Lister didn't know if he could wait until tomorrow. After six months of forced silence, being able to speak again would be amazing. Anyway, I'm sure Rimmer will be glad to be rid of me.

"What do you mean, I'll be glad?" Rimmer asked.

Lister would never understand how Rimmer, a guy so wrapped up in himself, could figure out enough about Lister in six months to practically read his mind.

Come on, Rimmer. You can't tell me this is fun for you, Lister thought, making a skeptical face.

"Well, no, not fun exactly," Rimmer admitted.

Lister spread his hands. Well, then?

"Useful," Rimmer said.

Lister didn't get it. What's so great about that?

"My whole life, Lister, I've never been necessary," Rimmer said. "I was the youngest of four. I was an accident. My parents never even bothered to hide it from me. I never had any talents, never distinguished myself in school. Even when I joined the Space Corps, I never did anything well, and more importantly, I never did anything vital." He paused. "That is, until I repaired the drive plate badly and killed the whole crew. That was vital, and not a small cock-up on my part."

Lister frowned, trying to think of an exception. You must've done something important for somebody sometime.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Rimmer said. "But I can't think of a single time." He pointed to the floor. "Until now. I have a purpose now. I'm doing something nobody else can do."

Lister nodded, making a gesture of acquiescence. That's true.

"That's just it," Rimmer said. "I'm not good at anything, but I'm good at this. And tomorrow, none of that will matter, because I'll stop being your voice and go back to being the cowardly git you bunk with."

You don't have to, Lister thought, staring pointedly at Rimmer.

"I know," Rimmer said, "but given the kind of person I've been so far, I don't have much confidence in my ability to change."

This was getting ridiculous. You have changed.

"No, I haven't," Rimmer said, shaking his head.

Lister grabbed a pad and pencil; he needed to knock some sense into Rimmer. You think when you were brought online you'd have done something like this?

Rimmer looked at the paper for a minute. "No."

You couldn't even stand in a room with me for thirty seconds without insulting me or pulling rank. And for the last six months, you've been following me around, talking for me. That doesn't count as change?

"Not if it isn't permanent," Rimmer said.

Rimmer was being silly. This miraculous surgery hadn't happened yet, and when it did, it might not even work. And yet, Lister didn't like to admit it, but he almost understood how Rimmer felt. You'll have to decide how you want to be, Rimmer.

"I know," Rimmer said.

Lister gestured to the doorway, tossing aside the pad and pencil. Come on; let's go out.

Rimmer looked at Lister warily. "You're not going to make me sing karaoke for you again, are you?"

Lister grinned.

"Lister, you know I can't carry a tune," Rimmer said, crossing his arms. "You just like to see me humiliated, don't you?"

Lister nodded. You bet.

Rimmer sighed as he got to his feet. "Fine." He pointed at Lister. "But I'm warning you, if you try to make me sing 'Dancing Queen' again, I'm leaving."

Lister wasn't planning on asking Rimmer to sing "Dancing Queen", not when there was a whole ABBA songbook to choose from.