The dungeon left a lot to be desired. It was probably six-by-six feet wide, but with a surprisingly high ceiling. It was made up of cinderblocks, with only a small window with iron bars in the far wall. Beneath that was a bed with a rotting old mattress with bare springs and bits of fluff sticking out. The pillow had turned an odd gray color, and the blanket was getting rather threadbare, but at the moment it was more than enough for the man using it, huddled beneath it, shaking slightly.

The large wooden door opened with a loud squeak, and Lister, Cat and Kryten were all shoved inside by the guards, who then slammed it shut again behind them, making a loud noise in the process, but this didn't disturb the previous occupant, who just sat there, shaking slightly some more.

The trio turned around towards the bed and saw the huddle on the bed. Lister reached forward carefully and gently removed the blanket from over the prisoner's head, revealing a mess of unruly curly brown locks.

"Rimmer?" Lister asked incredulously, looking at the hologram in the blue quilted jacket in bewilderment.

Cat grinned. "Smell checks out. That truly is old toilet-brush hair himself!"

But Rimmer looked terrible. He had dark circles beneath his eyes, which twitched uncontrollably. His hands were shaking as he reached out with an exploratory finger, pointing at Lister with a lightheaded look in his eyes.

"Of course, I remember…," he said deliriously. "Custer! Derek Custer! Kit! Titan!" he added, looking at Cat and Kryten as well.

"What's happened to him, bud?"

"Mr. Rimmer's psyche is still rather tormented from the heart attack, sir. His grip on his sanity must be loser than a pro-golfer's belt."

"But what are you doing in a cell, man?" Lister asked.

Rimmer's crazed eyes turned sad. "Can you imagine a society composed entirely of me?" he asked tiredly.

Cat shifted uncomfortably. "I'm trying not to. The last time I did that it took a week to dry the mattress."

Rimmer shook his head, dismayed. "Thousands upon thousands of back-stabbing treacherous hypocritical cowardly slime-mongering Judases. They overthrew me. They said I deviated too far from the template. They said I wasn't a true Rimmer anymore, so they locked me in here so I could never threaten their insane lust for power…," he explained mournfully.

"You deviate too far from the template?" Lister asked, trying not to sound too surprised.

"Look, bud," Cat interrupted. "I can understand them locking you up, but what have they got against me, Derek and Titan?"

"Anyone who deviates from the template is reviled. The smallest physical flaw and they're banished from society, and anyone who displays behavior deemed out of character or un-Rimmer-like is punished by death."

Lister couldn't help his smirk. "Is that why no one on the planet is brave, sexy, noble or charming?"

Rimmer shook his head dismally. "All crimes here."

Cat whistled. "Man, I must be Public Enemy numbers one, two and three!"

Kryten thought this a good time to butt in. "Sir, time is of the essence. We must help you to regain conscious. Is there anything here that might represent the antidote to your heart attack?"

"Heart attacks can't be cured. You just have to live with the aftereffects," Rimmer reminded him.

"In human terms, that would be true, sir. However, you are a hologram, and holograms are run by software. We simply need to initiate the reboot system from here. We can restart your systems without any loss of memory data. We just need to find a clue."

They stood in silence, looking down at the poor defeated man wrapped in the blanket. He was clearly trying to get through his delirium and think of something. Then his eyes widened and he said two words: "The balls."

Lister cocked an eyebrow in confusion. "Eh?"

Rimmer dug into the depths of his blanket and pulled out two Chinese Worry Balls. "The Chinese Worry Balls," he explained, holding them up for all to see.

Kryten took the balls in his hands and examined them closely. "Sir, this is it! Just grind these balls, sir, and maybe this will initiate the reboot program."

"Why didn't you use those to begin with?" Lister asked.

"I just thought they were here to taunt me. My mind's been so foggy since I got here I've barely been able to comprehend my surroundings. I feel like a hippy who just donated blood," Rimmer replied, taking the balls back in wonder.

Cat sighed. "Well, fun though this has been, shouldn't the rest of us be making skedaddle plans?"

"Oh, yes, sir, don't grind those balls until we've gotten out of here. If you initiate the reboot program with us inside, our real selves might be permanently traumatized and rendered brain dead faster than a Canadian can buy maple syrup," Kryten added urgently.

Lister began to examine the cell. "Well, don't worry, guys," he said determinedly. "There's got to be a way out. There hasn't been a prison built that could hold Derek Custer. Why don't we scrape away this mortar here, slide one of these bricks out, then using a rope weaved from strands of his blanket, rig up a kind of pulley system so that when a guard comes in, using it as a trip wire, gets laid out, and we put Rimmer in the guard's uniform, he leads us out, we steal some swords and fight our way to freedom!"

Kryten nodded contemplatively. "Or we could exit the program," he pointed out.

Lister stared at the mech and cursed inwardly. He really needed to curb this weird action-hero instinct he was developing. "Or, at a pinch, we could exit the program," he said at last.

Lister, Cat and Kryten all clapped their hands and vanished from the cell in a flash.

Rimmer stared at the spot in wonder, and then he glanced at the balls in his hands. He mentally crossed his fingers and took them firmly in his grasp. "Come on, balls, don't fail me now," he whispered.

And he began to grind them. He ground them and ground them as tightly as he could. He began to feel warmth coming from them. The more he ground them, the warmer they got, and then he noticed that they were beginning to glow white in his hands. Through his fingers spouted rays of light, emanating from the balls.

Hoping that this was the desired result, Rimmer squeezed a little harder.

And in a flash, he was gone.

Back in reality, Lister, Cat and Kryten were removing the masks, gloves and boots when they noticed the display on the screens change before them.

"What's all that mean?" Cat asked.

"It's working!" Kryten exclaimed. "Mr. Rimmer is doing it!"

Lister felt so relieved he couldn't help but make a crack. "That's a phrase you don't hear very often," he chuckled.

Kryten waddled out of the AR console and over towards the wooden stool upon which Rimmer's light sat. He began to remove the wires from it, and after taking a cue from a screen on the wall, snapped the casing shut and pressed a minute button on the side. Then he stood back to give him some room.

The light bee began to float unsteadily into the air, hovering above the stool. A strange light pattern began to exude from the tiny projection device, like a concentrated flurry of snowflakes, all taking on various colors, forming together into the image of a man wearing a blue quilted uniform, black trousers and strong boots, but the body was blank white and featureless, as the personality had yet to be downloaded.

Lister always got goose bumps watching a hologram getting simulated, even if it was only Rimmer. It was always quite a show.

"Downloading personality traits and memory data," Kryten announced, keeping an eye on the screen as various colored bars shrank down on the display, like liquid being poured into a vial.

And then the face began to take form. The white glowing entity took on the usual pasty bony features of Arnold J Rimmer. Those cavernous nostrils, the short curly hair, the H on the forehead, and even a distinct sneer on the thin lips became visible.

Rimmer's face gently twitched as he received the onslaught of his own memories. His expressions flitted between sadness, fear, anger and, a couple times, happiness.

"Download completed. Bringing him online…now."

The lightshow finally faded away, and Rimmer's eyes snapped open as he took a sudden intake of air, out of reaction rather than necessity. He grasped at his chest, feeling for the heart attack he'd had, only to find the pain wasn't there anymore. He blinked once or twice before taking in his surroundings thoroughly. His eyes fell on his expectant crewmates.

"Welcome back, Mr. Rimmer, sir," Kryten said, patting the hologram's shoulder with great relief.

Rimmer looked around, looking rather confused. "What happened? Where's…? What happened to the simulant?"

"You killed it," Lister replied quickly. "You set off a ship quake, so we escaped with the teleporter."

Rimmer absorbed this knowledge and nodded slowly. "Then what? I remember pain… White-hot pain in my chest, and then…something."

"You had a heart attack, sir," Kryten supplied.

Rimmer looked at the mech again, this time in surprise. "I did?" he asked, searching his memory. Then his eyes narrowed and he slowly looked over towards Lister with thinly disguised contempt. "I did, didn't I?"

Lister shifted uncomfortably. "You did."

"…I had a heart attack," Rimmer continued, getting off the stool and standing on his shaking two legs. "I had a heart attack…because you wanted one more crate of hot sauce…"

"Er…"

"I…had a heart attack…and nearly died…again."

"Yeah…"

"I had a heart attack and nearly died again because you wanted one more smegging crate of hot sauce!" he shouted, walking towards Lister with a murderous expression on his face.

"…I'm sorry?" the scouser attempted nervously.

Rimmer looked at him with the utmost desperate anger for a few seconds before he suddenly managed to regain control his temper. "No, no, you know what?" he said, turning to face the others. "It's extreme stress that got me in trouble in the first place."

Lister visibly relaxed.

The hologram continued. "Kryten, I think I'm going to take you up on that program of relaxation after all," he said.

Kryten smiled encouragingly. "Oh, that's an excellent idea, sir. It will do you wonders to relieve yourself of all that stress. Might I suggest some yoga, or perhaps a nice space walk?"

"No, I was thinking I'd take a bit of exercise, actually. Get myself a proper workout," Rimmer replied, looking throughout the room for something in particular.

"Well, what did you have in mind, sir?"

Rimmer had finally found what he was looking for. It was a long sturdy pipe that looked about two inches thick. He picked it up and hefted it in his hands. "Well, first, I'm going to go for a nice brisk jog, and then I'm going to play some T-ball."

Lister looked confused. "I didn't know we had a stand for T-ball," he said.

"No matter. I can find a stand-in. How about I use your head?"

And then it twigged in everyone's minds what he was about to do, and Lister started backing up again.

"Whoa, hey, somebody stop him," he pleaded nervously, making for the door.

Cat started to stand in Rimmer's way. "Now, come on, bud, what he did wasn't that bad," he began.

"Cat, it's because of him that a simulant saw you in the same suit twice," Rimmer reminded him.

Cat mulled this reminder over for a moment before stepping out the hologram's way.

Lister let out a yelp and fled down the corridor, with Rimmer waving the pipe and chasing after him into Starbug's depths.

Kryten stared at the Cat incredulously. "Sir?"

Cat shrugged. "It's a fair cop," he said with a grin.

THE END

Author's Notes: So that's my version of Rimmerworld. I also have ideas for bigger versions of Stoke Me a Clipper and Blue, but we'll see. Thanks for reading.