Showing posts with label The Dark Night of the Soul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Dark Night of the Soul. Show all posts

Wednesday 16 March 2022

Reality Control




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!