Midnight Song
By Carrie Bassett
Mechanoids were not supposed to lie.
It had been viewed by those who had created his kind as wrong, immoral and deceitful. It was completely unacceptable for a mere mechanoid to stoop to the level of deceiving their human masters. It was dishonest. It was unacceptable.
So why was he doing it?
******
Kryten had learned to mimic his human masters in what his technical brain would decipher as "the relaxation of the mind and inner soul by fulfilling selective social experiences." However, according to Mr Lister's lexis, he was 'chilling out'. And Kryten was loving every minute of it.
Kryten sank back in the warm recesses of his swivel chair and surveyed the others with a warm central processing unit. Mr Lister was slumped in the chair just to his right, cards in one hand and can of Leopard Lager in the other. Kryten watched as his dark brown eyes flicked over his cards and then turned their attention to his sixth can of lager with drunken lust. Kryten shouldn't have been experiencing such thoughts, but he considered Mr Lister to be his favourite human. Mr Lister had taken the time and the effort to teach him about basic moral values, human-like behaviour.
.and lying.
Kryten fidgeted awkwardly at the thought but stopped when he noticed Mr Lister's eyes were staring into his own. His dark, shadowy eyelid rolled over in a friendly wink and then returned to his hand. Such a simple act made Kryten's diodes just melt.
He was accepted, and that was all that mattered.
Mr Lister then raised the can to his lips, drained the contents, and dropped the can onto the metal deck with a hollow clunk.
The Cat's frame jumped subtlety at the sound and Kryten smiled in delight. The Cat, whose vast wardrobe allowed him to fulfil his laundry duties ten times over, was perched on the edge of his seat, ignoring the cards in his hand, but staring intently at the slash of light which danced to and fro to the rhythm of Mr Lister's watch. The human morals that had been laid down for him would suggest that Mr Cat was "vain". However, Kryten was fully aware of the Cat's complex psyche, and analysing his improvement over the last five years, this example of Felis Sapiens was as mature as they come.
A thoughtful clearing of the throat from across the scanner table broke the silence. Silence was usually considered in polite human society as rude and awkward. The crew were never inhibited by any bouts of silence. They were all comfortable with each other and felt no need to impress one another. Except for the owner of the thoughtful cough, Kryten thought. His eyes rolled up from his own cards to meet the digital body of Mr Rimmer. Kryten observed amiably as his deep hazel eyes processed his cards and planned his next move. Mr Rimmer was probably unaware of the way he bit his lip and screwed up his nose when he was concentrating. Kryten allowed himself an ironic snigger. At first, he'd despised this hologrammatic life-form. But as Kryten had grown to realise, under that harsh exterior beats a human heart. There were valid arguments for his warped psyche, and Kryten believed that his confinement with just three other individuals had made Mr Rimmer realise that on most occasions, there was no one to blame but himself. It may not be at all apparent to the others, but Kryten was fully aware of the daily inner struggle that Mr Rimmer experienced, and truly how much he had grown.
Kryten's eyes switched to zoom function and homed in on Mr Rimmer's eyes. He often became lost in the swirls of brown and green which refused to become one.
"Is there are a problem, Kryten?"
Kryten's eyes abruptly zoomed out, to be greeted with Mr Rimmer's grinning features.
"Is there anybody home?" he grinned again. It was a strange thing to say, but Kryten enjoyed Games Night when Mr Rimmer would become intoxicated. It was the only weekly event where he was slightly admirable.
"Oh for goodness sake, Rimmer!" Lister slurred impatiently as he slammed down his seventh can of wicked-strength lager, "Just get on with it will ya?"
Kryten watched in amusement as Mr Rimmer wildly waved his free hand, as if to ward off Mr Lister's attacks. "All in good time," he mumbled. He pulled out one of the cards out of his hand, causing three others to fall onto the table. He leaned over to Kryten confidingly. "You couldn't tell me what that card is, could you Krytie? Only."
Mr Lister giggled, "He's completely pished and can't even focus on his cards!"
The Cat, who could no longer see the appealing nature of getting drunk and looking so ungroomed, looked at the pair in disgust, "Come on, buds! This is like playing with a load of kids!"
Kryten watched quietly as Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Kryten was about to reply to the Cat's utterance that the pair were fully mature in their behaviour, when something happened just in time to stop him doing so, which quite frankly, Kryten was thankful for. A reminder tone burst into a disappointing melody in his head.
It was time for bed.
It would probably appear to the outsider as a rather maternal action, but nevertheless, it was fully essential in Kryten's eyes. It was his duty to look after his human masters and to ensure their safety and well-being.
Kryten purposefully dropped his cards onto the scanner table and heaved his metallic frame out of the chair. "Excuse me sirs, but I do believe that it is time for you to rest for the night."
As expected, his request was met by disappointed groans and mumbles of disapproval. However, the Cat had had enough of the human's behaviour and leapt up gratefully. "Thank goodness for that!" he sighed silkily. "I better start now on my 4-hour beauty routine or I'm only going to get 2 hours sleep!" He threw down his cards excitedly and bound up the stairs, impatient to survey his beautiful reflection.
Mr Lister swivelled his chair to face the mechanoid. "Oh please." he whined like a small child, "We're only halfway through our game!"
Mr Rimmer lifted his head up from its position on the table, "Yeah Kryten, don't be a ssspoil-sport," he slurred wearily.
Kryten extended his robotic arm towards the stairs. "I want to see you in bed when I come up there in 10 minutes." And before Lister and Rimmer's lips could sound the first letter of the word "but," Kryten added forcefully, "Now."
Slowly and reluctantly, like a spaniel who didn't want to be put out, the drunken pair pulled themselves up and hiked their way unsteadily up the stairs. Kryten smiled in satisfaction. He didn't enjoy being so strict towards Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer, but Kryten had learned that intoxicated humans were ten times more stubborn than a two-year old toddler having a tantrum. Being forceful was the only way that he could encourage them to go to bed. Kryten knew that it would be better for them in the long-run, waking up in their bed rather than sprawled out across the deck of the mid- section, lying in pools of their own vomit.
A worrying thump from the upper deck jolted Kryten back into reality. He paused and turned his audio systems up to maximum. Nothing.
In a panic, Kryten bounded up the galley stairs, raced round the corner and peered into the first sleeping quarters, which belonged to Mr Rimmer. He called out for the lights, and was greeted by a snoring lump on the floor. Mr Rimmer was slumped on his knees with the weight of his heavy, exhausted head resting on the cold metallic floor. Kryten was quite proud. Mr Rimmer had made a truly valiant attempt at getting into bed. Kryten had analysed his alcohol level (which he knew that Mr Rimmer disapproved of, so never let on to this fact), and arriving at the correct sleeping quarters was an extraordinary achievement for someone who was having trouble recalling their name.
Kryten wrapped his arms around Mr Rimmer's waist and began the task of hauling him upright. His inanimate frame began to stir, and Kryten began to make out some inaudible mumblings.
"Wha-? Hey.what.?"
"It's all right Mr Rimmer, sir. We're just getting you into bed," Kryten replied, reassuringly. He lay Mr Rimmer down in his bunk and stepped back to admire his work. "There we are, sir. Much better."
Mr Rimmer mumbled something under his breath before attempting to clarify his point. "Thanks Krytie," he managed before slipping once again into a deep and satisfying sleep.
When Kryten arrived at Mr Lister's sleeping quarters, he found him already asleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest gave it away. Kryten's metallic boots hardly made a sound as he approached Mr Lister's bed and peered at his face. So peaceful and content.
Kryten sighed. This didn't feel right. This didn't feel right at all.
Just as he did every night, he reached out with cubic rubber fingers and gently touched Mr Lister's cheek. Humans were such complex creatures. But Kryten loved them with all his electronic heart. That's why I can't tell them, he reasoned. I need to protect them.
Slowly, Kryten pulled away his hand and started walking silently out of the door. Just before he reached the doorway, a familiar whisper stopped him in his tracks.
"Kryten.?"
Kryten turned to face his master without a word.
Mr Lister's eyes blinked slowly over his clear brown eyes. "We are going to do it, aren't we?" He paused. "We are going to get back to Earth one day?"
Kryten forced his eyes to lock on Mr Lister's. Despite the whirrs and error commands that flooded through his very being, he replied with the answer that his master wanted him to hear.
"Of course we are, sir," he whispered.
Mr Lister beamed. "I knew it." He snuggled further down into his sleeping bag and gently closed his eyes. "'Night, Krytes."
Kryten pulled his eyes away from Mr Lister and turned away. "Good night, sir," he echoed quietly. Silent footsteps left the room. All that mattered is that they were happy, Kryten told himself.
They don't want to know the truth.
By Carrie Bassett
Mechanoids were not supposed to lie.
It had been viewed by those who had created his kind as wrong, immoral and deceitful. It was completely unacceptable for a mere mechanoid to stoop to the level of deceiving their human masters. It was dishonest. It was unacceptable.
So why was he doing it?
******
Kryten had learned to mimic his human masters in what his technical brain would decipher as "the relaxation of the mind and inner soul by fulfilling selective social experiences." However, according to Mr Lister's lexis, he was 'chilling out'. And Kryten was loving every minute of it.
Kryten sank back in the warm recesses of his swivel chair and surveyed the others with a warm central processing unit. Mr Lister was slumped in the chair just to his right, cards in one hand and can of Leopard Lager in the other. Kryten watched as his dark brown eyes flicked over his cards and then turned their attention to his sixth can of lager with drunken lust. Kryten shouldn't have been experiencing such thoughts, but he considered Mr Lister to be his favourite human. Mr Lister had taken the time and the effort to teach him about basic moral values, human-like behaviour.
.and lying.
Kryten fidgeted awkwardly at the thought but stopped when he noticed Mr Lister's eyes were staring into his own. His dark, shadowy eyelid rolled over in a friendly wink and then returned to his hand. Such a simple act made Kryten's diodes just melt.
He was accepted, and that was all that mattered.
Mr Lister then raised the can to his lips, drained the contents, and dropped the can onto the metal deck with a hollow clunk.
The Cat's frame jumped subtlety at the sound and Kryten smiled in delight. The Cat, whose vast wardrobe allowed him to fulfil his laundry duties ten times over, was perched on the edge of his seat, ignoring the cards in his hand, but staring intently at the slash of light which danced to and fro to the rhythm of Mr Lister's watch. The human morals that had been laid down for him would suggest that Mr Cat was "vain". However, Kryten was fully aware of the Cat's complex psyche, and analysing his improvement over the last five years, this example of Felis Sapiens was as mature as they come.
A thoughtful clearing of the throat from across the scanner table broke the silence. Silence was usually considered in polite human society as rude and awkward. The crew were never inhibited by any bouts of silence. They were all comfortable with each other and felt no need to impress one another. Except for the owner of the thoughtful cough, Kryten thought. His eyes rolled up from his own cards to meet the digital body of Mr Rimmer. Kryten observed amiably as his deep hazel eyes processed his cards and planned his next move. Mr Rimmer was probably unaware of the way he bit his lip and screwed up his nose when he was concentrating. Kryten allowed himself an ironic snigger. At first, he'd despised this hologrammatic life-form. But as Kryten had grown to realise, under that harsh exterior beats a human heart. There were valid arguments for his warped psyche, and Kryten believed that his confinement with just three other individuals had made Mr Rimmer realise that on most occasions, there was no one to blame but himself. It may not be at all apparent to the others, but Kryten was fully aware of the daily inner struggle that Mr Rimmer experienced, and truly how much he had grown.
Kryten's eyes switched to zoom function and homed in on Mr Rimmer's eyes. He often became lost in the swirls of brown and green which refused to become one.
"Is there are a problem, Kryten?"
Kryten's eyes abruptly zoomed out, to be greeted with Mr Rimmer's grinning features.
"Is there anybody home?" he grinned again. It was a strange thing to say, but Kryten enjoyed Games Night when Mr Rimmer would become intoxicated. It was the only weekly event where he was slightly admirable.
"Oh for goodness sake, Rimmer!" Lister slurred impatiently as he slammed down his seventh can of wicked-strength lager, "Just get on with it will ya?"
Kryten watched in amusement as Mr Rimmer wildly waved his free hand, as if to ward off Mr Lister's attacks. "All in good time," he mumbled. He pulled out one of the cards out of his hand, causing three others to fall onto the table. He leaned over to Kryten confidingly. "You couldn't tell me what that card is, could you Krytie? Only."
Mr Lister giggled, "He's completely pished and can't even focus on his cards!"
The Cat, who could no longer see the appealing nature of getting drunk and looking so ungroomed, looked at the pair in disgust, "Come on, buds! This is like playing with a load of kids!"
Kryten watched quietly as Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer fell into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Kryten was about to reply to the Cat's utterance that the pair were fully mature in their behaviour, when something happened just in time to stop him doing so, which quite frankly, Kryten was thankful for. A reminder tone burst into a disappointing melody in his head.
It was time for bed.
It would probably appear to the outsider as a rather maternal action, but nevertheless, it was fully essential in Kryten's eyes. It was his duty to look after his human masters and to ensure their safety and well-being.
Kryten purposefully dropped his cards onto the scanner table and heaved his metallic frame out of the chair. "Excuse me sirs, but I do believe that it is time for you to rest for the night."
As expected, his request was met by disappointed groans and mumbles of disapproval. However, the Cat had had enough of the human's behaviour and leapt up gratefully. "Thank goodness for that!" he sighed silkily. "I better start now on my 4-hour beauty routine or I'm only going to get 2 hours sleep!" He threw down his cards excitedly and bound up the stairs, impatient to survey his beautiful reflection.
Mr Lister swivelled his chair to face the mechanoid. "Oh please." he whined like a small child, "We're only halfway through our game!"
Mr Rimmer lifted his head up from its position on the table, "Yeah Kryten, don't be a ssspoil-sport," he slurred wearily.
Kryten extended his robotic arm towards the stairs. "I want to see you in bed when I come up there in 10 minutes." And before Lister and Rimmer's lips could sound the first letter of the word "but," Kryten added forcefully, "Now."
Slowly and reluctantly, like a spaniel who didn't want to be put out, the drunken pair pulled themselves up and hiked their way unsteadily up the stairs. Kryten smiled in satisfaction. He didn't enjoy being so strict towards Mr Lister and Mr Rimmer, but Kryten had learned that intoxicated humans were ten times more stubborn than a two-year old toddler having a tantrum. Being forceful was the only way that he could encourage them to go to bed. Kryten knew that it would be better for them in the long-run, waking up in their bed rather than sprawled out across the deck of the mid- section, lying in pools of their own vomit.
A worrying thump from the upper deck jolted Kryten back into reality. He paused and turned his audio systems up to maximum. Nothing.
In a panic, Kryten bounded up the galley stairs, raced round the corner and peered into the first sleeping quarters, which belonged to Mr Rimmer. He called out for the lights, and was greeted by a snoring lump on the floor. Mr Rimmer was slumped on his knees with the weight of his heavy, exhausted head resting on the cold metallic floor. Kryten was quite proud. Mr Rimmer had made a truly valiant attempt at getting into bed. Kryten had analysed his alcohol level (which he knew that Mr Rimmer disapproved of, so never let on to this fact), and arriving at the correct sleeping quarters was an extraordinary achievement for someone who was having trouble recalling their name.
Kryten wrapped his arms around Mr Rimmer's waist and began the task of hauling him upright. His inanimate frame began to stir, and Kryten began to make out some inaudible mumblings.
"Wha-? Hey.what.?"
"It's all right Mr Rimmer, sir. We're just getting you into bed," Kryten replied, reassuringly. He lay Mr Rimmer down in his bunk and stepped back to admire his work. "There we are, sir. Much better."
Mr Rimmer mumbled something under his breath before attempting to clarify his point. "Thanks Krytie," he managed before slipping once again into a deep and satisfying sleep.
When Kryten arrived at Mr Lister's sleeping quarters, he found him already asleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest gave it away. Kryten's metallic boots hardly made a sound as he approached Mr Lister's bed and peered at his face. So peaceful and content.
Kryten sighed. This didn't feel right. This didn't feel right at all.
Just as he did every night, he reached out with cubic rubber fingers and gently touched Mr Lister's cheek. Humans were such complex creatures. But Kryten loved them with all his electronic heart. That's why I can't tell them, he reasoned. I need to protect them.
Slowly, Kryten pulled away his hand and started walking silently out of the door. Just before he reached the doorway, a familiar whisper stopped him in his tracks.
"Kryten.?"
Kryten turned to face his master without a word.
Mr Lister's eyes blinked slowly over his clear brown eyes. "We are going to do it, aren't we?" He paused. "We are going to get back to Earth one day?"
Kryten forced his eyes to lock on Mr Lister's. Despite the whirrs and error commands that flooded through his very being, he replied with the answer that his master wanted him to hear.
"Of course we are, sir," he whispered.
Mr Lister beamed. "I knew it." He snuggled further down into his sleeping bag and gently closed his eyes. "'Night, Krytes."
Kryten pulled his eyes away from Mr Lister and turned away. "Good night, sir," he echoed quietly. Silent footsteps left the room. All that mattered is that they were happy, Kryten told himself.
They don't want to know the truth.
