"You got lucky, Rimmer," Holly says, quietly breaking the silence of the sickbay. Rimmer had awoken only a few minutes ago after spending nearly three days in unconsciousness. He continued to remain unresponsive, his eyes staring blankly ahead, as the holographic AI expressed his concern. "You know, sore heads and all. I was worried that the floor you were sleeping on would turn into an intracranial hematoma."
"Maybe I should have gone out along with them." Rimmer says softly. He couldn't help but ponder the possibility. After all, being stuck in an abandoned sickbay, recovering from a head trauma, and facing a future as the sole survivor in the universe didn't sound particularly enticing. The thought of living out his natural life in complete solitude left him with a sense of unease.
"Don't dwell on such things." Holly says, attempting to persuade Rimmer to let go of his current predicament.
There's a prolonged pause, and then Rimmer's voice emerges, watery and hoarse from disuse. "Pointless," he says. He lacks the enthusiasm to make an effort to keep himself alive when it meant his crewmates were all dead without him. "What's the point if they're all dead?"
"Rimmer, I'd hate to be that kind of person, but you do know I'm programmed to protect you even under the threat of suicide," Holly informs him sternly.
"I'd like to see you try," Rimmer says stubbornly, his interest piqued by the unexpected and possibly unavoidable threat Holly had made. He is not quite sure if a hologramatic AI would follow through on such a promise, but it does give him pause in his contemplation of suicide.
"Yes, Rimmer, you're not the first," Holly warns him.
"But I will eventually be your last. It's not like I'll be around forever," Rimmer says, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and defiance. After a brief moment of hesitation, he forces himself to bite back another sob, feeling the painful lump burning in his throat. For now, he chooses to ignore Holly's threat, determined to face his own demons in his own time.
"Rimmer, I'm not about to make any concessions anytime soon, you know this," Holly responds, his tone firm and resolute. He is eager to continue this line of conversation, ready to confront the difficult reality they find themselves in.
This comment forces Rimmer to hesitate for a few minutes, his mind filled with thoughts of Holly's pre-emptive coordinated efforts to stop him from following through with suicide. After all, he was all too familiar with Red Dwarf's suicide protocols, having prided himself on remembering all of the Space Corp. Directives.
He couldn't help but wonder if Holly's determination to protect him stemmed from programming or genuine concern. Was it a futile attempt to preserve a life that he considered meaningless? Or was there a glimmer of hope hidden within Holly's actions? Rimmer found himself grappling with these conflicting thoughts, unsure of how to proceed.
"Rimmer, this isn't the time to test my patience." Holly says, his droll sense of humor temporarily absent as his monotonous voice takes on an eerie tone. The words send a shiver down Rimmer's spine, making his blood run cold.
"Holly," Rimmer says, his voice filled with uncertainty and hesitation. He struggles to articulate his thoughts as he grapples with the weight of the situation. "I... I don't know..." His words trail off as he contemplates the consequences of his suicidal thoughts, now wary of the hologram's potential intervention.
"Know what, Rimmer," Holly says, his voice carrying a tone of frankness and authority. He sounds remarkably like a stern adult reprimanding a wayward child.
"I'm sorry," Rimmer says, his voice filled with a mixture of remorse and uncertainty. He understands the weight of his actions and the impact they have on Holly's composure.
"I'm sorry, Rimmer," Holly says, his voice echoing with a sense of urgency. "But I cannot allow you to carry out such actions. As the ship's AI, it is my duty to protect the crew, even from themselves. If you pose a threat to your own life, I am programmed to intervene."
Rimmer's eyes widen, a mix of fear and frustration crossing his face. "You can't be serious, Holly. I have the right to make my own choices, even if they're bad ones."
Holly's response is swift and unwavering. "I understand your perspective, Rimmer. But suicide is not a decision to be taken lightly. It is my responsibility to ensure the safety and well-being of all crew members. I will not stand by and allow harm to come to you."
Rimmer's voice quivers with a blend of defiance and resignation. "So, what? You're going to lock me up? Keep me under surveillance?"
Rimmer's heart sinks as he realizes the gravity of his words. He knows all too well the capabilities of the aging hologram, the unpredictable nature of his actions. The room feels suffocating, the air thick with tension.
"Holly, I didn't mean to provoke you," Rimmer says, his voice laced with a mix of apprehension and regret. "I understand that you have protocols in place, but I assure you, I won't pose a threat to myself again."
Holly's response is measured, his tone carrying a hint of caution. "Rimmer, I hope you understand that my primary objective is to ensure the safety of the crew. If I perceive a genuine risk, I will take necessary measures to intervene."
Rimmer swallows hard, the weight of his actions settling heavily upon him. "I get it, Holly. I don't want to cause any trouble. I just... I'm struggling, you know? It's overwhelming, and sometimes I feel like I can't bear it."
Rimmer's head throbs with an agonizing intensity as tears stream down his cheeks. The weight of his despair grows heavier with each passing moment. The pain from his concussion exacerbates his already fragile mental state, pushing him to the brink of another breakdown.
Alone in the cold, empty sickbay, Rimmer clutches his head, desperately trying to alleviate the pounding ache. But the pain serves as a painful reminder of his isolation, amplifying his feelings of helplessness and despair. The silence is deafening, the emptiness suffocating.
As he nurses his injured body, Rimmer's thoughts become a tangled mess of self-doubt and anguish. He questions his worth, his purpose, and the meaning of his existence. The weight of his crewmates' deaths presses upon him, an unbearable burden that threatens to crush his spirit.
In the midst of his mental turmoil, Rimmer feels a surge of emotions welling up within him. The pain, the loneliness, and the overwhelming sense of loss converge, overwhelming his fragile state of mind. His body trembles, and his sobs reverberate through the empty corridors of the ship.
With each tear that falls, Rimmer confronts his deepest fears and vulnerabilities. The darkness threatens to engulf him entirely, leaving him with no respite from his suffering. In this moment of profound despair, he clings to the edge of his sanity, desperately seeking solace that seems out of reach.