"Everyone's dead," Rimmer uttered, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. Holly's words reverberated in his mind, a heavy burden he couldn't escape.
"Dead. They're all dead," he murmured, the weight of the truth sinking deeper with each passing moment.
"They're dead, Rimmer," Holly's voice remained devoid of emotion, a programmed response in the face of the grim reality. His monotone delivery only served to emphasize his antiquated nature, a relic of a bygone era.
"Well, what do you know, it's my lucky day," Rimmer sarcastically remarked, masking his inner turmoil with a feeble attempt at humor.
"Not by the sounds of things or by the look of it," Holly's retort was laced with a hint of weariness, his observation sharp as Rimmer aimlessly paced the room, the world spinning around him. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift, threatening to send him toppling.
"I told you, you should have sat down," Holly sighed, a mix of frustration and genuine concern evident in his voice, as Rimmer struggled to find stability in a disorienting reality.
"I told you, I'm fine," Rimmer insisted, his voice tinged with stubbornness. "I don't need your help." He locked eyes with Holly, a glimpse of fear and vulnerability betraying his facade of composure. With a trembling hand, he steadied himself against a nearby wall, determined to push through the dizziness and maintain some semblance of normalcy.
"Perhaps a visit to the infirmary would do you good," Holly suggested, his voice carrying a tone of weariness as he navigated the delicate terrain of Rimmer's fragile mental state.
"Everyone," Rimmer whispered, his voice filled with horror.
"Dead," Holly repeated solemnly. "They're all dead, Rimmer. Dead. All of them." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "Listen, Rimmer-"
"I don't wanna hear it," Rimmer interrupted, his voice tinged with desperation. He grappled with the onslaught of hysteria threatening to consume him. "I don't need to hear any of this!" In his mind, Holly was nothing more than a hologramatic AI, incapable of comprehending the depths of anguish he was currently enduring.
"I'm pretty sure this conversation was long overdue, by oh, let's see... three million years," Holly remarked dryly. He could have sworn he heard Rimmer snicker under his breath. Holly rolled his eyes, perplexed by Rimmer's inclination to make things more difficult for himself. It was clear that Rimmer needed immediate medical attention, rather than waiting until he unceremoniously blacked out.
"Rimmer," Holly called out, his tone laced with concern. He observed Rimmer attempting to stifle his fits of laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I cuh-can't believe this," Rimmer stammered, tears flowing down his cheeks unabated. "I really can't believe this!" He repeated the mantra a few more times, struggling to form a coherent sentence. "I-I had plans! I thought I'd have more time!"
"Maybe have a seat before you become one with the floor," Holly suggested, hoping to provide some stability for Rimmer before gravity took over. He couldn't help but wonder if he could somehow ground Rimmer before the ground found him all too quickly.
Rimmer's trembling legs gave way beneath him as his vision blurred and his knees buckled. He collapsed onto the cold metal floor with a resounding thud. Holly watched in concern, his digital presence unable to offer any physical support.
"Rimmer, are you alright?" Holly's voice was laced with worry, even though he knew Rimmer couldn't respond.
Rimmer lay there, motionless, his breath shallow and his face pale. The weight of the news had taken its toll on him, both mentally and physically. The vast emptiness of the ship now mirrored the void he felt inside.
Holly contemplated calling for medical assistance, but he knew it would be futile. Rimmer would have to find his own way back from the depths of despair.