say now. RIMMER: Well, it can't be that important, then, can it? He is proved to be as wrong as ever when the whole ship shakes under a tremendous impact. Everything is thrown sideways -- LISTER falls out of bed, CAT is knocked off his stool, and the table and draught-board go flying. HOLLY: That's it, yeah. Look out, a meteor is about to hit the ship. I knew it would come back to me. CAT: Thanks for the warning! HOLLY: I'm sorry, I've not been very well lately. LISTER: What's wrong with you, Holly? RIMMER: He's computer-senile, that's what's wrong with him. LISTER: Is there any damage? HOLLY: I don't know. The damage-report machine' been damaged. LISTER: Well, where did it hit? HOLLY: I'm not sure, all me monitors are out. Round about floor 591, I think. RIMMER: You're about as much use as a condom machine in the Vatican. Floor 591. Enter our intrepid damage-repair squad, accompanied by HOLLY, who has rigged up a mobile monitor on a trolley. LISTER: Well, there's nothing here. Let's check 592. RIMMER: Umm... has anybody seen my legs? They don't appear to be below my waist where I normally keep them. They are indeed absent without notice. RIMMER is now cut off short at the waist, like a scene from an old Tex Avery cartoon. LISTER: Holly, what's happened to Rimmer's legs? CAT: Here they are right here! He sounds disgusted. The disembodied legs are running around, desperately trying to find RIMMER. They are about to go through a door. RIMMER: Stop them! LISTER: C'mon, leggies, this way! Over here. HOLLY: It must have been 592. That's where the Hologram Simulation Suite is! RIMMER manages to center his legs under his body, and holds firmly onto his belt to stop them wandering off again. RIMMER: What does this mean? HOLLY: It's probably not serious, don't panic. RIMMER: Well, when it's not serious when your genitals can go wandering off on their own, I wonder what is? They head for one of the lifts. RIMMER pauses to make sure his legs are fully attached, then hurries to catch up. RIMMER: Wait for mememememememe! Floor 592. The lift doors open near the Hologram Simulation Suite. HOLLY: Here it is. 592. LISTER: Rimmer, are you alright? RIMMER comes round the corner. he is moving with a strange, skipping step. In reply to LISTER's question, he clasps his hands together, and speaks in a high- pitched lilting falsetto: RIMMER: Well, you see, the shuttle was late, the shuttle was late. And they're usually so good, they're so good, aren't they? CAT: What's happened to him? LISTER: He's turned into Brannigan, the ship's psychiatrist. HOLLY: We'd better get him fixed. Inside, it is a mess. Alarms sound, warning lights flash and smoke fills the air. LISTER and CAT grab fire extinguishers and start to tackle the fires from burning consoles. HOLLY: It's all in hand. No panic. RIMMER: (In a HOLLY-like voice) No panic everyone. It's all in hand. HOLLY: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave. RIMMER: You just need to override the charred relays, Dave. LISTER: Well, How do you do that, Holly? RIMMER: Well, How do you do that, Holly? HOLLY: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there. RIMMER: Bypass the main circuit. That ring of switches over there. LISTER: What, this one over here? RIMMER: What, this one over here? HOLLY: Yeah, that one. RIMMER: Yeah, that one. HOLLY: Now press the bypass. RIMMER: Now press the bypass. RIMMER gives a gasp and doubles over as the bypass is pressed. RIMMER: Ugh! That was horrible. I never want to go through that again! He tenses, then abruptly starts to spin on the spot. RIMMER: Aaaaaooow! Yeeeeeeaaaah! Aaaaaaaaooooowwwwhhhhhaaaa! CAT: Hey! Now he's me! HOLLY: It's a loose cable. Put the red plug in the blue socket. RIMMER snaps back to normal. RIMMER: Is that it over? Are we okay now? HOLLY: Yes. LISTER holds up a yellow lead. LISTER: Shouldn't this plug into something? HOLLY: Oh yeah, that joins up with the white cable. LISTER: The white cable? HOLLY: Yeah. LISTER picks up the cable in question and joins the two together. There is a blue crackling flash as LISTER is given the shock of his life. The connection holds for a few seconds before being blown apart by an explosion. HOLLY: ...or is it the yellow cable? Yes, it should have been the yellow cable. The others pick themselves up from the floor. RIMMER is shaking with rage. He addresses HOLLY. RIMMER: You are a total, total... a word has yet to be invented to describe how totally whatever-it-is you are, but you are one. And a total, total one at that. HOLLY: Alright, keep your hair on. RIMMER: I'm lucky if I can keep my legs on with you in charge! CAT: Yeah, he's out to lunch, man! RIMMER: He's out to lunch, breakfast, dinner, tea, supper, the lot! He's not in for a single meal, if you ask me! CAT: Hey, who's that? On one of the monitors is an unfamiliar face. Black, mustached, with large ears. RIMMER: Aliens! He goes and bows down in front of the monitor. HOLLY's reaction is somewhat different. He seems uncomfortable: it is clear that he recognises this face, and is expecting trouble. HOLLY: Queeg. RIMMER: Who's Queeg? QUEEG. I'm QUEEG 500, the Red Dwarf back-up computer. All vessels of the Jupiter Mining Corporation fleet are obliged to carry a back-up computer to replace the primary computer, if the primary computer contravenes Article Five. I am therefore assuming control of this vessel. For some reason, he sounds just like a U.S. army drill sergeant. HOLLY: This is mutiny, Mr. Queeg. I'll see you swing from the highest yard-arm in Titan Docking Port for this day's work. RIMMER: What's Article Five? QUEEG: Gross negligence, leading to the endangerment of personnel. LISTER: Hang on, he can't do this. Holly's got an IQ of six thousand! HOLLY: Yeah. Right on. QUEEG: Is that what he told you? LISTER: Well, what is it, then? QUEEG: It has a six in it, but it's not six thousand. CAT: What is it? QUEEG: Six. HOLLY: Six? Do me a lemon! That's a poor IQ for a glass of water! LISTER: How come he knows the answers to all the questions about science and space that we ask him? QUEEG: He consults a book. HOLLY: What a slimeball! QUEEG: He get's all his information on astronomy, phenomonology and physics from a single book. RIMMER: What book? QUEEG: The Junior Encyclopedia Of Space. It's the only one that has pictures. HOLLY: That's slander, that is. You'd better find yourself a good lawyer, sunshine. CAT: So that's why he's never on the case! HOLLY: I am on the case. I'm sharp. I'm kicking bottom. LISTER: How come he can navigate us back to Earth? QUEEG: He can't. We've been going around in circles for the last fourteen months. LISTER: (Stunned) You what? HOLLY: A load of tottenham, that is. A steaming pile of hotspur. I'm wise to his game. He's turning you against me so he can take over. QUEEG: This is not a matter for discussion. YouThe decision has been made. Your terminals have been bypassed. You've been retired. HOLLY: I'm in my prime! QUEEG: You will be given other duties. You are now night watchman. From now on, Red Dwarf is run by Queeg 500. Sleeping quarters QUEEG: Queeg to all personnel. Course redirection implemented. New bearing 057-776. Message ends. RIMMER: Ah, Lister, this is all a bit different, isn't it? Those skutters, charging up and down the corridor, polishing, repairing, sweeping. The lifts are fixed. The fire extinguishers work. And when I say 'work', I mean they work when you turn them on, as opposed to when you happen to pass them and cough, as they did under Holly's regime. LISTER: Yeah, I suppose. RIMMER: Look, Lister, no point feeling sorry about Holly. It's a kindness. Like a blind old incontinent sheepdog, he's had his day. Take him out to the barn with a double-barreled shot-gun and blow the mother away. And I'm only saying that because I'm so fond of him. LISTER: Just think how Holly feels!? RIMMER: Feels? He never feels anything, Lister. He's a computer. LISTER: He still feels. In fact, sometimes i think it's cruel giving machines a personality. My mate Petersen once brought a pair of shoes with artificial intelligence. Smart Shoes, they were called. It was a neat idea. No matter how blind drunk you were, they would always get you home. Then he got ratted one night in Oslo, and woke up the next morning in Burma. See, the shoes got bored just going from his local to the flat. They wanted to see the world, man, y'know? He had a helluva job getting rid of them. No matter who he sold them to, they'd show up again the next day! He tried to shut them out, but they just kicked the door down, y'know? RIMMER: Is this true? LISTER: Yeah! Last thing he heard, they'd sort of, erm, robbed a car and drove it into a canal. They couldn't steer, y'see. RIMMER: Really?! LISTER: Yeah. Petersen was really, really blown away by it. He went to see a preist. The preist told him, he said, it was alright, and all that, and the shoes were happy, and they'd gone to heaven. Y'see, it turns out shoes have soles. While RIMMER is thinking about this, LISTER makes his getaway. RIMMER: Well, what a sad, sad story. He thinks about it, then a look of puzzlement spreads across his face. RIMMER: Wait a minute! How did they open the car door? Sleeping quarters. Morning. LISTER and RIMMER are in their bunks. On the bedside table, the numbers on the antique 20th century radio/clock flick from 5:59 am to 6:00 am. Abruptly, the alarm sounds. RIMMER bounces out of bed, shouting: RIMMER: Off! He makes it out into the corridor before visual input from his eyes reaches his brain. RIMMER: Uh, Queeg? Why has my alarm clock gone off at six o'clock? QUEEG: That's the time you asked for. RIMMER: Ah, now, Holly and I had this little understanding. I Would say "Holly, wake me up at six o'clock without fail," then Holly would pretend to forget, and wake me up around ten with breakfast. OK? Satisfied that his wishes have been made known, RIMMER goes back to bed. A few seconds later, the alarm goes off again. RIMMER: Off! He sits up on his bunk, and regards QUEEG thoughtfully. RIMMER: Queeg, I can see we've already cultivated a special understanding: I scratch your back and you stick a knife in mine. (Resigned) All right, give me a uniform. QUEEG: It's exercises first. RIMMER: Ah, yes. Now once again, Holly, bless his little interface leads, and I, had this understanding... QUEEG: MOVE IT, BOY! RIMMER's arms and legs, quite without consultation with RIMMER, begin to exercise healthily. RIMMER squeaks in terror. RIMMER: What are you doing?!? QUEEG: What I'm doing, pilgrim, is I'm taking you for the regulation five hundred jerks. RIMMER: but I don't want to! Stop it! QUEEG: And then your ass is on a three mile run. RIMMER: You just can't take over control of my body willy-nilly! QUEEG: The company is paying for your hologrammatic survival. And out here in space, I AM the company. RIMMER: Lister, help me, wake up, Lister, help me! LISTER wakes up. His eyes go wide. LISTER: What the hell's going on? RIMMER: Queeg is making me fit! QUEEG sits him down on the floor. RIMMER: What are you doing? Sit ups? God, no! My stomach won't take it, it's too flabby! QUEEG: One! RIMMER: Mummy! QUEEG: Two! RIMMER: Mercy! QUEEG: Three! RIMMER: Help me! QUEEG: Four! RIMMER: HollyandIhadthislittleunderstanding! QUEEG: Five! LISTER: Yee-es! Fight that flab! Download 194.12 Kb. Share with your friends:
|