Rimmer laid on his bunk with a small smug file planted on his face. Lister
slept less than soundly on the bunk above, noisily snoring, tossing and
turning. Rimmer wasn't listening. He was just wondering how he was going to
handle Olivia. How he was going to block his urges. It was like he was a
baby, and she was a lollypop being waved in front of it's face. He would
get a small lick and then it would be pulled away again. Was he really
going to be able to take much more of this?
Life just had to go on. Life was going to be quite strange. He was in a situation he just couldn't take seriously. After being on his own for so long with only Lister, the Cat and Kryten, with free roam of Red dwarf, it wasn't easy for him to go back to the old way of life. Life with structure. Structure slowly seemed to vanish from his schedule as the months alone went on. By the time Olivia had showed up, he was ready to just say "Screw it" to the old ways. Sure he didn't like Lister very much, and it was a degrading experience to be alone with only them, but it was better than this. Being looked down on by the entire ship once again. He felt like he shouldn't be here. Like he didn't belong. Things were never all that great before the radiation leak, but he had at least felt like he belonged somewhere. Like he was going somewhere, maybe even if he wasn't. He was no longer in such denial. He still wanted officerhood and success, but it had been temporarily put on hold. Put on hold for another human being. One he wasn't going to obtain.
Rimmer slowly brushed his hand over his stubbly unshaven cheek. Her kiss kept him smiling through the night, despite his depressing thoughts.
Rimmer yawned softly. He had just finished his shift. Lister had been more hung over than usual today, so Rimmer had a hell of a time pulling him through the day. Several times during the day, Lister handed him the wrong tools. He had not been able to pay attention to detail, which made things harder for them.
For some reason, Rimmer felt more stressed out today than usual. It was as if something was bothering him just beyond his grasp, and he had no ways of fixing it. He let out a sigh, and walked towards the crew mess hall. Through the same generic gray corridors. It was as if this entire ship was designed just to depress the occupants at its blandness. Rimmer stared at the walls, Each ship issue screw screwed in exactly like the last. If you were to take out a ruler, they would be exactly the same distance apart. How was this ship even made? Who screwed all these screws in? Was it just some machine? Some machine that put absolutely no thought into the end product, only what it was designed to do.
"Rimmer(" Someone caught his attention.
Rimmer looked up from his mild sorrows at the man who had been calling his name.
"Just the man I was looking for." the man smiled in an odd manner.
"Officer Randall?" Rimmer was too confused to salute. Rimmer suddenly noticed who was addressing him, and began a sloppy solute.
Before Rimmer could fully begin, something got in the way of his hand. It was Randall's hand.
"No, Rimmer( you don't have to solute me." he said, trying to imply that he was on a friendship basis with Rimmer.
Rimmer stood there with his mouth slightly open. "I don't?" Why was Officer George Randall talking to him? They had never really been formally introduced. When would they have been? He was only a technician, while Randall was one of the best navigation officers on the ship, and quite respected.
Talking to Randall began to depress him. It reminded him of when all that mattered to him was success, which had been most of his life. He was still driven by the desire for success, but it was no longer his main focus. He wondered if he would ever try his astronavigation exam again.
"Rimmer, the captain had requested I meet with you." the same friendly inflections remained in his voice.
"Did he?" What was happening? Why would the captain want him to meet with Randall? A man who constantly reminded him of what he wasn't. Honorable. Respectable. A man like Randall didn't have to be talking to him, so why was he? Perhaps it was just some scheme to humiliate him. Rimmer's past flooded his memory. Suddenly, for some reason, all he wanted, more than anything, was success and officerhood. He was intoxicated with his desires, and would do anything to make them happen.
"I was wondering if maybe you would like to join me in the officer's lounge for a drink?"
Olivia sat in her quarters, observing the atmosphere. She had been living in it for a few weeks by now. It had been transformed slightly from the bland, generic sleeping quarters assigned to her, to her own room. One whose atmosphere was a reflection on herself. Little remnants of herself were scattered about. She had found some old postcards with pictures of earth around her time period, and had sloppily mounted them on the wall. They were a simple reminder of her home. The home she had forgotten for so long. The home she missed.
She now had some belongings. When she arrived here, she had nothing but the tattered clothing she had been wearing (which she had kept in a small metal box in her closet). Now she had her uniform which hung from its hanger. She had some normal clothing. Some of which found on Starbug, some bought with her small salary on the ship. She had never been very organized, but with her small sleeping quarters and even smaller amount of positions, it was hard to lose track of things. Her clothing was messily tossed into her closet. She had her own light blue space corps towel hanging over the shower area. She had her small shampoo bottle, her soap and her conditioner. She had a brush and a small facial soap bar which was half way used up sitting by the sink. Inside her metallic drawers was a small amount of makeup she rarely used, most of which given to her by Kochanski, or found of Starbug.
She looked around, thoroughly observing her surroundings, which she had seen hundreds of times already. How did she know this was really her? Hadn't she lost her memory for such a long time? If she had been restored to before she had lost her memory, before she had ever ended up here, would this room satisfy her? Was she always this simple a person? A person who could get by with such a small amount of positions? Her childish room had been full of stuff. An endless amount of stuff. Stuff she almost never used, but felt she needed. Where had it all come from? There was a story behind everything, even how small and mediocre. She knew something about every article of clothing, every picture, every item in her closet. They were all hers, and at the time she didn't feel like she could part with any of it without a replacement. She could give away her old clothing that no longer fit, but not without shopping again to find something new. She had such a large inventory, yet such a huge desire for more. Such a feeling of entitlement.
It was as if she was given a fresh start. Even though she did technically live here, it didn't feel like home. None of her things felt like they were hers. She felt like she was wearing someone else's uniform, using someone else's towel, living in a place she didn't really belong in. She could remember how safe and protected she felt in her room at home on earth. She felt as if she was in a sanctuary, whereas she felt as if she was living in someone else's room now. Sure these were her things now. She owned them. She used them, yet she didn't feel any sort of posetion over them. They were just things she used, wore, borrowed. Not that she had any intention to give them back. Something didn't feel right about this place.
She looked at the postcards. An orchard in California. A busy street in London. The Eiffel Tower in France. Even though the postcards only represented ideal interpretations taken by professional photographers of the certain scenes, they still reminded her of what she had taken for granted. When she had looked out her window as a child she saw her back yard. The grass her family never cared for, the small play set, which was taken down before she grew up, trees, a fence, and most importantly of all, a sky. A magnificent sky. A sky that changed with the weather, controlled by an atmosphere. Whenever she looked out the windows here, she saw blackness, and stars. Not the same seductive stars of earth, but little tiny stars that reminded her of loneliness and emptiness. It was as if she were trapped in eternal night, and every single window would remind her.
An earth girl just couldn't get used to this. She missed sunlight, rain, nature, animals. A world outside this futuristic industrial world of humans. She had visited the britanical gardens on the ship, but they didn't feel the same. They felt like a masquerade of what she had remembered. A constant temperature was maintained throughout the entire thing, and there was no wind. It rained only at night after closing hours, to water each and every plant. It was only a garden in the ideal conditions, planted in perfection by some landscapers who had designed the ship, not a ancient forest that grew on its own on earth. It seemed that no one realized the beauty of nature. Nature that had not been effected by man.
When she had originally arrived in this time period, she had been curious about the future, what had happened between when she was born and now. It no longer mattered to her, there may have been new inventions, and a new way of life, but the human race had not changed, only adapted. With the simplicity of earth gone forever, it seemed like no one could appreciate the simple things anymore. With every new invention, the inventors feel as if they have changed humanity for the better by making some aspect of life easier, but nothing truly changes. Humans adapt to the new invention, and become less and less connected to how humans originally evolved. Further and further away from their natural habitat and natural way of life. Being out in deep space seemed to be as far away (literally) as Olivia could imagine the human race. She soon became less and less surprised at every development. Everything she had known and loved as a child was taken away from her, yet she wasn't directly effected. She had experienced too much pain already to take in anymore, so she didn't. She just lived each day, yet didn't really live at all. She shielded herself from the world around her, refusing to believe it really existed. She could see that things were different, that she was disconnected from her past self, but didn't feel the longing and heartache of this discovery. She just simply kept on going. Kept going with such little reminders, and the only thing to truly make her happy was a single person. Maybe it was possible he had been acting as a replacement. A replacement of all the things that used to make her happy.
Tomorrow she was to meet with the psychiatrist. How could she tell him all of that? Even if it were possible to verbally sum up every single negative feeling she felt about her current living situation, how would simply telling a trained professional help her? It wasn't as if it would make her feel better. She already knew what was bothering her, telling someone she didn't know wasn't going to help her. How could she walk in and face them tomorrow? She was the victim of some terrible occurrences, which inspired sympathy from some, but that didn't seem to change much.
What it all came down to was that she just wasn't happy with what humanity had turned into. She wasn't happy that this humanity had been one who had nurtured the one person who haunted her. This was the humanity that offered him forgiveness for what he had done without question. This humanity was simply not able to accept her.
Sure she missed her old way of life, but it wasn't as if it was pure either. Life was full of imperfections. And most of all, it wasn't fair, and she seemed to be the victim of all that wasn't fair. How was she supposed to cope? Why was she just expected to adapt? How could they possibly think that visiting a simple shrink would be a solution to anything? They didn't think. They never stopped and thought about the fact that maybe they weren't right, and maybe authority wasn't everything.
The truth was, if she were to fit in here, she had to put up with it. She had made a promise to him. Little did either of them know at the time what such a promise would mean. The promise was very important to her, perhaps the only thing that truly kept her going. The only thing that made the whole thing worth living. She had promised him she would. That she wouldn't run away( escape. That she would adapt. What choice did she have? All she could do from this point on was get used to it. Something that wasn't going to happen on it's own.
Olivia sat there. Tears beginning to stream from her eyes. They were unexpected, but failed to surprise her. All she could seem to do was sit there and cry. Cry for everything that wasn't right in the world.
Life just had to go on. Life was going to be quite strange. He was in a situation he just couldn't take seriously. After being on his own for so long with only Lister, the Cat and Kryten, with free roam of Red dwarf, it wasn't easy for him to go back to the old way of life. Life with structure. Structure slowly seemed to vanish from his schedule as the months alone went on. By the time Olivia had showed up, he was ready to just say "Screw it" to the old ways. Sure he didn't like Lister very much, and it was a degrading experience to be alone with only them, but it was better than this. Being looked down on by the entire ship once again. He felt like he shouldn't be here. Like he didn't belong. Things were never all that great before the radiation leak, but he had at least felt like he belonged somewhere. Like he was going somewhere, maybe even if he wasn't. He was no longer in such denial. He still wanted officerhood and success, but it had been temporarily put on hold. Put on hold for another human being. One he wasn't going to obtain.
Rimmer slowly brushed his hand over his stubbly unshaven cheek. Her kiss kept him smiling through the night, despite his depressing thoughts.
Rimmer yawned softly. He had just finished his shift. Lister had been more hung over than usual today, so Rimmer had a hell of a time pulling him through the day. Several times during the day, Lister handed him the wrong tools. He had not been able to pay attention to detail, which made things harder for them.
For some reason, Rimmer felt more stressed out today than usual. It was as if something was bothering him just beyond his grasp, and he had no ways of fixing it. He let out a sigh, and walked towards the crew mess hall. Through the same generic gray corridors. It was as if this entire ship was designed just to depress the occupants at its blandness. Rimmer stared at the walls, Each ship issue screw screwed in exactly like the last. If you were to take out a ruler, they would be exactly the same distance apart. How was this ship even made? Who screwed all these screws in? Was it just some machine? Some machine that put absolutely no thought into the end product, only what it was designed to do.
"Rimmer(" Someone caught his attention.
Rimmer looked up from his mild sorrows at the man who had been calling his name.
"Just the man I was looking for." the man smiled in an odd manner.
"Officer Randall?" Rimmer was too confused to salute. Rimmer suddenly noticed who was addressing him, and began a sloppy solute.
Before Rimmer could fully begin, something got in the way of his hand. It was Randall's hand.
"No, Rimmer( you don't have to solute me." he said, trying to imply that he was on a friendship basis with Rimmer.
Rimmer stood there with his mouth slightly open. "I don't?" Why was Officer George Randall talking to him? They had never really been formally introduced. When would they have been? He was only a technician, while Randall was one of the best navigation officers on the ship, and quite respected.
Talking to Randall began to depress him. It reminded him of when all that mattered to him was success, which had been most of his life. He was still driven by the desire for success, but it was no longer his main focus. He wondered if he would ever try his astronavigation exam again.
"Rimmer, the captain had requested I meet with you." the same friendly inflections remained in his voice.
"Did he?" What was happening? Why would the captain want him to meet with Randall? A man who constantly reminded him of what he wasn't. Honorable. Respectable. A man like Randall didn't have to be talking to him, so why was he? Perhaps it was just some scheme to humiliate him. Rimmer's past flooded his memory. Suddenly, for some reason, all he wanted, more than anything, was success and officerhood. He was intoxicated with his desires, and would do anything to make them happen.
"I was wondering if maybe you would like to join me in the officer's lounge for a drink?"
Olivia sat in her quarters, observing the atmosphere. She had been living in it for a few weeks by now. It had been transformed slightly from the bland, generic sleeping quarters assigned to her, to her own room. One whose atmosphere was a reflection on herself. Little remnants of herself were scattered about. She had found some old postcards with pictures of earth around her time period, and had sloppily mounted them on the wall. They were a simple reminder of her home. The home she had forgotten for so long. The home she missed.
She now had some belongings. When she arrived here, she had nothing but the tattered clothing she had been wearing (which she had kept in a small metal box in her closet). Now she had her uniform which hung from its hanger. She had some normal clothing. Some of which found on Starbug, some bought with her small salary on the ship. She had never been very organized, but with her small sleeping quarters and even smaller amount of positions, it was hard to lose track of things. Her clothing was messily tossed into her closet. She had her own light blue space corps towel hanging over the shower area. She had her small shampoo bottle, her soap and her conditioner. She had a brush and a small facial soap bar which was half way used up sitting by the sink. Inside her metallic drawers was a small amount of makeup she rarely used, most of which given to her by Kochanski, or found of Starbug.
She looked around, thoroughly observing her surroundings, which she had seen hundreds of times already. How did she know this was really her? Hadn't she lost her memory for such a long time? If she had been restored to before she had lost her memory, before she had ever ended up here, would this room satisfy her? Was she always this simple a person? A person who could get by with such a small amount of positions? Her childish room had been full of stuff. An endless amount of stuff. Stuff she almost never used, but felt she needed. Where had it all come from? There was a story behind everything, even how small and mediocre. She knew something about every article of clothing, every picture, every item in her closet. They were all hers, and at the time she didn't feel like she could part with any of it without a replacement. She could give away her old clothing that no longer fit, but not without shopping again to find something new. She had such a large inventory, yet such a huge desire for more. Such a feeling of entitlement.
It was as if she was given a fresh start. Even though she did technically live here, it didn't feel like home. None of her things felt like they were hers. She felt like she was wearing someone else's uniform, using someone else's towel, living in a place she didn't really belong in. She could remember how safe and protected she felt in her room at home on earth. She felt as if she was in a sanctuary, whereas she felt as if she was living in someone else's room now. Sure these were her things now. She owned them. She used them, yet she didn't feel any sort of posetion over them. They were just things she used, wore, borrowed. Not that she had any intention to give them back. Something didn't feel right about this place.
She looked at the postcards. An orchard in California. A busy street in London. The Eiffel Tower in France. Even though the postcards only represented ideal interpretations taken by professional photographers of the certain scenes, they still reminded her of what she had taken for granted. When she had looked out her window as a child she saw her back yard. The grass her family never cared for, the small play set, which was taken down before she grew up, trees, a fence, and most importantly of all, a sky. A magnificent sky. A sky that changed with the weather, controlled by an atmosphere. Whenever she looked out the windows here, she saw blackness, and stars. Not the same seductive stars of earth, but little tiny stars that reminded her of loneliness and emptiness. It was as if she were trapped in eternal night, and every single window would remind her.
An earth girl just couldn't get used to this. She missed sunlight, rain, nature, animals. A world outside this futuristic industrial world of humans. She had visited the britanical gardens on the ship, but they didn't feel the same. They felt like a masquerade of what she had remembered. A constant temperature was maintained throughout the entire thing, and there was no wind. It rained only at night after closing hours, to water each and every plant. It was only a garden in the ideal conditions, planted in perfection by some landscapers who had designed the ship, not a ancient forest that grew on its own on earth. It seemed that no one realized the beauty of nature. Nature that had not been effected by man.
When she had originally arrived in this time period, she had been curious about the future, what had happened between when she was born and now. It no longer mattered to her, there may have been new inventions, and a new way of life, but the human race had not changed, only adapted. With the simplicity of earth gone forever, it seemed like no one could appreciate the simple things anymore. With every new invention, the inventors feel as if they have changed humanity for the better by making some aspect of life easier, but nothing truly changes. Humans adapt to the new invention, and become less and less connected to how humans originally evolved. Further and further away from their natural habitat and natural way of life. Being out in deep space seemed to be as far away (literally) as Olivia could imagine the human race. She soon became less and less surprised at every development. Everything she had known and loved as a child was taken away from her, yet she wasn't directly effected. She had experienced too much pain already to take in anymore, so she didn't. She just lived each day, yet didn't really live at all. She shielded herself from the world around her, refusing to believe it really existed. She could see that things were different, that she was disconnected from her past self, but didn't feel the longing and heartache of this discovery. She just simply kept on going. Kept going with such little reminders, and the only thing to truly make her happy was a single person. Maybe it was possible he had been acting as a replacement. A replacement of all the things that used to make her happy.
Tomorrow she was to meet with the psychiatrist. How could she tell him all of that? Even if it were possible to verbally sum up every single negative feeling she felt about her current living situation, how would simply telling a trained professional help her? It wasn't as if it would make her feel better. She already knew what was bothering her, telling someone she didn't know wasn't going to help her. How could she walk in and face them tomorrow? She was the victim of some terrible occurrences, which inspired sympathy from some, but that didn't seem to change much.
What it all came down to was that she just wasn't happy with what humanity had turned into. She wasn't happy that this humanity had been one who had nurtured the one person who haunted her. This was the humanity that offered him forgiveness for what he had done without question. This humanity was simply not able to accept her.
Sure she missed her old way of life, but it wasn't as if it was pure either. Life was full of imperfections. And most of all, it wasn't fair, and she seemed to be the victim of all that wasn't fair. How was she supposed to cope? Why was she just expected to adapt? How could they possibly think that visiting a simple shrink would be a solution to anything? They didn't think. They never stopped and thought about the fact that maybe they weren't right, and maybe authority wasn't everything.
The truth was, if she were to fit in here, she had to put up with it. She had made a promise to him. Little did either of them know at the time what such a promise would mean. The promise was very important to her, perhaps the only thing that truly kept her going. The only thing that made the whole thing worth living. She had promised him she would. That she wouldn't run away( escape. That she would adapt. What choice did she have? All she could do from this point on was get used to it. Something that wasn't going to happen on it's own.
Olivia sat there. Tears beginning to stream from her eyes. They were unexpected, but failed to surprise her. All she could seem to do was sit there and cry. Cry for everything that wasn't right in the world.