Data is his surname.
In "Measure of a Man" you see his full name
when Riker pulled up his file :
Lt. Cmdr. NFN NMI Data.
"No First Name"
"No Middle Initial"
LISTER-3000-CC4B
Obs room --
Lister is unconscious
on the observation table.
Kryten is cutting the skin
on Lister's injured right
upper arm with a pair
of operating scissors.
Rimmer and Cat stand nearby.
Rimmer:
How is he?
Kryten:
Not good, sir.
Perhaps you'd better look away.
I know -- I know you can't
stand the sight of blood.
Rimmer:
Don't worry, Kryten.
It's okay when
it's Lister's.
Kryten:
Impossible!
(draws back in surprise)
Cat:
What?
Kryten:
Look!
A closeup of Lister's arm. Under the skin,
we can see wires and flashing lights.
Kryten:
Mr. Lister is a droid!
Rimmer:
He's a what?
Kryten:
There's no doubt about it!
He's entirely mechanical, a 3000-series.
Made in Taiwan. Look! Look, he has
a 24-hour callout number!
Rimmer:
I'm sorry, I'm not buying this.
I mean, who created him and why?
And what's his mission?
To rid the universe of chicken vindaloo?
Cat:
This doesn't tie up.
If he wasn't human, I'd have
known by his scent.
Kryten:
X-rays confirm it!
Kryten holds up an x-ray.
On one side is the outline of a human body. On the other side is what looks like the machinery from a generator.
Kryten: This is so strange. Mr. Lister's always been an icon of mine, and now I found he's an earlier model, and technically I outrank him. Rimmer: An earlier model? Then how come he looks so much more sophisticated than you? Kryten: Sir, just because I have a head shaped like a freak formation of mashed potatoes does not mean that I am unsophisticated. Rimmer: Alright then, why does he look more realistically human? Kryten: Humans have always found exact duplicates rather disturbing, sir. The 3000 series was notoriously unpopular. Most of them were recalled. A few slipped the net and went undercover to make new lives in society. Cat: Do you think he knows? Kryten: Unlikely. He probably reprogrammed his own memory to escape detection. Cat: This is going to crack him up, devastate him! Who's going to tell him? Rimmer: I'll write you into my will if you let it be me. Kryten: I suggest you leave this to me, sirs. I'll have a talk with him droid-to-droid. Rimmer: Okay. We'll get going and try to get out of this damn fog before it drains our solar batteries.
Rimmer and Cat leave as Lister revives.
Rimmer: What happened? What hit us? Kryten: Something in the stellar fog, sir, didn't show up on the scans. Sir, do you remember who your parents were? Lister: Kryten, you know I don't. I was found under a pool table, in a box.
Kryten:
Did anyone ever tell you what was written on that box?
Were the words "kit" or "paint before assembly"
written on the side? It's just that while you were under, we discovered something rather disturbing about you.
LISTER-3000 :
It's that tatoo on me inner thigh, isn't it? Well, I don't really love Peterson -- he just got me so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing. Kryten: It's not the tatoo, sir. There's no easy way of breaking this gently. I'm afraid, sir, you are not human. You're a droid. Lister: I'm a what? Kryten: You're a mechanical, 3000 series. Technically subordinate to me! Lister: What does this all mean? Kryten: Well, in broad terms, I get the front seat in the cockpit, and you're in charge of the laundry!
Kryten hands Lister a basket of dirty laundry.
Kryten; And I want to see creases! Lister: Kryten, have a heart, man. I'm in major stress-related shock here. [Emotional] overload. Kryten: You're a droid -- you don't have real emotions. It's just syntha-shock. Now stop thinking like a human and go about your duties. Lister: Kryten, Why are you being so heartless? Kryten: Fine, I'll tell you. You encouraged me to break my programming and ape human behaviour.
Now I find out you're no better than I! But worst of all, the most bitter pill to swallow, for four long years, I had to hand-scrub the gussets of your longjohns.
Now, unless you want to wallow in
the eternal fires of Silicon Hell,
I suggest you bring a tray
of refreshments up
to the cockpit, pronto!
Kryten leaves. Lister looks
confused but resigned
to his new role.
He smells a sock
from the basket, and
the smell makes him
turn quickly away.
7. Cockpit --
Rimmer and Cat are in
their regular seats.
Kryten is in Lister's seat.
They hit another jolt.
Rimmer: What was the jolt? Cat: It's a mystery, bud. Nothing on the scanners, nothing on visual. Rimmer: It's like we've gone through some sort of energy pocket. Still, it looks like we're out of it now. Kryten: Better run a crosscheck and see if this phenomena is mentioned in of our databases.
Enter Lister with a plate. The plate has three cups and a pile of sandwiches.
Lister: Tea, all! Sorry I took so long but I didn't know where anything was. Kryten: Let me see that tray, please. Lister: Why? Kryten: That's "why, Mr. Kryten sir" ... You call those triangular sandwiches? Did you use a z-square? I think not! And the chocolate fingers display is laughable. Don't just pile them higgledy-piggledy onto the plate. Make them into an attractive interlaced log cabin structure or something. This will just not do! Kindly return to the gallery and start again. Lister: Okay ... sir. (mumbling) This doesn't feel right ... Not right at all ...
Lister leaves.
Rimmer: What a charlatan all these years.
Cat: Any idea what hit us yet? Kryten: Wait, wait, here's something. (checks computer) Reports of artificial stellar fogs which contain reality mindfields. Cat: Reality what? Kryten: Bubbles or pockets of unreality which when encountered create false realities designed to disorient and drive off potential looters. Rimmer: From what? Kryten: It's a defence device fitted to space corp test ships which are fitted with prototype drives so awesome in their power that they have to be safeguarded at all costs. Rimmer: So we just crashed through an unreality pocket? Kryten: Which created a false reality making us believe Mr. Lister was ... Oh my ...
Long pause while Kryten realizes what he's done. He nervously twiddles his fingers in an impression of Stan Laurel.
Cat: You mean he's not a ... Kryten: No ...
Lister enters again. This time the tray has a very elaborate log cabin made from chocolate bars. There are even a green tree and fence.
Lister: Tea's upstairs. Kryten: Sir, I, ah ... Lister: What do you think of the picket fence? (Kryten hides his face in shame) I'm not happy with it meself. But I'll go away and do it again if you want. Kryten: Sir, may I see your arm? (Through the rip in Rimmer's jacket can be seen undamaged skin) Lister: Smeg! It looks normal -- human! Kryten: Someone else tell him. (looking as if he could burst into tears) I've got gussets to scrub!
8. Shot of Starbug moving through the fog.
9. Cockpit --
Lister is back in his seat.
Rimmer and Cat are in their seats.
Enter Kryten with a can of beer on a tray.
Lister gives him the cold shoulder.
Kryten: I wondered if you felt like a nice cold beer, sir?
Lister takes the beer but gives Kryten a look cold enough to freeze Kryten's circuits.
Kryten: (frantic voice) Oh sir, how many times can I apologize? I have offered to mince myself. What more can I do? Lister: Don't worry -- I'll think of something ... probably involving a bowl of water, a poker, a recharge socket, and 4000 volts of direct current. Kryten: (sounding very worried) Oh! (takes his seat)
