A Familiar Set-up
Rimmer's eyelids began to twitch uncontrollably when he looked over at his bunk and saw Lister lying on it, chewing his dreadlocks and flicking through one of Rimmer's school rule books. "What are you, a cat?"
"Huh?"
"You follow me around even though I don't like you."
"I don't think you have any feelings good or bad towards me. That's what's interesting. Besides, this is my bunk. Number 13."
"That's 13 A, you want 13 B. The spare bunk is on top. The bottom one is mine."
"Really? I saw it all made up and neat and thought it wasn't taken."
"It's called making the bed. We all do it, every morning."
"Fair enough," said Lister supping at his can of quadruple strength lager and throwing his junk onto the top bunk. Rimmer gaped at him and pointed at the beer as if it were a live grenade. "You can't drink that! You're in complete violation of school rule number ZX35/J23!"
"ZX35/J23?" said Lister, peering into the book. "No student will rub linseed oil into the school cormorant."
"Well, maybe it was J32. Anyway, you're under the legal drinking age by seven years!"
"But that's what makes it taste better. Want some?"
"No, I certainly do not! You are unbelievable!"
"Yes I am," Lister grinned. "But I read a beer-mat in my dad's pub that said 'Believing hath a core of unbelieving'. It's funny, I can't remember much about his face but I remember a beer-mat." The way Rimmer looked at Lister at that moment was something he never forgot. It was almost as if he was on the brink of raucous laughter, but he had moist eyes and his skinny arms were trembling. "Are you all right?" asked Lister. Rimmer nodded his head and pretended to search for his boxing gloves to sleep with.
The next week was the most bizarre week in Rimmer's short life. Lister's words 'Believing hath a core of unbelieving'' kept ringing in his ears. He'd spent all his life believing. Believing that he was wanted in the world for some reason, whether it should be revealed that day or when he was older. That he wasn't born without purpose: this thought was all he had, although it was primarily unbelievable, that was how sad the whole affair was. And suddenly, from out of nowhere, there was now someone who seemed determined to rely on his presence. Lister didn't seem interested in making friends with anyone but him. It was puzzling, but warming. He had been chosen. Chosen out of all the other boys. Lister wasn't exactly Rimmer's perfect choice for a friend. But he did play R.I.S.K. with him, and listen to his jingles soundtracks, and was actually nice to him. There was just one thing that niggled Rimmer's mind. Lister would occasionally hang around with Sanjeev Parker. And it was in Rimmer's nature to distrust anyone on speaking terms with Sanjeev Parker.