Look man, You know the score.
Why do I know the score?
Because You're Me.
We're shot from
the same gun-barrel.
Only difference is,
one did breast-stroke,
one did crawl.
Well, The Legend tells of a droid --
a rogue simulant, who survives
till the end of Eternity; to the
end of Time-Itself.
After millions of years alone,
He finally reaches the conclusion
that there is •no• God,
•no• afterlife, and the only
Purpose of Existence is to lead
a worthwhile Life.
And so the 'droid constructs a
time machine, and roams Eternity,
visiting every single soul in History,
and assessing each one.
He erases all those who have wasted their lives and replaces them with those who never had
a CHANCE of Life -- the unfertilised eggs,
the sperms that never made it.
THAT is The Inquisitor --
He PRUNES away The Wastrels,
EXPUNGES The Wretched,
and DELETES The Worthless!
RIMMER:
We're in Big Trouble.
A city inside a dome on some moon somewhere.
2 Int. A bedroom on Earth.
A middle-aged man is sleeping in a darkened bedroom.
A tall, black-caped figure with a black and white mask
similar to a skull appears in the doorway, backlit
and with smoke curling around his ankles.
He booms the next line out with, curiously,
a slight Scottish accent.
INQUISITOR:
Thomas Allman!
ALLMAN, a stout man with gray hair,
scrabbles about on the nightstand looking for his glasses.
INQUISITOR:
Thomas Allman, you have been found
unworthy of having existed.
ALLMAN:
Is that you, mother?
INQUISITOR:
Your Life and all Memory of You
will be wiped from History.
The Void you occupied in the Space-Time continuum
will be allocated to a person who was
never given The Gift of Life.
May they spend their time more wisely.
The INQUISITOR shoots an orange-red beam of light at ALLMAN from a glove-like device he wears, which forms an aura around ALLMAN.
ALLMAN:
But, please! Why me?
There must be others who've
lived worthless lives!
INQUISITOR:
All will be judged.
In ALLMAN's picture of himself on his nightstand, his image is replaced with that of a thinner, taller dark-haired man with a mustache. The dark-haired man then appears in the room in a flash of yellow-green light.
INQUISITOR:
It is complete.
All that remains is to delete
your physical form.
The INQUISITOR shoots another red-orange beam
at ALLMAN, who sort of dissolves.
He then turns to speak to the new ALLMAN.
INQUISITOR:
Sorry to disturb you, sir.
Reality Control.
The INQUISITOR salutes,
turns, and vanishes.
The Batman :
There's a difference between
Me and You :
We both starred in The Abyss....
But when it looked back into Us --
You blinked.
A door opens and the SECOND KRYTEN
and SECOND LISTER walk through.
They are very similar to the first KRYTEN and LISTER,
but the SECOND KRYTEN's head is more rounded,
and his voice is a little higher pitched.
The SECOND LISTER is dressed similarly,
but he is slightly smaller and has a worse haircut.
SECOND LISTER:
Who the smeg are these guys, Rimmer?
LISTER:
Never mind, "Who the smeg are these guys?"
Who the smeg are you?
SECOND LISTER:
I, The Smeg am Lister!
KRYTEN:
Of course! He's the alternative You!
One of the many David Listers
who never got a chance to exist.
LISTER:
So we're kind of...
Sperms-in-law?
KRYTEN:
Yes, sir.
SECOND KRYTEN:
Delicately put, sir.
CAT:
So whatta we do with 'em?
RIMMER:
I say waste them.
LISTER and SECOND LISTER: (Together)
Rimmer, for smeg's sake!
SECOND LISTER:
He's such a dork, man!
LISTER:
You're tellin' me?!
RIMMER:
Look, they come here with some cock-and-bull story,
they're chained together like Sidney Poiter
and Tony Curtis -- I say
open the door to oblivion
and kick 'em through.
SECOND LISTER:
Rimmer, no one's killin' no one, allright?
LISTER:
Yeah, right!
RIMMER:
Look, they're from some freaky alternative dimension,
they've come here to hijack this ship and do...
oooh, weird things to us.
I think we should take the lift,
put them on the security deck
and stick them in The Brig.
CAT:
I hate to say it, but for once
TransAm-wheel-arch-nostrils
is right. Come on, get moving!
RIMMER:
What did you call me?
9 Int. Lift.
Cut to everyone packed together in a very old lift --
the kind with fold-up iron grating instead of a door.
The LISTERs are having a conversation.
LISTER:
Look man, You know the score.
SECOND LISTER:
Why do I know the score?
LISTER:
Because You're Me.
We're shot from
the same gun-barrel.
Only difference is,
one did breast-stroke,
one did crawl.
SECOND LISTER:
What are you tryin' to say?
LISTER:
I'm saying--
LISTER is cut off when the INQUISITOR appears on the floor above them and begins shooting orange lasers at them through the floor (which is metal
grating.)
LISTER:
That's him, guys!
General panic ensues as everyone tries to escape.
LISTER and KRYTEN become separated from the group.
The SECOND LISTER and SECOND KRYTEN are
blown up when the INQUISITOR's lasers
touch off an explosion.
KRYTEN:
C'mon, let's go.
LISTER:
Let's go back!
Let's go back!
They return to where they heard The Explosion.
LISTER crouches over the bodies of the SECOND LISTER and SECOND KRYTEN.
They have been literally
blown to pieces.
LISTER:
Oh my god.
Hang on a minute,
I can use this. C'mon, go!
LISTER has picked up something,
but we couldn't see what.
They continue running.
LISTER:
If we got down to the transport decks,
maybe we could nick one of the Starbugs,
and get outta town.
They come upon A Door.
KRYTEN :
Uh-oh, A Door.
We'd better use an air vent.
LISTER:
No need.
KRYTEN:
Sir?
LISTER:
Look, I'm gonna do something now, Kryten,
that's totally, totally gross.
I don't want you to look.
Turn around.
KRYTEN:
What?
LISTER:
Trust me, you don't wanna know!
KRYTEN reluctantly turns around.
LISTER pulls the object he picked up earlier
out of his jacket: it's a hand.
He presses the severed hand to
the palm-print device, and the door opens.
He puts the hand back in his
jacket and turns around.
KRYTEN has a sick look
of realisation on his face.
KRYTEN:
Logically, sir, there is only one way
you could have possibly have
opened that door.
I feel quite nauseous. Where is it?
LISTER:
Where's what?
KRYTEN:
Oh, sir!! You've got it
in your jacket!!
LISTER:
I got us out of the hold, didn't I?
KRYTEN:
Sir, you are sick!
You are a sick, sick person!
How can you possibly even
conceive of such an idea?
LISTER:
Cheer up! Or I'll beat you to death
with the wet end!!
KRYTEN:
Sir, if mechanoids could barf,
I'd be onto my fifth bag by now!
You're a sick person! Sick! Sick!
LISTER: (Overlapping)
C'mon, Kryten, let's go! C'mon!
