Have you ever wondered if we are naught but slaves turning the wheel of fate? This is what is on my mind as my body is torn apart. I mean, other than arghhhhhhh. It shouldn't take too long, just a few more seconds and I then I get to find out whether it's hell or the endless void for me. Knowing my luck heaven's a lie, and even if it isn't I haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of getting in. And yet I seem to be having a great amount of time to think in. It's not as bad as it sounds. It doesn't even hurt. Well, not all of the time. Time is stretched so thin that my synapses seem to be taking an awful long time to fire and send the sensations of pain to my conscious mind.
So then, is the world driven by fate? It would be tremendously unfair if I don't get to know the answer now I'm at the end. Or could all of this have been avoided? Will this go down in history as the final and most colossal smeg up of Arnold J Rimmer?
No! It's not my fault, it's all Lister's fault. If I hadn't have been on shift alone, we'd have been able to repair that faulty drive plate. It's all because he decided to bring that smegging cat back from Miranda. What a selfish git. Could I have stopped him? One thing's for sure, I know he wouldn't have listened to me. How could that be my fault? Not my fault I'd been saddled with a bunkmate I was unable to form any sort of rapport with. Was it? I could feel doubt start to creep into my mind and I started to wonder if things could have been very, very different.
That first night, instead of ignoring the sounds of restless sleep and suppressed weeping from the bunk above mine, perhaps I'd pretend I couldn't sleep for a totally unrelated reason and ask him if he wanted to talk. Lister would put up a front at first, insisting he was alright. But eventually he'd open up and admit he was scared he'd never get home and he was anxious because this was his first time on a spaceship and everything felt weird. And I'd tell him he didn't have the monopoly on being anxious, oh no siree miladdo. That'd get a bit of a laugh. We'd sit up all night and I'd share my experience, and he'd tell me about himself instead of me having to learn bits and pieces over the years mostly by accident.
He'd begin to regard me as more of a mentor figure than an antagonist, and he'd start to come to me with his problems. We'd manage to build up some form of trust, maybe even friendship.
Perhaps he'd be sympathetic when I didn't quite get the passing grade in an exam. A bit of comfort then might have made all the difference to me. The world is a cold, cruel place and maybe someone telling me oh no Arnold, you're not a complete failure, you should try again, I believe in you might have broken me out of my cycle of procrastination and cramming and helped me start to revise for once in a slow, steady manner with a minimum of self-destructiveness.
Maybe I'd join him and his friends for a drink now and then. They'd be a bit awed by the presence of a senior officer, but I'd insist that rank did not matter and Lister would assure them that I was cool. And although I'd never see the fruits of my labour I'd like to think I'd started to steer the whole gang away from a lifetime of alcoholism and mediocracy.
But then Lister would meet Kochanski. I'd try to keep the two of them apart but he'd be drawn to her like a fly to a big steaming pile of faeces. Ultimately, it could well have been her fault and not Lister's that we all died. If she hadn't have dumped him, he wouldn't have been driven to such reckless behaviour and smuggled a cat aboard. So, with my initial failure to keep them apart, I'd have to suffer accidentally walking in on them doing the horizontal mambo regularly for a couple of weeks. She wouldn't always be around, presumably he had to let her rest sometimes, but even then he'd be babbling on about the way she smiled. If it hadn't been outlawed centuries earlier, I'd be thinking he'd been lobotomised. At least this time I knew it had a time limit.
Then it'd all be over, and Lister would be trying to drown his sorrows. But I'd have one last ace up my sleeve, one last chance to fix this. Of course! Because by now we would be friends, I could offer him some moral support, tell him he could do better than her, all that kind of malarkey. He'd be grateful for my support and because we're blokes I'd pat him awkwardly on the shoulder and try to turn the conversation towards more cheerful topics. I'd make him laugh and like it's the most natural thing in the world he'd lean in and try to kiss me.
I'm suddenly jerked out of my fantasy of what might have been. How could I have imagined that? Ridiculous! Impossible! Had Lister been dropping hints that he felt that way about me all this time and only now do I realise? I… don't think so. Perhaps the rational part of my brain has disintegrated and I am left only able to think absurd things. The only other thing to think about is how I am close to death and in the circumstances however absurd it is, my fantasy is preferable.
The only right thing to do is to push Lister away. To tell him I'm flattered but now isn't the time, he needs to take time to get over Kochanski. As soon as I say her name he starts blubbing again. He asks if he can have a cuddle and I let him sag into my arms. Even though Lister is sad, it's nice to hold him in my arms. The warm weight of him against me is more welcome than I could ever imagine. Previously when we touched it was either accidental or malicious. Only now do I realise what a great shame that is.
When the chance for shore leave comes up, Lister would be worryingly keen on going. I'd try to deter him, tell him how I've heard Miranda is a rubbish place to go on holidays. But he's not to be discouraged so I tell him I'm coming with him. The Red Dwarf is to stay in port on the moon for a week for maintenance, so we decide to share a room down there, as we're used to sharing anyway. Lister wants to stay in this swanky spa hotel, which I think is odd for a man who has less baths than the average medieval peasant, but I go along with it. It's very popular with the crew but Lister manages to snag us one of the last rooms. When we get there we see it's a double not a twin. Reception tells us they don't have another room for us to change to. I suggest we find another hotel. Lister says it's fine, the bed's big enough we'd need a map to get to the middle of it anyway.
It's not long before I realise why Lister was so keen on this hotel. Kochanski's there with her ex, and they don't look like they're exes anymore. Not the way they've always got their tongues down each other's throats. Lister keeps trying to talk to her or catch her eye and gets disheartened when she continues to not dump her ex to get back with him. Even though it's embarrassing to watch I can't help but feel bad for him. But I'm there to stop him bringing a cat back with him, not to stop him getting back with Kochanski.
This hotel is clearly designed with couples in mind, so not only are we forced to share a bed, but we also have meals together while romantic music plays. I find myself thinking about when he tried to kiss me, and where things might have gone if I'd let him. Probably nowhere, he was just upset about the breakup and would regret it later. It'd be awkward between us for a bit, or forever. I begin to wonder if there's some sort of psychotropic love drug in the air of this place to makes the patrons spend more money.
While we talk over dinner, I see Lister's eyes repeatedly flicking over to the table where Kochanski is sitting with her ex. I start to feel jealous about the attention he is giving her. I try to push the feeling down, but it keeps coming up again.
When we return to our room later, I confront him. Tell him how annoyed I am at him ruining our shore leave by constantly following Kochanski and whining about her. He doesn't apologise, in fact he says what do I know and uses my lack of experience in personal relationships against me. I snap back at him, telling him he didn't seem to mind when he tried to snog me. Lister goes quiet, then tells me he's not staying in this room with me tonight.
I feel defeated as I watch him walk to the door. I don't want him to go, I don't want to fight with him. It had been nice to finally be friends with him. I'd like to put my arms around him again, but he won't let me, not now.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I remember why I'm really here. What if this is fate's way of trying to right itself? What if this is when Lister goes and finds himself a stray cat? Oh, smeg. Then all this has been for nothing.
I can't let that happen.
Not today, fate!
I throw open the door and run down the corridor, shouting his name. What? Lister says, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking annoyed. But he has stopped and turned towards me.
I feel myself getting tongue tied, all the impressive lines that had almost occurred to me while I ran up the corridor have left me now. I lean against the wall next to his head. For some godforsaken reason this always works in films. Maybe it'd work for me now? Lister looks up at me, his eyes widening and his lips parting. I hear him take a breath and he runs his tongue over his top lip. Well? he says.
I hesitate before pressing my lips to his, more forcefully than I mean to because I'm nervous. He kisses me back with equal force and I lean my body against his, pressing him against the wall. Ooh Arnie, he moans into my mouth. I might have him pinned against the wall but I'm putty in his hands. We kiss until our lips are sore, then he grabs me by the tie and drags me back to our room.
Most of the rest of our shore leave is spent in bed making love in every way we can think of, then going back to the top of the list and doing it again. On one of our ventures out of our room for food, I'm pleased to notice Lister walk straight past Kochanski without even noticing her. When we return to the ship, I am certain Lister hasn't been out of my arms for long enough to tuck a stray cat under his jacket. Mission accomplished.
I know the rough location of the faulty drive plate, so I make sure to pay special attention to that area on our maintenance checks. Sure enough, we spot it, and it's early enough to do the necessary repairs. We're heroes, and instead of being dead I'm a dead cert for promotion. And all it took was to make Lister fall in love with me, which now I think about it doesn't seem like such a high price to pay.
So maybe things could have been different. But not this time, this time we're all dead. I feel a pain like a hole in my chest which might be the realisation that my fantasy was just that, a fantasy. Or it might be a physical hole. My body is finally disintegrating.
"Alright Arnold? I've got to tell you something. You might want to sit down," Holly is saying. "Oh wait no, you can't, can you?"
I wave a hand towards a chair. Through a chair.
And it dawns on me.
Hell. I'm in hell.
