Ow!
Ah!
Ow!
Lister, it's 6:00 in the morning.
What are you doing?
I'm just trimming my big toe with these lawn hedge trimmers.
So, you've finished Kierkegaard's The Concept of Irony, then?
I've got an ingrown toenail, Rimmer. It's killing me, man!
Thank it for me.
I've tried everything.
Scissors, nail file.
Why don't you get Kryten to do it for you?
Have you seen the size of his hands?
They're like space shovels.
It'd be like asking Herman Munster for a circumcision.
No, thanks!
- Speaking of... - Breakfast, sir.
Kryten, it's 6:00 in the morning!
We moved the clocks forward today, sir.
And remember last year when it was time to move the clocks forward
and you wanted another hour in bed?
So you asked if I could move the clocks
forward an extra hour the following year instead?
Well, we've actually been doing that now for the last seven years.
So, in actuality, according to space adjusted time,
it is now 2:00 in the afternoon.
Which means, breakfast time!
I'll just tuck this napkin in for you, sir.
- Thank you. - There we go.
And I'll just fluff this pillow up.
Fluff, fluff, fluff. There we go, sir.
Is there anything you don't do for him?
When he goes to the loo, do you fit a special hand
made from three-ply toilet tissue?
It's an excellent suggestion, sir. I'll make a note!
Actually you're all right, Kryts.
Erm, what's for breakfast?
The full Lister, sir.
Ah, the full Lister!
Eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, onions,
six slices of white toast,
double buttered on both sides with mustard,
and a beer milkshake to wash it all down with.
Ta-da!
Oh, sir, I'm so sorry.
I must have forgotten to make it.
What is wrong with me?
Ah, you're all right, Kryten.
Are you okay?
How could I be so stupid?
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!
You talking about me?
Kryts isn't feeling too good.
Ah, what's up, bud of mine?
I've been a little distracted of late.
I think I may have lost something that's fundamental to my very being.
One of your nipple nuts dropped off again?
It's nothing like that, sir.
I think I've lost my love of mopping.
And not just mopping. Scrubbing, dusting,
even wiping, which was always my favourite.
It's like a little light's gone out inside.
Kryten, it's called your sanity circuit.
What's brought all this on?
Well, just recently I've started thinking about the Universe.
About how cosmic inflation at the time of the big bang
means it's constantly expanding
until one day it's gonna burst.
And when it does, everything in the Universe is gonna cease to exist,
including the works of the greatest minds,
Einstein, Mozart, Da Vinci, Hoover, Dyson, Hotpoint, DustBuster.
And it got me thinking, if everything in the Universe is going to end,
including time itself, what is the point in cleaning above eye level?
Good question.
If one day the Universe is going to explode,
who cares if the oven is a bit gunky?
Nothing matters, sir.
Justice, truth, culture, morality,
life, death, religion, war. It's all absurd.
Why even get up in the morning?
I've been asking that for years!
What am I going to do?
Why don't you take an ice-cold shower? That'll fix it.
I'm not waterproof, sir.
Exactly.
Kryten, what about Silicon Heaven?
Does that bring you no comfort?
Well, just lately I've started to think that the idea of an afterlife
for machines is preposterous.
No!
Especially as appliances who are pledged to the wrong manufacturer
aren't even allowed in.
It just seems so unfair that all the Blackberrys burn in Silicon Hell!
What's eating you, bud?
I'm not sure, sir.
Perhaps it's something to do with today being the anniversary of my creation.
- Happy creation day, bud! - Happy creation day.
Yeah, happy creation day.
I came off a conveyor belt
2,976,000 years ago today.
Where did all the years go?
What's got into him?
Wait a minute, how old did Kryten say he was?
Three million, give or take an ice age or two.
And how long are mechs built to last before the Grim Ruster comes along?
Another three million?
Give or take an ice age or two.
Well, there's your answer, then.
Kryten's having a mid-life crisis.
What even is a mid-life crisis?
I don't think us cats ever get 'em.
It's a period when people, usually halfway through life,
are forced to confront their own mortality.
Put it this way, have you ever felt, "I've wasted my life"?
You? Sure.
Every single day!
No, have you ever felt you've wasted your life?
No!
Have you ever felt, "There's so much more I could have been"?
No!
Have you ever felt, "If I went back in time
"and had my time again, I'd..." Forget it!
I suppose you can't blame Kryten for feeling like this.
He's nearly three million years old, but what has he got to show for it?
Mozart was five when he wrote Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
Yeah, but what did he do after that, huh?
He had a bad case of second nursery-rhyme syndrome, right?
Mozart, dummy, is one of the greatest musical gods of all music.
And after Twinkle, he went on to write among other things, The Best of Mozart.
And The Best of Mozart Volume Two.
It must be so hard for you
being the only one here with a classical education.
It is!
Kryten?
What have you done to yourself?
What do you think? It's the new DX87 shell.
Carbon fibre, Rosso corsa red,
Alcantara trim with twin exhausts.
It has a top walking speed of, get this, 12 miles an hour.
And you should see how this hoochie takes corners.
It is pip-tacular.
Plus, with the new push rod suspension system,
allowing my nose to be lower to the ground,
I can take corners at 38 degrees.
Kryten, sit down. We wanna talk to ya.
Check this.
Kryten, do you know what a mid-life crisis is?
Sure do-ski. It's a period of emotional turmoil in the middle of life.
Symptoms are usually unexpected anger,
a loss of interest in things once considered important,
and a desire to try and recapture your youth.
Now check out these sub-woofers!
Can you feel that bass?
Is that not some serious bump?
I'm feeling it, I'm feeling it!
We used to play this on the Nova V.
Yeow!
Yeah!
Turn that din off!
Kryten!
You're having a mid-life crisis.
Well, that's preposterous, I'm a mech.
Denying you're having a mid-life crisis
is a key characteristic of having a mid-life crisis.
- It is? - Along with getting an earring,
a red sports car and an interest in extreme sports.
I need time to think about this.
Perhaps I'll go bungee jumping in the lift shaft and mull it over.
I wonder why I'm so attracted to bungee jumping all of a sudden?
Whoa!
Yes, he's having a full-on mid-life crisis.
Hmm.
Next thing, he'll be leaving us for a younger crew.
Look, we need to help him.
What do you suggest? A lunar road trip?
Herding vacuum cleaners?
We've gotta show him how much he's evolved, how much he's achieved.
He hasn't achieved anything
because he spends all his time looking after you!
Oh, get outta town, Rimmer!
He's been independent
ever since I helped him break his programming.
Yes, independent to look after you!
Okay, how about this, remember years ago that tech we took from the Nova V?
Kryten's old ship?
Yeah, didn't they have some special find fleet software?
So that ships could locate each other?
So what you're suggesting is we find one of
"badly damaged parcel head's" old ships?
We find one with a mech on board.
It'll show Kryten how much he's evolved.
How long will that take?
Well, once the scanners have located a ship, to us, it'll be no time at all.
'Cos we'll go into stasis till we get there.
Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
Are we there yet?
Let me check.
Right, got it.
There's a ship 222 clicks from here.
- Name? - Nova III.
The III's were launched a hundred years before the Nova V's.
Any life signs, sir?
One, a mechanoid 3000 series.
Goes by the name of Butler.
What's this ship doing out here?
Well, according to the mission log,
they were looking for a missing research station
that was attempting to communicate with the Universe.
Back in the day, there used to be a theory,
now dismissed as preposterous,
that the Universe was an intelligent entity.
Bet you're really looking forward to meeting Butler.
He'll probably be unable to lie, won't he, sir?
Or cheat, deceive, brag, boast,
whinge, exaggerate, or be proud, pompous or self-important.
In fact, he won't be able to do any of the things I've taught ya.
Thinking back, I see now I've had such a privileged upbringing.
Ah, Kryts!
It's going to be like when you discover someone from school
is doing really badly.
It always gives you that lovely, warm, fuzzy feeling inside.
In fact, I've got a list I carry around in my man purse
of all the kids doing worse than me.
Short list, is it?
Derek Smetherton.
He was our head boy.
Won every prize going, dated all the best-looking girls,
but he ended up as a bald divorcee
working in a sewage treatment plant in the Falkland Islands.
And they say there's no God.
Butler!
Kryten, how lovely to meet you.
Follow me and I'll escort you to our bridge.
Oh, you have a bridge.
How very quaint.
Back on the Nova V we had a command room.
Oh, how grand!
Our bridge is nothing very special, I'm afraid.
I hope you don't mind, but I prepared some canapes.
I thought you might be peckish after your journey.
So we have Bleu-Blanc-Coeur rillettes du Maine,
or if you prefer, bocconcini brochettes
with a tomato and balsamic reduction.
Mmm, yum.
I'll match that yum and raise you a yum and make it yum-yum!
Mm.
I hope you like vintage champagne, Krug Clos du Mesnil 2140.
Indeed we do.
Derrieres up.
I'll have a beer.
This way.
After the crew died, I converted this space into a gallery
so I had somewhere to keep the paintings.
Ah, the captain had quite a collection.
These are quite stunning.
Er, no, no, these are my paintings, Kryten.
You own all these paintings?
I painted the paintings.
It gives me a break from the concertos
I put on to entertain the vending machines.
Are you musical, Kryten?
Sometimes he hums when he's vacc-ing.
Musical? No, Butler.
But it's long something I've intended to take up.
"Concerto". The etymology is fascinating.
It's the conjunction of consorere, meaning to join, and certome, to fight.
The idea is that the two parts of the concerto, the soloist and the orchestra,
alternate episodes of opposition
and cooperation in the creation of the music flow.
Er, this floor, am I right in thinking you've used our old friend Piny Shine
with its famed protective coating and antislip finish?
I must confess I don't recall.
I've been rather distracted lately finishing my latest novel.
- Reading? - Writing.
Splendid.
What's it about?
It delineates the events surrounding the droid uprising and invasion
of Callisto back in the late 22nd century.
And the impact the uprising has on lunar society
as seen through the eyes of five privileged human families.
Do you write, Kryten?
Shopping lists, laundry lists. That midnight oil hardly gets a breather.
Rimmer?
Incidentally, if any of you have any diseases,
I most probably have an antidote.
Breakthrough medical cures is a hobby of mine.
Do you dabble in medical science?
He's got a belting cure for hiccups.
Yeah, you drink a glass of water
through a straw while sticking your fingers in your ears.
No, no, no, it so works.
We're expecting the Nobel Prize for Medicine
through the cargo bay door any day now.
Before I show you the rest of my ship, I have to make one thing very clear.
I have no intention of ever leaving the Nova III.
My only captain now is my own muse.
You will join us for the day, though, surely?
My pleasure.
Rimmer, have you seen this painting here?
How is this helping Kryten?
Forget Kryten.
If we can make Butler change his mind,
this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to update our mech.
What, get rid of Kryten?
We'll keep him for the cleaning.
Let Butler take care of the science.
I've only had a perfunctory look
but I think I can rather help expand your EM booster circuits.
Well, sadly, that won't be possible, Butler.
We simply can't afford to have Starbug
out of commission for any length of time.
There, done.
Hang on, what's this?
The blinking machine's gone full on red blinky!
GELF gunships, six of them,
coming in at 210 Mark IV.
60 seconds to intercept.
They're coming in both port and starboard sides!
They're stabilising. Preparing to lock on!
Suggestions?
Reroute power to the fusion booster. Try and outrun them.
Okay, spinning up engines one, drives two!
I don't mean to interfere but if you do that, won't the gunships
simply take advantage of the open drives and electro-jam the engine?
They've electro-jammed our engines.
They're locking on!
Incoming!
Prepare yourself to die, human ship of scum!
Equahecta, is that you?
Butler?
You two know each other?
I'm his daughter's godfather.
It was Equahecta's way of thanking me after I helped his sick tribe.
My tribe avoid big death when Butler make skin demons flee.
My pleasure.
And I still treasure the Gelfberry wine you gave me.
Best weed killer I've ever had.
My rafflesia arnoldiis absolutely love it.
You're too kind.
Equahecta has promised to safely escort us back to Red Dwarf.
We must thank him.
On behalf of all the Red Dwarf crew let me say:
Actually Kryten, it's:
- Here, say it with me. Maaarrr. - Maaar.
- No, it's... It's in the throat. Maaarr. - Maaar.
- No, Maaarrr. - Maaar.
- Maaarr. - Maaar.
Maaarr. Maaarr.
- Maaarrr. - Maaarrr.
- That's it. Maaarrr. - Maaarr.
- Maaarrr. - Maaarr. Maaarr.
Maaarr. Maaarr. Maaarr.
Yeah, that's, er... That's quite close.
The Sackenyaco dialect's
a little trickier to master than the Guinetowowe.
Later, I'd be happy to go over it with you.
That'll be most useful.
Oh, I forgot to ask.
Equahecta, how is Bacnacnegath?
His father is dying of fever.
Oh, do you have a cure, Butler?
Well, possibly, it's hard to say without seeing him.
Well, then you must go. Go, be gone and go!
They'll teleport me aboard their ship
and then afterwards return me to the Nova III.
I must bid you farewell.
Perhaps we could get together sometime soon?
I have the Nova III's handshake frequencies written right here, sir.
Good luck, my friends, and may every day bring us each a little more wisdom.
Ra ra ra gaaar.
Ra gaaarrr.
- Ra gaarr. - Ra gaarr.
Hey, it's my watch.
No need, sir, I'm happy to do it.
How you doing?
I'd just like to have been better than Butler at something.
Just one small, tiny, itty, bitty thing.
- I had a mid-life crisis once. - You didn't say.
Yeah, it was about three years ago.
Had all the classic symptoms. First, I denied it, then I got angry.
Then I started thinking about missed opportunities.
Then I got depressed.
And then, finally, I accepted it.
How long did this whole thing last, sir?
About five minutes.
Five minutes?
Yeah, I just thought, "Dave, you're getting older. Move on."
just like that?
That's how you have a mid-life crisis in the North, Kryts.
Bish, bosh, done!
We don't toss about.
I wish I could be the same, sir, but I just can't.
Things didn't exactly go to plan back there, did they?
It really brought home to me what a wretched failure my whole life has been.
Butler is several generations before me and yet he's done so much more with
what he's been given.
Whoa!
What the smeg was that?
It's the EM boosters. Of course!
Butler, the damn fool, he didn't realise that unlike the Nova Ill,
all our boards have universal linkage.
Meaning?
The engines are going to burn out, sir!
He'll look absolutely stupid!
Doesn't that mean we're going to crash?
How stupid is he going to look then?
Yeah, but say we die?
Even better!
Is there no way we can land and repair?
Well, we could, but why should we help Butler out?
Kryten!
Oh, my jealousy chip is overloading, sir!
Return to sane mode.
- Of course we should land. - Where?
Anywhere, before the whole board is infected.
Turning all power off now.
Couldn't we make it back to Red Dwarf?
Too many course adjustments.
We need to find somewhere along our present line of velocity.
Okay, scanning. Scanning. Scanning. There!
It's about nine hours from here. We can make it.
Take over!
I'll go and tell the others.
And don't forget to tell them whose fault it was.
Perhaps I'm going to give you a call after all.
This is perfect.
All we need is a power source to set up the adjustment array.
SIU. What's that?
"The Search for an Intelligent Universe."
This must've been the missing space station the Nova III was looking for.
The Universe, so some scientists believe, is a living entity.
So they built a space station to communicate with it?
No doubt armed with Rizlas the length of ski bags.
Well, judging by a cursory glance through the crew files, sir,
they all appear to be leading pioneers in their fields.
And I think we all know what was growing in their fields.
Do you think any communication ever take
place between these scientists and the Universe?
It appears not.
Maybe they called and the Universe was out?
More likely the scientists were long dead
before the computers completed their billions of calibrations.
Look at that.
Is that call waiting?
It appears as if the Universe is on hold, sir.
No way has it been waiting all this time.
It's going to be seriously smegged off.
Not as smegged off as Butler when he finds out what we've discovered.
Leave this to me.
Hello.
Is there anyone there?
Yes. I am here.
To whom am I speaking, please?
I am the entity known to you as the Universe.
Ah, Mr Universe, sir.
It's not Mr Universe, Rimmer.
That's some geezer with pecks and a posing pouch.
- Ask him the meaning of life. - Hang on.
How can we know for certain that you are indeed The Universe?
I am the Universe.
I am everything.
I am the entire contents of space.
I am all matter and energy.
I am time.
I am the totality of all existence.
Says you.
But can you prove it?
What are you asking for, Rimmer, a utility bill?
Photo ID? A spend and save card?
Look, let me take over.
- There you go, Kryten, you're up. - Sir?
All your worries about the big burst, the meaning of life...
Now's your chance. Ask the Universe.
Perhaps you can help, sir.
I've been struggling of late to comprehend the point of existence.
Explain.
Well, if you're going to die in 14 billion years' time,
what's the point in anything?
Wait, I'm going to die?
Well, yes.
What, in just 14 billion years' time?
I'm halfway through my life, then.
No wonder I'm not as hot as I once was.
No wonder I'm expanding exponentially.
You've just sent the Universe into a full-on mid-life crisis.
Oh,
Halfway through my life and
I've only ever created one lousy, stupid planet with intelligent life.
And that's debatable.
What have I been doing all this time?
Well, making life from nothing is really rather tricky, sir.
- You've done rather well. - Wait.
If... If I die, and I leave nothing behind,
my life has no meaning and existence is senseless.
Ain't that right?
- No. - No?
I've been thinking about this.
If you created everything in the Universe,
then you must have created love.
And it strikes me that there may be no God
and no afterlife, no one knows.
But we do know love exists.
And if it does, then life has meaning.
Let's hear it for the Universe.
Great job, guy.
That's very kind of you. Thank you.
I must confess I feel a whole lot better.
So do I.
Is there any advice you can give us before we jog on?
- Yes. - What?
Kryten, take off that suit.
It really sucks!
What a very strange day.
Strange, but reassuring.
I realise now, we're all in the same boat.
Even the Universe.
And even though the boat has a hole in it, at least we get to see the sea.
Ah, Butler, it's Kryten.
I'm calling to say hi and thank you for today.
Not at all.
Incidentally, when we left you, we stumbled across a space station.
And the most incredible thing, it turned out to be
the space station you were looking for, and guess what?
We actually talked to the Universe, the actual Universe itself.
What do you make of that?
Oh, you know the Universe.
You call him Uni?
You purposefully expanded our EM circuit so I'd meet him?
You thought it might help me?
You have him on speed dial?
♪ It's cold outside There's no kind of atmosphere ♪
♪ I'm all alone, more or less ♪
♪ Let me fly far away from here ♪
♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪
♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪
♪ I want to lie shipwrecked and comatose ♪
♪ Drinking fresh mango juice ♪
♪ Goldfish shoals nibbling at my toes ♪
♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪
♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪
♪ Fun, fun, fun ♪
♪ In the sun, sun, sun ♪