Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers book. Read reviews from the world's largest community for readers. The first lesson Lister learned about space trav. Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers is a best-selling science fiction comedy The book has also been released in a Omnibus Edition and as an. Here are the first two novels of the cult series Red Dwarf in one volume – Red Dwarf Story time just got better with Prime Book Box, a subscription that delivers.
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Red Dwarf - 1 - Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers - Ebook download as PDF File ( .pdf), Text File .txt) or read book online. The Red Dwarf book series by multiple authors includes books Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers; Better Than Life, Better Than Life, Last Human, and several. red dwarf season two part 1. Kryten. Better Than Life. Thanks for the Memory RIMMER: Lister, we're not talking about books where the main character is a dog .
Rimmer confidently surmised the very same thought had occurred to him. From http: This time for someone who had to pack three months of revision into five days. I'm going to die for a second time in a fortnight. Three young, female members of the crew are injured and in need of rescue. Most Sundays were spent boothing. For me Red Dwarf Ok this has been a blast of pure nostalgia for me - I loved the series when it first aired, it had for me the right mix or humour and science fiction.
A black. I'll have the right one from her. I think this one. FIVE Lister made his way shakily down the brothel's dusky staircase and stepped onto the red. And what would sir like. Lister watched. I thought it was a bit strange the. It'll be out of commission for at least twelve months! If you hadn't heard my screams. Would you like a pick'n'mix or an off-the-peg?
The man with the false moustache was sitting in a Jacuzzi. I'm looking for someone.
It was like being trapped in a milking machine. The Madame turned to Lister. This has never happened before. I don't want a girl. I'm supposed to collect him. Before Lister could stop her.
There was an extraordinarily long pause. I'm pretty much a high-flier. I think it's a smegging brothel. The hopper lurched to a halt outside the shuttleport hopper rank. In fact. I don't think this is a small bijou eatery. Lister's fare climbed painfully from the cab.
Lister leaned out of the window. Instead of a hundred dollarpound tip. Don't cross me. That's how surprised the rubber plant was. Over the last few weeks it had witnessed the gradual deterioration of McIntyre's mental health. Eight people in all passed through McIntyre's room. His biggest and greenest leaf. Or so it appeared to the naked eye. The hologramatic. Saunders lay on the brown leather couch in the medical unit.
His last thought was: I bet this doesn't work.
The only leaf he was truly one hundred per cent happy with. Three medical orderlies duly arrived. The humans muttered darkly about why McIntyre would have done such a thing. The rubber plant knew.
They put McIntyre's body on a stretcher and took him away. The rubber plant was surprised. In actuality. If the rubber plant could have spoken. But he was wrong. The bullet passed through the back of his head. Do you believe man has an eternal soul? He couldn't be deader. I'm an engineer. You are a simulation of a possible Frank.
The effect was so convincing.
And I believe. You act in the way the computer estimates Frank Saunders would probably have acted. The Being called Frank Saunders no longer exists in this dimension. The light bee. The stigma of the Dead. And so Saunders lay suspended an infinitesimal distance above the brown leather couch in the medical unit.
Not the mark of Cain. The Cartesian Principle is: So Saunders was a computer simulation of a probability of a possible person.
And then. I want your Love Thing? He didn't feel like a computer simulation of a probability of a possible person. I possibly are! For a short time Saunders listened to the relentless clicking of the clock in the corner. What he did feel like doing was taking a small ball-peen hammer and tapping it several times on top of the balding pate of the metaphysical psychiatrist who was now twittering on about tables.
He also didn't feel like listening to another philosophical discussion about the nature of Reality. Weiner raced through his hologramatic body. And although you're not thinking. McIntyre would take precedence over Saunders and become the ship hologram.
You'd better sit down. With his superior rank. It's not as if I am. I only possibly are. I'm going to die for a second time in a fortnight. As Weiner relayed the news of McIntyre's suicide. Hologram simulation of a full human personality took up forty per cent of the computer's run-time. Maybe he's unstable. He outranked Saunders. McIntyre was a flight co-ordinator. He looked at the object sitting opposite him. In the meantime. Once the suckers had signed up.
Caldicott spent his entire working day sitting in his immaculate white uniform in the window of the recruitment centre. Lister gazed out onto the busy Mimian street and tried to read the sign on the window: Under the pool table. On a poster on the wall of the newly-painted office. Caldicott Tipp-Exed out 'David' from the surname box on the recruitment form and.
Which was white and brave. Technical Drawing'. To boldly go where no person has gone before. If his daughter had brought home this specimen. I need a date of birth for the form. It was probably some time in October. When do you celebrate your birthday? He looked like a casualty in a catering war: I was about six weeks old then.
Caldicott reflected. Four or five gangly. Mimas Central Shuttle Station. An old man. A third technician's duties basically consisted of making sure the vending machines didn't run out of chicken soup. Lister cast his eyes over the conditions of employment. He signed and pocketed the pen. When he got out. He settled on: Caldicott didn't feel this was absolutely the best time to put Lister in the picture. Leave your address. He glanced up at the white uniformed officer with the Burt Lancaster smile in the poster.
Want to bet? He wondered why he hadn't thought of this before. Join the Space Corps. You'll have to enter at third technician level. Five long years. He was signing up for five years. They stopped at the huge bank of luggage lockers and looked around. The dark-haired one banged on the door. Two Shore Patrol officers strode through the milling crowds. You didn't mess with the Shore Patrol.
I'm telling you. Not unless you wanted your skull rearranged to resemble a relief map of Mars. German and three different dialects of Chinese. We're looking for a guy called "Lister". Lister was awakened from a dream about a pickle sandwich that spoke fluent Italian by the deafening metallic clanging.
People pretended not to look at them. A group of miners stubbed out their cigarettes and finished their beers. They've found him a ship. It's a long story. I tried sleeping on a park bench. I'm just hungry. Give me a minute. It's more of a bachelor luggage-locker than -' 'How long have you been sleeping in there?
He cupped his chin in one hand. It could have been so romantic. Nice 'n' Nauseating. You're my idea of heaven. I've been around. Why don't we do it? Just promise not to bring your steel truncheon. Out of ten. But there ain't no place In the whole of Space. Lister wondered. Lister sat in the packed shuttle with the rest of the new recruits on the twenty-five minute jag up to their assigned ship.
He tucked it back into the netting of the seat in front of him. You good ol' artificial terra-formed settlement. The shuttle buzzed slowly through the groups of gar-. You know. And Away! He stared for a brief moment at the blisteringly unpromising contents page: He thumbed through the shuttle's in-flight magazine. Then back to your place for half a bottle of paraffin.
An Epicure's Delight'. Lunar City Seven. How is it possible. Maybe root through a bin for the remnants of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Like that good ol' toddlin' town.
All the ships were constructed in orbit. The scoop sucked hydrogen from the currents of space and converted it into fuel. A big. A huge. For five full minutes the shuttle ran alongside a supply ship called the Arthur C.
But it was big. This was the scoop. As the shuttle accelerated towards the redness. Eventually the shuttle reached the cusp of the star freighter's bulb. And red.
Lister's window was filled with red. As the shuttle swung out to align itself for docking. He couldn't see where it started and he couldn't see where it finished. Lister made out the thousands of tiny pin-pricks of windows and a tooth floss-thin line of light ringing the ship: Aerodynamics was never a consideration in starship design.
Lister was aware of the hot whisky breath of the burly astro beside him. Triton's OK. But first we've got to go to Triton to get the ore to take to Earth. It's worse than New York.
Petersen belched. Lister squinted out of the window again. Been on Mimas long? And Triton Immigration Control is a son-of-a-bitch. One minute it was as if they were flying through Manhattan.
For a tantalising moment. It only does two hundred thousand miles an hour. On either side. His possessions had comprised a toothbrush. High above. And he was.
I'm Chomsky. Exorcist sick. They'd been stopped at Red Dwarf customs and Petersen had been bag-searched. The head was a digitised reproduction of a balding forty year-old man. Informed that he couldn't bring the liquor aboard without paying duty.
Now Petersen was walking sideways. We're still looking for a Burroughs. NINE Lister pushed through the crowded docking bay. A sigh. Petersen tried to tip them. He's got an IQ of six thousand. You want to ask him a question? Lister, David. Date of birth, 14th October, Technician, Third Class.
All right, Dave? Four thousand, six hundred and thirty-six square yards in the regular season. Chomsky chipped in: Born Finally Petersen asked a question. Burroughs and Schmidt finally arrived, and the ten of them were herded onto the Red Dwarf's Northern Line, one of a network of tube trains which criss-crossed the length and breadth of the ship. Spread evenly throughout the carriage were more monitors displaying the genius computer, who was capable of conducting several thousand conversations simultaneously, ranging from what was on the ship's movie channel that night to discussing the melding of quantum mechanics and general relativity.
Some thirty minutes later they boarded the Xpress super lift, which whisked them up to Floor 9,, where they were met by a ship rover - a three wheel electric buggy-bus - and driven down two miles of corridors towards the sleeping quarter, Area P. I'll just go and fix up the other guys. Dull, gunmetal grey walls reflected his mood.
Neon strips around the walls simulated the time of day. Dirty yellow at the moment signalled the middle of the afternoon. A dirty orange would signal early evening, and a dirty blue would indicate night. Two bunk cubicles were carved into recesses in the wall, one above the other. To the right stood a simple pedestal wash basin and mirror, which, when voice-activated, swivelled on its base to reveal an antiquated chemical toilet bearing the legend: Lister began to wish he was in his nice, cosy luggage locker back at Mimas Central.
Behind him was a bank of fitted aluminium wardrobes, and two steps led down to what was laughingly sign-posted 'Lounge Area'. The lounge area was about two metres square, with a three-seater reinforced steel settee, and a tiny coffee. Nice, thought Lister. Very homely. The other occupant of the room left very little evidence of his existence.
Whatever he did possess was meticulously tidied away. On the wall of his bunk, the lower one, hung a homemade revision timetable in worryingly neat handwriting, and an array of startlingly complex colour codes. Beside it were a number of certificates, neatly framed, and a series of cut-out newspaper headlines, all along the lines of. Lister scanned the titles in the bookcase built into a recess above the video screen: He opened his bunk-mate's wardrobe and peered in.
Twenty pairs of identical, military blue underpants hung on coat hangers in protective cellophane sheaths, next to seven pairs of pale blue pyjamas, with dry-cleaning tags pinned to the collars.
Lister was disturbed to see that the pockets of the pyjamas bore an insignia of rank. Brightly polished boots stared unblinkingly in rows on the floor. A pair of monogrammed slippers on the shoe-trees stood beside them. Lister closed the wardrobe, struck a match on the 'No Smoking' sign, lit up, and sat down on the metal settee. Very, very nice. Behind Rogerson stood a grey-suited technician; tall and rangy, flared nostrils and wide, slightly manic eyes and a hyperactive, constantly jiggling right leg that always seemed to want to be somewhere else.
TEN On the first morning into space, Lister sat in the lecture theatre, with the other eleven members of Z Shift, in his brand new technician's uniform which made him itch in nineteen different places, while his left arm and his right buttock competed for the title 'Most Painful Appendage', following his twelve inoculation jabs.
The rest of the previous morning and the whole of the afternoon had been a long process of multifarious humiliations: When did a surgeon ever need to get to your bottom in a hurry? Lister had sat in the suite, a metal skull-cap bolted to his head, while his every memory and personality trait had been logged onto a depressingly small computer slug.
His entire life; his whole personality copied and duplicated on a piece of computer hardware the size of a suppository. Petersen's recording had crashed three times, with an error-message which read 'Non-Human Lifeform'.
In the end, they had to drip-feed him coffee and subject him to several very cold showers before his brain was functioning sufficiently well to be recorded. If, in the highly unlikely circumstance of Petersen achieving the status of 'Indispensable Personnel', and then dying, he would be retrieved as a hologram with the mater and pater of all hangovers.
The lecture theatre hatchway breezed open, and Rimmer clicked up to the podium in boots so brightly polished you. Rimmer stood there. Rimmer sat at his slanting architect's desk and whiled away the time until Lights Out reading a book called: I am your shift leader. You will call me "sir" or "First Technician".
Rimmer had played the part of a man who'd never met Lister before very credibly indeed. D'you know what K. And if you K. Enough silence. Cleaning and Sanitation Unit this ship. The previous evening in the sleeping quarters. Rimmer gripped the podium tightly. He was. More speech. The book said silence could be as effective as speech. Use silence. What I do intend is for Z Shift to become the best. This is my very first command. From now on.
He then twirled his wrist in five circles. It washes. And he was especially proud of the macho bit at the end about the sonic super mop.
Lister stood up and snapped a salute. It was a great salute. The one he'd drawn diagrams of and sent off to the Space Ministry.
Rimmer gave them another shot of silence. It had gone well. I Love This War. He'd have to teach them all his own salute. The best silence yet. You work with it. I want a member of Z Shift to be there within four minutes. Some great silences. More silence. It went thus: It just made him look like he'd forgotten what he was saying. And from now on. Still more silence. Wherever you go. Some good silences. Rimmer thought. One clown. Without warning he wheeled round and pointed. I think you're mentally unstable.
He looked up at the small black shark eyes. He was a good eighteen inches taller than Rimmer. Rimmer smiled. Time to strike. And the rest follow like lambs. To crush a minor mutiny. This was a tricky situation. His book on 'Poweramics' was quite clear on that. Real power. Rimmer climbed down from the podium and slowly. It had to be stamped on. One wag. And Rimmer was tall. One imbecile. On your feet! Slowly they stopped laughing.
Don't look angry. There were also variants: Z Shift began to meander out of the lecture theatre. Shift dismiss. Rimmer smiled and nodded. As the man half-turned.
Rimmer was having his head rhythmically beaten against one of the desk tops. On Rimmer's side. Rimmer looked at his left boot. I hope you brought enough along. I can see with you it's going to take a little longer. Rimmer leapt through the air and.
As Lister left the theatre. Rimmer rocked back and forth on his heels. I'd like to try and explain why I did it. Dione and Rhea playing 'Toot'. McIntyre rose to the sound of tumultuous applause. Debts he'd incurred during his ship leave in bars on Phoebe. McIntyre sat at the top table.
I know there's a rumour going round that I committed suicide. McIntyre wrote to the Society. And McIntyre had. Before he knew it. The ferocious gastropods.
McIntyre admitted it was a cruel and pointless sport. In desperation to pay off the Ganymedian Mafia who ran the snail pits. But the buzz from watching two killer snails charging about slowly in the concrete pit. The clause was concealed in a microdot. He didn't know it when he signed. McIntyre agreed to meet a representative from the company's head office when the ship docked over Mimas.
McIntyre had debts amounting to almost five times his annual salary. You could lose a lot of money playing 'Toot'. The clause in the contract which specified this took the term 'small print' into a whole new dimension.
McIntyre donned his dress uniform and went to the coffee lounge of the Mimas Hilton. Though they'd been aboard less than two days. Half-crazed with fear. McIntyre was force-fed his own nose. The huge sound system vibrated and shook as it pumped out a Hip-hop-a-Billy reggae number from a band which had been red hot for two weeks.
Two thousand crew members stood on the dance floor. He could continue his life. McIntyre finished his speech by thanking everyone for their understanding. McIntyre didn't even understand it himself. Which is why he was telling everyone who would listen how great it was to be dead. After the toast. He needed little further persuasion before deciding to try a new repayment plan. Phil Burroughs had accidentally got himself attached to Lister's group. For some reason he couldn't understand. In his version.
He knew for a fact Chen and Petersen were filching at least two of his four pints. Three identical barmen asked for his order.
Lister finished his story about how he'd been shanghaied aboard. Although there were only five of them at the table. For some reason. What the hell are you doing? It would be a full twenty-four hours before he realised he had joined the wrong group. It didn't seem to matter whether or not you wanted them. Each round Phil had requested a low alcohol white wine. Back at the table.
Except for Phil. He asked for twenty pints.
Selby and himself. He'd embellished it only slightly. Phil was a serious-minded academy undergrad on a two-year attachment.
I'll have to wander around my house in a spacesuit. Can you imagine what will happen to house prices once the atmosphere's breathable? They'll rocket. But that's why it's so cheap! He was trying to work his passage across the solar system to Triton.
As he explained. There's a plot of about two thousand miles right next door to me. He'd arrived on Mimas on a nuclear waste dump ship called Pax Vert. Petersen took his turn. Petersen had bought a twenty-five bedroom home dome. Was he serious? For just two thousand dollarpounds. Press Your. So many people. There was a loud scraping of chairs as people stood up and guided their partners onto the already packed dance floor. He squinted drunkenly around the vast disco. Lister suddenly found himself alone at the table.
Lumps Against Mine. It was smooch time. In just over seven months. People dancing. He looked at his watch. He was waiting for Petersen to show up. And now it was something below deeply dull. In all. Just a few. It was. Nine times. Dull and gruesomely monotonous as his social life was.
Rimmer was sitting at his slanting architect's desk. Then very dull. Lister knew for a fact it was at least four hundred and seventy-four times more interesting than his working life on Z Shift under Rimmer. Lister stared out of the sleeping quarters' viewport window and saw nothing.
It was pretty much the same view he'd had for the past twenty-one weeks At first he'd found it awe-inspiring Then. Then deeply dull. If you went to the British Library and changed every word in every single book to the word 'dull'.
It wasn't the most important thing in his life. Frankie the First Officer. It was like trying to eat wads of cotton wool. Rimmer wanted to become an officer. Given the opportunity. If you could sue sperm. Howie the Test Pilot. But he had to do something much more demanding.
He ached for it. Little morsels that stuck in his gullet. Frank was a gnat's wing away from becoming the youngest captain in the Space Corps. He nibbled away. He had to pass the astronavigation exam. Each night he persevered. Born on Io. I'd sue the sperm that made you. I will become an officer. Mother One day. It was his life. Each night he nibbled away at his skyscraper-high stack of files which stored his loose-leaf revision notes.
He would happily have inserted two red hot needles simultaneously through both his ears so they met in the middle of his brain. Fourth Class. He yearned for it. Howard had graduated third in his class at the academy and was now a test pilot for the new generation of demi-light speed Zippers at Houston. John was the youngest captain in the Space Corps. But he persevered.
Earth 'My boys. And now he sat there.
He found the process of revising so gruellingly unpleasant. Or any of the things he needed to be interested in to pass the exams and become an officer. Their success filled him with such bitterness. That had been six years ago Six long years on Red Dwarf. And so. Or quantum mechanics. Promotes concentration! Aids retention! He wasn't cut out for it He would have realised he wasn't the slightest bit interested in astronavigation. Three times he'd failed the entrance exam to the Academy.
At school Rimmer was always at his happiest colouring in geography maps: Up until the age of thirteen. He'd spend the. Gripped by an almost deranging panic. By lunchtime he'd overdose. Weeks of patient effort would be spent planning. He'd then have to cram three months of astronavigation revision into a single week.
Rimmer would spend the whole of the first remaining day in bed. At this point he would start smoking A lifelong nonsmoker. To prepare for an unrelenting twenty-four hours a day sleep-free schedule. A month of revision to be crammed into each day. The sedative usually sent him off to sleep. After this point. The only problem was this: This time for someone who had to pack three months of revision into five days. The effect was as if a myriad tiny rainbows had splintered and sprinkled across the poster-sized sheet of creamwove card.
Because five days now had to accommodate three months' work. Every hour of every day was subdivided into different study periods. The first 'X' he'd achieved when he'd actually managed to get hold of some real amphetamines. There he would sit. This done. Maybe he didn't know a single thing about astronavigation. Two days to go. This would often take five or six hours.
Realising he was getting nowhere. Two small beers and three hours of stomach-knotting relaxation later. Waking at four-thirty in the morning. He'd even gone out for extra paper. Petersen clumped noisily into the room and did his traditional parody of the full Double-Rimmer salute.
Hopelessly and helplessly in love. This was the two hundred and fifty-second time. Lister and Petersen then went down to the Copacabana Hawaiian Cocktail Bar for the hundred and thirty-fourth time.
What was more shocking than anything was that he'd thought he'd done quite well Well. The first time Lister had seen it. But it was a nice face. The officer just looked at her blankly.
She got her drinks and went back to her seat. That was. That was the first thing Lister noticed about her. When she smiled. Touched her on the shoulder. It wasn't a face that could launch a thousand ships.
It was called Learn Japanese. And she smiled a lot Lister could perhaps have survived the smile. They were both standing at the bar. But it was when he found the smile was attached to a sense of humour that he became irretrievably lost.
The tanned. Maybe two ships and a small yacht. Lister had noticed it too. His heart sank when a tanned. It wasn't a beautiful face. It was to be their only shore leave between Saturn and Triton. She's going for peanuts. Lister became a walking cliche. She got up again. She got up to go to the bar.
Blew it. For the next hour Petersen droned on about the supply station at the Uranian moon. If he hadn't been crazy about her. Lister got up. Believing him mad, Rimmer makes his way back to the sleeping quarters, passing the Cat as he laments a lost tooth. Lister catches up with him at their quarters, where the Cat is standing, having just seen himself leave.
Holly explains that these are 'future echoes', a side effect of light speed travel. A polaroid photo appears on Lister's bunk, showing him holding two babies. Lister reaches to grab it, but it vanishes.
Later, an explosion rocks the ship and Rimmer claims to have seen a future echo of Lister dying in a navi-comp accident. Lister reckons if he can stop the Cat breaking his tooth, as seen in the previous echo, then it means he won't necessarily die. He concludes the Cat will try to eat his robot goldfish and races off to stop him.
Indeed, the Cat is attempting to eat one of the fish as Lister arrives. He tackles the Cat and sends them crashing to the floor, breaking one of his teeth off.
Eventually, Holly informs them that the navi-comp is malfunctioning, unable to cope with the influx of data at light speed, and someone needs to make a bypass or the ship will explode. Resigned to his fate, Lister puts on the clothes Rimmer saw him wearing and heads to the drive room. Guided by Holly, Lister sets up the bypass and the navi-comp is stabilised. Lister realises that it is not going to explode. He and Rimmer argue about it on the way back to the sleeping quarters, where they see a very old Lister.
He explains that it was Lister's grandson that Rimmer saw die in the drive room and tells Lister to get his camera and run to the medical unit. As Lister arrives at the Medical unit another Lister comes out, holding twin babies Jim and Bexley , and smiles for the camera. Present Lister takes the picture they previously saw in the sleeping quarters. On board the Nova 5 , s the crew settles into stasis and prepares for the trip back to Earth, the ship ploughs into an icy moon, killing all but three crew members.
It turns out that Kryten , the ship's mechanoid, washed the navigation computers, causing them to malfunction. Back on Red Dwarf , Holly informs the crew that they are receiving a distress call.
Kryten manages to communicate with the crew. Three young, female members of the crew are injured and in need of rescue. Upon boarding the Nova 5 , Lister notices that the ship's engines are far more advanced than the Dwarf's.
When Kryten introduces Lister, Rimmer, and the Cat to his female charges they find that the girls have been dead for millions of years. When Rimmer confronts Kryten about the dead girls, Kryten has an emotional breakdown. He had convinced himself they weren't dead, as he enjoyed being needed.
Kryten informs the crew that he now has no function, removes his head, and shuts himself off. The crew salvages the two halves of the Nova 5. Lister attempts to repair Kryten. After much work, he brings the mechanoid back online and asks him about the Nova's duality drive.
Kryten reveals that the new technology could bring the crew back to Earth in a matter of months, but the fuel decayed centuries ago. Rimmer, meanwhile, explores the second half of the Nova 5 and finds it too has a hologram projection unit. He decides to make a duplicate of his own disk, since no-one else likes him.
Lister decides to repair the Nova 5. He, the Cat, and Kryten will fly to a nearby moon to mine for the isotope needed for fuel, while the Rimmers will stay behind and repair the ship. Lister finds the work harder than expected, as the Cat refuses to do more than five minutes of mining a day while Kryten feels uneasy performing tasks that aren't serving refreshments.
Meanwhile the Rimmers try to one-up each other, working harder, exercising longer, and going without sleep. After months of work, the mining trio return to the ship. The Nova is repaired, but the Rimmers are having a fight. The original Rimmer realises that he cannot even get along with himself. Lister then points out only one Rimmer can go back to Earth.
He flips a coin, and the original Rimmer loses. He is to be erased in the morning. Rimmer spends a miserable night, reflecting on how much of life is luck and how he never had any. He tells Lister he wants to be turned off then. Lister asks him about gazpacho soup and why it torments him. Rimmer tells Lister about the night he was invited to the captain's table after years with the company.
Thing started it go wrong before it began, as the escort agency he paid to send him a date for the evening turned into a chinese laundry. Then, when he got to the dinner, he claimed that his date had been killed in an accident earlier that day. Later, he started to tell a joke but forgot the punchline halfway through, leading the other guests to think he was half-mad with grief.
When the chef served Rimmer gazpacho soup, Rimmer saw a chance to impress the others and loudly complained and berated the waiter, sending the soup back to the kitchen to be warmed up. He did not know the Spanish dish was meant to be served cold and later realized his mistake and that everyone else's laughter was directed at him instead of the waiter. Rimmer attributes his failure in the Space Corps to this gaffe. Lister tries to convince him that anyone could have made that mistake and it was not worth tormenting himself.
He then tells Rimmer that he already erased the double; he just wanted to know about the soup. The trip on the Nova 5 was a success, the crew has returned to Earth. Humanity is more or less unchanged, and the crew become heroes.
Lister hated the notoriety and moved to the small American town to live in peace. Bedford Falls, as it turns out, is almost exactly like its namesake from Lister's favourite film, It's a Wonderful Life.
Lister married Kristine Kochanski a direct descendant of, and identical to, the original Kochanski from Red Dwarf. They have twin sons, Jim and Bexely, and Lister has never been happier.
However, his arms have begun hurting for no reason, and he is starting to worry. When Lister applies ointment to the painful spots, he is shocked to find the pain spells words: Meanwhile, Rimmer is the third richest man in the world. He invested the money he made as a product spokesman into hologramatic research, and developed the 'solidgram. He lives in a penthouse above Paris and is married to a Brazilian actress named Juanita Chicata. However, she has not let Rimmer touch her for over a year, and she admits to sleeping with the pool man.
Back in Bedford Falls, Lister is starting to panic. He realises his life is impossibly happy: Lister flies to Paris to meet Rimmer, who is having a huge party. He informs Rimmer that they are playing 'Better Than Life', a virtual reality video game, and are actually still on Red Dwarf. Rimmer balks, but when he realises that his house guests include Lenin, Archimedes, God and Norman Wisdom who are all getting drunk, he decides Lister may have a point.
They agree to fly to Denmark to meet the Cat. En route, Rimmer wonders why, if he is really playing Better Than Life, his wife cheats on him. He realizes his self-hatred is so ingrained that the program decided he wanted to be unloved and humiliated. He envies Lister's simple fantasy. Lister, on the other hand, feels like a dope for still obsessing over Kochanski, and envies Rimmer's fantasies. When they arrive in Denmark, they have no more doubts about playing Better Than Life: The Cat is living in a castle surrounded by a milk-filled moat, serviced by an army of giant Valkyrie warriors.
After explaining the situation to the Cat, Kryten whose fantasies only involve getting a new mop arrives and explains what happened. Heavily boozed while celebrating their departure, the Cat had found a cache of game headbands in Petrovich's old quarters and put one on.
Lister and Rimmer tried to go into the game to save him, drunkenly overconfident of their ability to escape, but never came out as the game protects itself by removing the memory of being put on, making the person think that everything that is happening is reality despite the implausibility.