Red Dwarf: David Lister - 010: Years
Title: Years
Fandom: Red Dwarf
Characters: David Lister, Arnold Judas Rimmer, Kryten, Holly
Prompt: 010: Years
Word Count: 1104
Rating: G
Summary: Rimmer discovers something disturbing about the nature of his holographic existence.
Author's Notes: No spoilers AFAIK.
Table is here.
“Look at him,” Rimmer snorted, as he and Kryten watched the near comatose Lister mumbling incoherently on the table in the medi-bay. “It’s disgusting.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir?” Kryten asked, busying himself with the array of scanners and monitors surrounding Lister’s head.
“Well, look!” Rimmer gestured at the sleeping form, his arms flailing. “Pushing thirty and he thinks he’s still a teenager.”
Kryten found himself wishing, for a brief moment, that he had an eyebrow to raise. “He’s only 27 and one quarter, Sir.” He paused. “Life signs normal. Alcohol levels stabilizing.”
Rimmer snorted. “I ask you. Nearly middle-aged, and he tries to pull a stunt like that. Crazy! He’s lucky to be alive, a man his age.”
“With respect, Sir, you are older than him.”
“With respect” Rimmer said, copying Kryten’s voice, “Kryten, I wasn’t the one who attempted to drink GELF hooch on an empty stomach.”
“S’cuzhy’kn…t. Cuz… Cuz y’cn’t.” Lister suggested. “Y’re a… Tngy. Gram.”
“Yes, quite,” Rimmer said cheerfully. “Point well made, I believe?” He turned towards Kryten, who was shaking his head. “Besides, I won’t be for long.”
Kryten finished injecting Lister with a generous dose of iridescent yellow liquid, and patted the now sleeping human’s head. Suddenly what Rimmer had said struck home. “What do you mean, you won’t be for long?”
“Older than him!” There was a triumphant grimace on Rimmer’s face, the closest he generally got to an actual smile. “At least there’s one upside to being a, what was it, ah yes; ‘thingy-gram’ - you stop getting older. I’ll be looking a swarthy 30 for the rest of my…” he paused, considering, “…Death, I suppose, whereas he’ll grow old and frail and senile.” He patted his “H” with a lanky finger. “This is my passport to eternal good looks!”
Kryten coughed politely, discreetly entering smug-mode. “I’m afraid that’s not entirely true, Sir. Holograms can and do age.”
“Oh?” Said Rimmer, still grinning. “Surely it’s not necessary for a hologram to age?” The corners of his mouth were twitching slightly.
“Not for privately owned holograms, no. Obviously, if you are rich enough to be able to afford the outrageous cost of computer equipment and power necessary to project your holographic image for the rest of perpetuity, you would be rather miffed, to say the least, if it turned out you would have to live most of that time as a withered, pathetic shell of your former self.”
Rimmer swallowed. His eyes darted around the room, nervously. “Withered… Pathetic shell?”
Kryten walked over to where Rimmer was standing, and, since he could not wrap an arm supportively around his immaterial shoulders, settled for giving him what he hoped was a suitably re-assuring smile. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Sir, but the Jupiter Mining Corporation chose to imbue their holographic projection units with aging add-ons.”
“What?” Rimmer’s composure finally let go and ran for the hills. “You mean they specifically made it so their holograms would age? That’s preposterous!”
“Not to their way of thinking, Sir. I believe their reasoning went thus; if a hologrammatic member, serving alongside the rest of the crew did not age, this would affect morale.”
“Morale? How?”
“Well, for one thing, it would emphasize the fact that they were no longer alive; that they were different from the other crew members.” Kryten fidgeted with a portable medical monitor which he had linked up to the machines surrounding Lister.
“What? They’d be DEAD, how much more different can you get?” Rimmer spluttered.
“I am merely telling you what their records state, Sir. I am afraid I do not know the background for their reasoning. Furthermore, they feared that some of the living crew might become envious of their hologrammatic ship-mates, and attempt suicide in order to attain eternal youth.”
“But… But they’d be dead,” Rimmer protested, the memory of his own stolen moments spent in stasis so he could save time and look slightly younger than his contemporaries painfully present at the back of his mind.
“Again, Sir, this is just what the Jupiter Mining Corporation has stated officially. I cannot tell you why they reasoned as they did. At any rate, this means that you have, and will indeed continue to age as you would have naturally as the years go by.”
Rimmer remained silent. He was looking at Lister. That intolerable git. He looked so young; so impossibly young! Rimmer had seen some of the pictures he had shown the Cat; Lister didn’t seem to have changed since his school years. Rimmer knew people like that. He’d had a great aunt once who’d lived to be 104. She’d looked barely sixty. Everyone had hated her. Rimmer’s mother, who had been started going grey in her late twenties, had once thrown a shoe at her when she’d come visiting.
On the table, Lister shifted in his sleep. From this angle, in this light, he looked barely out of his teens. Strong, healthy-looking, despite his insane diet, almost appealing. Rimmer shook the thought away. He knew Lister would grow old eventually; they’d seen it in a future echo. But how old had he been? By the time he’d look like that, what would Rimmer be? Reduced to a sentient pile of ashes? Rimmer clenched his knuckles so hard they hurt. “Holly,” he shouted, “is this true?”
“’fraid so, Arnold,” Holly said, materializing on a screen above the door. There was a slight smirk on her face.
“Well…” Rimmer faltered, “…Well… Can’t you change it?”
She shrugged, in as much as a disembodied head could shrug. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m going to deteriorate into nothingness, and you’re saying there’s nothing you can do?”
“Happens to the best of us.” Holly noted. “You don’t see Dave or the Cat complaining. Everyone grows old. That’s the way of things, innit?”
“Not AFTER you have DIED,” Rimmer yelled, trying to bang both his fists on the table in front of him, thus loosing his footing when his arms fell straight through it. Having lost all sense of balance, he tumbled through the room, falling through machinery, his light-bee navigating expertly around the objects, allowing his image to appear undisrupted. Finally coming to a rest near the corner, he collected himself, brushed some imaginary dust off his uniform, and strode out, keeping up the pretense that his dignity was still intact.
Kryten watched the hologram leave, then turned his attention to Holly. “Why didn’t you tell him that the process re-sets to his time-of-death age every thirty years?” he said reproachfully.
Holly merely blinked, her face deadpan as always. “He didn’t ask.”
Fandom: Red Dwarf
Characters: David Lister, Arnold Judas Rimmer, Kryten, Holly
Prompt: 010: Years
Word Count: 1104
Rating: G
Summary: Rimmer discovers something disturbing about the nature of his holographic existence.
Author's Notes: No spoilers AFAIK.
Table is here.
“Look at him,” Rimmer snorted, as he and Kryten watched the near comatose Lister mumbling incoherently on the table in the medi-bay. “It’s disgusting.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir?” Kryten asked, busying himself with the array of scanners and monitors surrounding Lister’s head.
“Well, look!” Rimmer gestured at the sleeping form, his arms flailing. “Pushing thirty and he thinks he’s still a teenager.”
Kryten found himself wishing, for a brief moment, that he had an eyebrow to raise. “He’s only 27 and one quarter, Sir.” He paused. “Life signs normal. Alcohol levels stabilizing.”
Rimmer snorted. “I ask you. Nearly middle-aged, and he tries to pull a stunt like that. Crazy! He’s lucky to be alive, a man his age.”
“With respect, Sir, you are older than him.”
“With respect” Rimmer said, copying Kryten’s voice, “Kryten, I wasn’t the one who attempted to drink GELF hooch on an empty stomach.”
“S’cuzhy’kn…t. Cuz… Cuz y’cn’t.” Lister suggested. “Y’re a… Tngy. Gram.”
“Yes, quite,” Rimmer said cheerfully. “Point well made, I believe?” He turned towards Kryten, who was shaking his head. “Besides, I won’t be for long.”
Kryten finished injecting Lister with a generous dose of iridescent yellow liquid, and patted the now sleeping human’s head. Suddenly what Rimmer had said struck home. “What do you mean, you won’t be for long?”
“Older than him!” There was a triumphant grimace on Rimmer’s face, the closest he generally got to an actual smile. “At least there’s one upside to being a, what was it, ah yes; ‘thingy-gram’ - you stop getting older. I’ll be looking a swarthy 30 for the rest of my…” he paused, considering, “…Death, I suppose, whereas he’ll grow old and frail and senile.” He patted his “H” with a lanky finger. “This is my passport to eternal good looks!”
Kryten coughed politely, discreetly entering smug-mode. “I’m afraid that’s not entirely true, Sir. Holograms can and do age.”
“Oh?” Said Rimmer, still grinning. “Surely it’s not necessary for a hologram to age?” The corners of his mouth were twitching slightly.
“Not for privately owned holograms, no. Obviously, if you are rich enough to be able to afford the outrageous cost of computer equipment and power necessary to project your holographic image for the rest of perpetuity, you would be rather miffed, to say the least, if it turned out you would have to live most of that time as a withered, pathetic shell of your former self.”
Rimmer swallowed. His eyes darted around the room, nervously. “Withered… Pathetic shell?”
Kryten walked over to where Rimmer was standing, and, since he could not wrap an arm supportively around his immaterial shoulders, settled for giving him what he hoped was a suitably re-assuring smile. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Sir, but the Jupiter Mining Corporation chose to imbue their holographic projection units with aging add-ons.”
“What?” Rimmer’s composure finally let go and ran for the hills. “You mean they specifically made it so their holograms would age? That’s preposterous!”
“Not to their way of thinking, Sir. I believe their reasoning went thus; if a hologrammatic member, serving alongside the rest of the crew did not age, this would affect morale.”
“Morale? How?”
“Well, for one thing, it would emphasize the fact that they were no longer alive; that they were different from the other crew members.” Kryten fidgeted with a portable medical monitor which he had linked up to the machines surrounding Lister.
“What? They’d be DEAD, how much more different can you get?” Rimmer spluttered.
“I am merely telling you what their records state, Sir. I am afraid I do not know the background for their reasoning. Furthermore, they feared that some of the living crew might become envious of their hologrammatic ship-mates, and attempt suicide in order to attain eternal youth.”
“But… But they’d be dead,” Rimmer protested, the memory of his own stolen moments spent in stasis so he could save time and look slightly younger than his contemporaries painfully present at the back of his mind.
“Again, Sir, this is just what the Jupiter Mining Corporation has stated officially. I cannot tell you why they reasoned as they did. At any rate, this means that you have, and will indeed continue to age as you would have naturally as the years go by.”
Rimmer remained silent. He was looking at Lister. That intolerable git. He looked so young; so impossibly young! Rimmer had seen some of the pictures he had shown the Cat; Lister didn’t seem to have changed since his school years. Rimmer knew people like that. He’d had a great aunt once who’d lived to be 104. She’d looked barely sixty. Everyone had hated her. Rimmer’s mother, who had been started going grey in her late twenties, had once thrown a shoe at her when she’d come visiting.
On the table, Lister shifted in his sleep. From this angle, in this light, he looked barely out of his teens. Strong, healthy-looking, despite his insane diet, almost appealing. Rimmer shook the thought away. He knew Lister would grow old eventually; they’d seen it in a future echo. But how old had he been? By the time he’d look like that, what would Rimmer be? Reduced to a sentient pile of ashes? Rimmer clenched his knuckles so hard they hurt. “Holly,” he shouted, “is this true?”
“’fraid so, Arnold,” Holly said, materializing on a screen above the door. There was a slight smirk on her face.
“Well…” Rimmer faltered, “…Well… Can’t you change it?”
She shrugged, in as much as a disembodied head could shrug. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? I’m going to deteriorate into nothingness, and you’re saying there’s nothing you can do?”
“Happens to the best of us.” Holly noted. “You don’t see Dave or the Cat complaining. Everyone grows old. That’s the way of things, innit?”
“Not AFTER you have DIED,” Rimmer yelled, trying to bang both his fists on the table in front of him, thus loosing his footing when his arms fell straight through it. Having lost all sense of balance, he tumbled through the room, falling through machinery, his light-bee navigating expertly around the objects, allowing his image to appear undisrupted. Finally coming to a rest near the corner, he collected himself, brushed some imaginary dust off his uniform, and strode out, keeping up the pretense that his dignity was still intact.
Kryten watched the hologram leave, then turned his attention to Holly. “Why didn’t you tell him that the process re-sets to his time-of-death age every thirty years?” he said reproachfully.
Holly merely blinked, her face deadpan as always. “He didn’t ask.”