From:
fraserdk@dcs.gla.ac.uk (David K Fraser)
Subject: script: DNA
Date:
Wed, 10 Aug 1994 10:53:16 GMT
Bit's I'm not sure of:
Spare
Head 3: ...I may be half round with siliconisis...
...or something like
that. Too much laughter to be sure.
--Can any Yorkshiremen help out with
this one?
LISTER: ... half man, half <...> indian curry!
--What's
that word? Sounds like "Extra-hot"?
LISTER: Back to the
<...>! -- the DNA modifier -- I've got an idea!
--What's the missing
word here?
CAT: Listen, you do realise the <...> thing is
gonna be through that
door in
a minute?
--Missing word again: sounds like "charmed" but with a
longer "r".
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RED DWARF Series IV
Episode 2, "DNA"
1 Model Shot.
A spaceship
moving through space. It is a sleek,
strangely organic-
looking ship:
the curving bands around the middle look almost like ribs,
and
there is something disturbingly Alien-ish about the projecting fins
jutting
out from behind the nose.
2 Int. The Scanning Room.
LISTER,
KRYTEN, and RIMMER are all busy at the scanners. RIMMER is
standing, calling out co-ordinates from some of
the upper screens while
LISTER and KRYTEN tap feverishly away at
keyboards, keeping up a steady
stream of technical chatter. All are tense but calm, rather
proffessional. There is a steady background noise made up
of bleeps,
pings, and whistles from the equipment.
HOLLY: Stand
by, she's coming round.
CAT enters.
His hair is tousled, and he is carrying a hairdryer. He
stops in the doorway, puzzled by all
the activity.
LISTER: (To CAT) There's something out there,
man. Some kind of UFO.
We're clamping on.
He turns back
to his keyboard. Suddenly all the
screens die and the
noises from the scanners cease.
KRYTEN:
Visual down! Radar down! What's happening?!
HOLLY: Something's
knocked out the entire desk!
CAT switches on his hairdryer. He is busy styling his hair when he
notices
the murderous expression on the faces of his friends.
CAT: What're
you all looking at me like that for?
LISTER: You've just unplugged the
console.
CAT: Right. I'm
blow-dryin' my hair.
RIMMER: We're tracking a UFO.
CAT: Oh, you're
tracking a UFO. So, I have to sit
around looking like
the bride of
Frankenstein?
LISTER: Use another socket.
CAT: This is beyond
belief! A spaceship five miles long and
they don't
fit enough plug
sockets in the scanning room!
LISTER: There's plenty of plug sockets in
the scanning room, Cat!
They're
all taken up with your beauty aids! Now
use a wall socket!
CAT: What?! Unplug my hot wax drip unsightly hair
remover!?!!?
LISTER: Yes! Unplug
your hot wax drip unsightly hair remover.
CAT: I don't believe this! We finally get to encounter an alien
species
and I have to meet them
with a wavery bikini line!
He unplugs his hairdryer and reconnects
the console. The screens light
up
again and the bleeping restarts. The
others get straight back to
work.
RIMMER: It's back, bearing
zero-niner-zero, adjust one percent...
KRYTEN: ...one to the left,
portside C locked on...
There is the noise of a hairdryer starting
up, almost drowned out by the
crackles of static as ripples of
interference streak across the screens.
The crew glare at the offending
feline.
CAT: Alright, okay.
I'll use gel. Everybody
happy?
He unplugs his hairdryer and exits. The screens steady.
RIMMER: Stabilise, pitch reduce
correctives...
3 Model Shot.
A view, firstly, of the Red
Dwarf. Then the alien craft, gliding
through
space. We see a huge
tower, topped with clamps -- part of the Red Dwarf
-- rise up from above
to meet it. The clamps attach
themselves to the
UFO.
4 Int. The Scanning Room.
LISTER:
What the hell is it?
KRYTEN: I have no idea, sir. The craft does not appear to be of
Earth
construction.
RIMMER:
Aliens! They're probably going to
return Glen Miller.
LISTER: You what!?!
RIMMER: That's what they
do. All those people who inexplicably
vanish,
they return them. Aw, smeg, that's all we need. Glen Miller on board,
boring us to death with "Pennsylvania
6-5000." KRYTEN, open
communication channels.
5 Model Shot.
The UFO,
clamped to the Dwarf.
RIMMER: (VO) We don't want him! Go away!
You took him, you can keep the
smegger!
6 Int. UFO.
The crew of the Dwarf are
walking down a strange, semi-organic looking
passageway.
KRYTEN:
How deliciously bizarre! The hall's
molecular structure conforms
to
no known element. Whoever -- or
whatever -- made this thing had
access to a technology far in advance of our own.
LISTER: Okay,
look, let's split up.
RIMMER: Why?
Why should we split up?
LISTER: Well, we'll do the search
quicker.
RIMMER: What's the hurry?
Have you got some major luncheon appointment
you have to rush off to?
LISTER: What's
your problem?
RIMMER: I'm not teaming up with him. (He gestures at the CAT.)
CAT: Me?
What's wrong with me?
RIMMER: You're totally egocentric, you flee at the
first sign of trouble,
you only
look after number one, you're vain, you're selfish, you're
narcissistic and you're self-obsessed.
CAT:
You've just listed all my best features.
RIMMER: I'm going with
Kryten.
LISTER: Come on, Cat.
CAT follows LISTER,
surreptitiously checking his hair in a small vanity
mirror.
7
Int. Somewhere else in the UFO.
RIMMER and KRYTEN are about to
venture down a darkened corridor.
RIMMER
pauses, cowardice writ large upon his features, then turns
to KRYTEN.
RIMMER: Uh, Kryten, take point. I've seen those movies.
It's always the
guy in the
lead who buys it first. You take the
front.
KRYTEN: Well, if it's movies we're talking about, sir, in my
experience
it's usually the poor
fellow who's bringing up the rear that gets
picked off first, so the others aren't aware that they're under
attack.
RIMMER: You're right, you're right. Can you take the front and the back,
so I can go in the middle?
KRYTEN: I'll
do my best, sir.
They advance down the corridor cautiously. KRYTEN, in front, shuffles
round to the
back, then he and RIMMER sidle around one another. They
proceed in this fashion down the corridor, KRYTEN alternately
taking
point and bringing up the rear, whilst RIMMER looks out for any
kind of
danger.
8 Model Shot.
UFO clamped to the Red
Dwarf.
9 Int. Another part of the UFO.
CAT and LISTER are
exploring. LISTER's walkie-talkie
bleeps. He answers
it.
LISTER:
Go, Kryten.
KRYTEN: (VO, dist.) We've found something, sir.
LISTER:
Yeah?
KRYTEN: (VO, dist.) I think it's one of the crew. A hideously malformed
triple-headed skeleton with putrified flesh
hanging from it. It fell
through RIMMER as we opened the lift
door.
LISTER: Is he all right?
KRYTEN: (VO, dist.) I believe he's
just discovered what shirt-tails are
for.
RIMMER: (VO, dist.) Alright, Kryten, you don't have to make me
sound like
a complete cowardly
gimboid git. I'm fine now.
KRYTEN:
(VO, dist.) So, shall I cancel the order to find your mother?
LISTER
and CAT enter a chamber.
RIMMER: (VO, dist.) Is that thing still
on?
The radio snaps off abruptly.
CAT: Hey, look at
this!
He's found something:
a console covered in pretty lights, facing a
screen covered in
stylishly meaningless geometric shapes, also in pretty
colours. CAT is fascinated. He pokes at a few of the pretty buttons,
causing an
insistent beeping. LISTER looks
worried: CAT is fiddling
with
dangerous technology.
LISTER: Don't mess around with that, man, we
don't know what it does.
CAT: I'm just taking a look.
He
presses some more buttons. Abruptly, a
thick beam of purplish light
descends from a point on the ceiling directly
above LISTER, pinning him
to the spot like an overweight, curry-stained
bug.
LISTER: Cheers, man, brilliant. (He tries to move out of the light, but
can't.) I'm, I'm trapped. Get me out of this thing!
CAT: Be cool,
stay slinky. I'm on the case here. I remember the
sequence.
It was red-blue-yellow.
Brimming with feline confidence, he
turns back to the console, and prods
the keys. Nothing happens. CAT
pauses, a frown creasing his forehead.
CAT: No,
blue-yellow-red.
Noises start emanating from the screen. They might have been human
speech, but
if so, then some poor sad git has put them through the
microphone
backwards.
LISTER: What the smeg is that?
10 Int.
Shirt-tails lift.
KRYTEN and RIMMER are examining the skeleton of
the three-headed monster.
KRYTEN: Curious, the skeletal form appears
to be basically humanoid in
structure.
RIMMER: He's got three heads!
KRYTEN spots
something in the tattered remains of what might once have
been the
creature's jacket.
KRYTEN: Wait.
Here's some kind of wallet.
He lifts it gingerly from its
resting places and opens it.
KRYTEN: The artifacts are human! A pilots licence, I.D, even a video
club card.
RIMMER: Are you telling me
this guy belonged to a video club and he
needed a card so they'd recognise him?
He's got six eyes and three
noses. If it were me, I'd
remember him. "Aren't you the
bloke who
came in last week,
sneezed, and caused a monsoon?"
KRYTEN: I think we can assume he
started out as human and something
happened here. Something that
mutated him in this unspeakable way.
11 Int. Back with Lister and
Cat.
COMPUTER: Language trace completed. Dialect English, colloquial
construction, 23rd century.
LISTER: (With mounting alarm)
Look, do nothing, press nothing, just go
and get KRYTEN!
CAT: Wait, I think I got it.
COMPUTER:
Transmogrification sequence initiated.
CAT: Maybe not.
LISTER: (Now
very worried) Transmogrifer-_what_!?!
COMPUTER: Gene sample accepted and
cloned. Please key in new genetic
structure.
LISTER: (Close to panic) Do
nothing. Press _nothing_. _GET_ _KRYTEN_!
CAT: Hey, you think I
can't handle this on my own? I have to
rush off
and get novelty-condom
head to bail you out? I got you into
this, I'll
get you out!
LISTER:
(Near despair) Get Kryten!
CAT: Relax, would you? I know what I'm doing!
COMPUTER: New
genetic structure accepted.
Metamorphosis in ten seconds
and counting...
The COMPUTER starts to mark off the countdown
in steady, impassive beeps.
CAT turns to face LISTER, a strained grin
frozen on his face. It's a
good
thing we can't see LISTER's expression.
CAT: I got a good idea --
why don't I go and get Kryten?
LISTER: (Close to tears) Look, forget
Kryten! Just press the pads, ANY
pads!
Stop this!
COMPUTER: Sequence complete.
There is a
bright flare of light, and every molecule in LISTER's body
flies outwards
at the speed of light... and reforms, with a rather nice
reverse explosion
effect, into a chicken.
LISTER: Cluck, cluck, cluck. Boo-urk, cluck, cluck, cluck.
KRYTEN
and RIMMER enter the room at a run.
KRYTEN: Are you okay? We detected a massive power surge in this
sector!
RIMMER: Where's Lister?
CAT nods at the chicken
scratching at the floor.
RIMMER: That's Lister?
CAT: What can I
say, except... whoops!
RIMMER: What is it?
KRYTEN: Best guess, some
kind of DNA modifier, designed to alter organic
life at its molecular level.
This would explain our triple-headed
friend back there.
RIMMER: So what does it do?
KRYTEN:
Every single cell in your body contains DNA, which is a series of
genetic instructions telling your body how
to grow. It's like a small
computer program that chooses the colour of
your eyes, tells your nose
what
shape to be, designates your sex, your height, everything -- even
your lifespan. This machine simply re-writes the DNA program.
RIMMER: So
this machine can transform any living thing into any other
living thing, by altering it's molecular
structure?
KRYTEN: Precisely.
RIMMER: And it turned Lister into a
chicken.
He crouches down by the chicken, and eyes it
thoughtfully.
KRYTEN: So it seems.
CAT: Question is, can we
turn him back again?
RIMMER: Question is, do we want to?
KRYTEN:
Hypothetically, it shouldn't be too difficult to recall his
original form. It's simply a question of decoding the keypad.
RIMMER: (To
chicken) Listy... buck buck buck buck buck buck buck. (To
the others)
It's incredible. It really _is_
him. Look, it's even got
his little beer-gut.
KRYTEN: Hmmm...
seems a fairly straightforward hexidecimal lay-out.
Logically, this should be the recall
sequence.
He punches a few keys.
The chicken vanishes. DAVE
LISTER, hamster,
sqeaks up at them angrily from the floor.
KRYTEN:
That's not it, is it? Hm. Let's start
from the top. (He starts
to pace, thinking out loud.) What happened
here, exactly?
CAT: I was pressing the pads. I definitely pressed the yellow one first,
(He presses the yellow pad.) ...and then
this thing came down!
The thing, on cue, comes down, trapping
KRYTEN. KRYTEN starts to look
worried.
CAT:
So I'm standing here, pressing the buttons (which he dutifully does)
and then this voice said--
COMPUTER:
Transmogrification sequence engaged.
CAT: Right! So I press some more buttons, and then it says--
COMPUTER:
Please key in new genetic structure.
CAT: That's it exactly!
RIMMER,
meanwhile, has noticed KRYTEN's plight.
RIMMER: Cat, stop!
KRYTEN:
There is no need to engage your panic chip, sir. The machine can
only operate on organic life. I
am mineral, and therefore immune.
COMPUTER: New genetic structure
accepted. Metamorphosis in ten
seconds
and counting.
COMPUTER:
Beep.
KRYTEN: Oh.
COMPUTER: Beep.
KRYTEN: Wait a minute!
COMPUTER:
Beep.
KRYTEN: No.
COMPUTER: beep.
KRYTEN: My brain is part
organic...
COMPUTER: Beep.
KRYTEN: ...and therefore it is _entirely_
possible...
COMPUTER: Beep.
KRYTEN: ...for the machine to...
COMPUTER:
Beep.
KRYTEN: ...transmogrify my physical condition.
COMPUTER:
Beep.
KRYTEN: Engage panic circuits.
COMPUTER: Beep.
KRYTEN:
Panic circuits engaged. Bwa-ha!
[Transcriber's
note: The facial expression for
"panic" in series 4000
mechanoids appears to have been borrowed
from Stan Laurel.]
CAT frantically punches buttons. The countdown stops, and after a
moment
LISTER is restored.
RIMMER: Are you okay?
LISTER:
Yeah, I think so.
CAT: What was it like being a hamster?
LISTER: It
was better than being a chicken! I
mean, you've seen the size
of an
egg? And you've seen the size of a
chicken's bum? Well, that's
what all the clucking was about! I was trying to say, in chicken talk,
"For God's sake, give me a
epidural!"
RIMMER: Let's get Kryten back. Press what you pressed for Lister.
CAT presses the
buttons. The beam flares with white
light, then fades.
As it does so, it reveals a much-changed KRYTEN.
KRYTEN:
My heavens. I am human.
There
is a stunned silence, broken only by the CAT, fashion critic.
CAT:
Yeah, but you've lost your looks!
KRYTEN scowls at him.
[Transcriber's
note: On the subject of looks, KRYTEN
now looks oddly
like Jim Reaper, advertising executive of Divadroid
International -- c.f.
Season III episode 6, "The Last
Day"]
12 Model Shot.
Red Dwarf exterior.
KRYTEN:
I'm human -- my greatest dream come true!
For the first time in
my
life I can experience real feelings.
13 Int. Corridor on Rerd Dwarf.
Day.
LISTER and CAT are pushing a trolley, on which sits KRYTEN,
wrapped in a
blanket. RIMMER is
bringing up the rear.
KRYTEN: I'm experiencing one now -- I'm in
"happiness" mode. I've
never
experienced anything like
it before! Oh, except for that one time
when
I accidentally welded my
groinal socket to a front- loading washing
machine. I'm alive!
14
Int. Medical unit. Day.
LISTER enters, pushing a trolley. KRYTEN is sitting up on the bed,
investigating
his new facial muscles. LISTER pauses
in the foyer and has
a private word with HOLLY, who is displayed on a
large monitor above the
door.
LISTER: How's he doing,
Hol?
HOLLY: Physically he's fine.
He's got the body of a perfectly normal 30-
year-old human male. (She gives a strange smile.)
Apparently.
LISTER: Is he alright?
HOLLY: Well, it'll take a little
while to adjust. Everything's a
bit
new.
LISTER enters
the room, pushing the trolley. KRYTEN
greets him
enthusiastically.
KRYTEN: Greetings, fellow
human! Ah, breakfast, my very first
meal!
Boiled chicken ovulations
-- delicious!
LISTER winces slightly at the reminder about
chickens.
LISTER: How you coping, man? Any problems?
KRYTEN: Well, just one or two. In fact I've compiled a little list if
you'll indulge me.
At LISTER's
nod, he pulls out the list.
KRYTEN: Now then, uh, my optical system
doesn't appear to have a zoom
function.
LISTER: No, human eyes don't have a zoom.
KRYTEN:
Well then, how do you bring a small object into sharp focus?
LISTER: Well,
you just move your head closer to the object.
KRYTEN: I see. Move your head ... closer, hmm, to the
object. (He
practises with the list.) All right,
okay. Well, what about other
optical effects, like split screen, slow
motion, Quantel?
LISTER: No. We don't have them.
KRYTEN: You don't
have them -- just the zoom? Hmm. (He holds up one
hand in a placating gesture.) Well, no,
that's fine, that's great, no,
no, that's really great, that's great.
Now then, my nipples don't
work.
LISTER: Er, in what way, "don't work?"
KRYTEN:
Well, uh, when I was a mechanoid, the right nipple-nut was used
to regulate body temperature, while the left
nipple-nut was used mainly
to
pick up shortwave radio transmissions.
Now, what I'm saying is, no
matter how hard I twiddle it, I can't seem to pick up Jazz FM.
LISTER:
Human nipples don't do that, Kryt.
KRYTEN: I see. Fine.
Ah... recharging. Now, I presume
that, uh, when a
human wants to
recharge they do it much the same way mechanoids do.
Indeed, I have located what I presume to be
the recharging socket, but
for
some strange reason it doesn't appear to have the standard three-
pin adaption.
He reaches under
the covers and holds up a 3-pin cable.
KRYTEN: Now, do I have to use
some kind of special adaptor? Because
no
matter what I do, the lead
just keeps falling out.
LISTER regards him thoughtfully for a
moment, as if trying to work out
where the smeg KRYTEN thought the cable
should go.
LISTER: Kryten, we eat and sleep -- that's our way of
recharging.
KRYTEN: Ah. Hmm. Ah
yes, now, I wanted to talk to you about something.
Something about, um, well, something I know
we humans get a little
embarrassed about. It's a bit of
a taboo subject -- not the sort of
thing we like to sit around and chat about in polite conversation.
LISTER:
Kryten, I'm an enlightened twenty-third century guy. Spit it
out,
man.
KRYTEN: Well, I want to talk to you about my penis.
DAVE
LISTER, enlightened 23rd century guy, reacts exactly as would an
unenlightened
20th century schoolboy.
KRYTEN: I knew it, you've gone straight into
smirk mode. Aren't we both
two human adults? Can't we discuss our reproductive system without
adolecent sniggering?
LISTER: Yeah, of
course we can.
KRYTEN: Thank you.
(He hands LISTER a polaroid.) Well?
LISTER: "Well"
what?
KRYTEN: Well, what do you think?
LISTER: I'm not quite with you
here, Kryten. What am I supposed to
say?
KRYTEN: I want to know: is
that normal?
LISTER: What? Taking
photographs of it and showing it to your mates?
No, it's not!
KRYTEN: Well, but is it supposed to look like
that?
LISTER: Well, yeah.
KRYTEN: It's hideous! That's the best design they could come up
with?
Are you seriously telling
me there were choices, and someone said "Ah,
there, that's it. That's the shape we're looking for: The last-
chicken-in-the-shop look?" Shakespeare had one? Einstein?
Perry Como
sang
"Memories are Made of This" with one of those stashed in his
slacks?
LISTER: Well, yeah.
KRYTEN:
No wonder humans don't have a zoom mode!
Ugh. Now, take a look
at this.
He hands LISTER a second
polaroid. LISTER rotates it several
times,
perplexed
KRYTEN: ...and this.
He hands
LISTER another polaroid. LISTER holds
the two snaps side-by-
side, then top to bottom. His eyes bug out as he realises what he is
seeing.
KRYTEN:
Now why do you suppose that happened?
LISTER: Wwwwwhat were you thinking
of at the time?
KRYTEN: Well, nothing in particular, sir. I was just idly flicking
through an electrical-appliance
catalogue. I came across the
section
on super-deluxe vacuum
cleaners and suddenly my underpants elastic was
catapulted across the medical bay.
LISTER: You see, man,
you're neither one thing or the other.
You
shouldn't be getting
erotic thoughts about electrical appliances.
KRYTEN: It was a triple-bag
easy-glide vac with turbo-suction and a self-
emptying dustbag.
He wiggles his eyebrows in a highly
suggestive manner.
LISTER: Kryten, I don't care what model it
was. No vacuum cleaner should
give a human being a double polaroid. Do yourself a favour, man,
change back.
KRYTEN: Back? Become one of those poor sappy sad-act
mechanoids again?
This is my
dream. Hey listen, listen, I've got a
joke for you. Now,
how many mechanoids does it take to change a
lightbulb?
LISTER: (Sadly) I don't know.
KRYTEN: Twelve. And you know why?
LISTER: (Even sadder)
Why?
KRYTEN: Because they're so stupid!
Uhuhuhuhuh. Isn't that just
the
greatest joke? Huhuh.
I've got another one. Ever heard
of the
mechanoid
peeping-Tom? (Looks at his penis
repeatedly, like a
machine.)
Uhuhuhuhuh.
LISTER leaves, dejectedly. KRYTEN's echoing laughter follows him down
the hall.
15
Model Shot.
Red Dwarf in space.
16 Int. Sleeping
Quarters.
CAT and RIMMER are taking turns to peer through the
eyepieces of a
microscope at something on its sample tray.
CAT:
Man, this is a totally wacked-out idea.
It's never going to work.
RIMMER: That DNA machine can do
anything. Why shouldn't it work? The
hard part was finding one of my dead cells.
CAT: You really think
you can clone yourself from your own dandruff?
RIMMER: Why not? Dandruff has DNA in it. That machine has a clone
facility.
CAT: But a man made from
dandruff? It's never going to
work. The first
time you take a shower with medicated
shampoo, you'll disappear.
RIMMER: I won't be _made_ of dandruff -- my
body will be recreated from
the
genetic pattern contained in its structure.
LISTER enters, still
morose.
CAT: How's Kryten?
LISTER: Confused. If he ever offers to show you his photo
collection, my
advice is: decline, politely.
LISTER pulls a
frozencurry from the freezer, and removes the foil lid.
RIMMER: I
bet he can't believe his luck. He's
reached the pinnacle of
the
evolutionary mountain. He's a
human.
LISTER leans against the wall, frowning.
LISTER:
What's so big about being human?
RIMMER: Listy, don't knock it till you've
tried it.
LISTER: I just don't trust that machine, man. Look, I know it's old-
fashioned, but I'm from the school that
believes, "If God intendeed us
to fly, he wouldn't have invented Spanish air traffic
control". Okay,
that machine might be able to cure diseases
and stuff, but you
shouldn't use
it to change you into what you're not.
You are what you
are. Wasn't it Descartes who said, "I am
what I am?"
RIMMER: No, it was Popeye the Sailor Man.
LISTER:
Well, whoever it was, he was a hell of a philisopher. And I
think what he
was trying to say was, you got to stay true to what you
are.
LISTER crosses over to the
dining table, and sits down in a chair.
RIMMER, by contrast, springs to
his feet and starts to pace.
RIMMER: Oh, here we go. Typical knee-jerk techno-fear reaction. That
machine is the greatest single technological advancement mankind
has
ever made. Gretaer than fire, greater than the
wheel.
CAT: What about the dude with three heads? What happened to him?
RIMMER: Well, he
abused it.
LISTER: Right, yeah, someone always does.
RIMMER: Are you
two seriously suggesting that you're _not_ going to use
it?
There's nothing about your bodies you'd like to improve?
CAT: Me?
Are you serious? Most people leave
their bodies to medical
science. I'm leaving mine to the
_Louvre_, babe!
LISTER: At some point in their lives, most people wish
they were someone
else. This is going back years, years, before the
accident. Kochanski
had just finished with me, and I was feeling
really pony. So I went
for a walk in the botanical gardens, and I
saw this squirrel, climbing
up
and down the tree collecting nuts. And
it stopped, and it looked at
me,
and I thought: "You lucky little
sod -- you like your job, you're
your own boss, and you've got no woman trouble, so you'll never feel
as
bad as I feel now. And at that moment, I mean for a split
second, I
would have given
anything -- _anything_ -- to swap places with him.
CAT: Ah, that's awful,
man. When a woman screws you up so bad
you want
to become a
squirrel.
LISTER: It just made me think that a lot of the time, being
human isn't
much fun!
RIMMER:
So, Lister, what are you telling us?
You're a closet squirrel?
Behind closed doors, you parade up and down with a strap-on bushy
tail
calling yourself
"Nutkin?"
LISTER gets up and crosses to the kitchern
area. He puts his curry in
the
microwave and switches it on.
LISTER: What I'm telling you, Rimmer,
is that being human sometimes isn't
all it's cracked up to be, and if KRYTEN thinks it's going to solve
all
his problems then he is in
for a major, I repeat, _major_
disappointment. He stalks
out. RIMMER and CAT turn back to
the
microscope. RIMMER peers again at the piece of dandruff
upon which his
future quality of
life depends, while CAT...
CAT: Achoo!
Their eyes meet. CAT grins sheepishly. RIMMER appears to be wishing for
a
holo-whip.
17 The cleaning supplies cupboard.
This is
where KRYTEN made his home. A recharge plug
lies coiled on the
floor. On a
shelf at the back of the cupboard are KRYTEN's three spare
heads. Various other spare parts are lying amongst
the drums and boxes
in the room.
KRYTEN enters, He is now dressed in human clothes -- a pink
shirt
with flower patterns, a black tie with large wite spots, a black
smoking
jacket with a fake leopard-fur collar, tan slacks, and brown
shoes. There is a pair of sunglasses in the
jacket's outer pocket. He
possibly
let CAT help him with the selections, although it is more likely
he chose
them himself -- they give him an air of indifferent
eccentricity, rather
like Doctor Who. He addresses his spare
parts.
KRYTEN: The most wondeful thing has happened! We found this machine and
it's made me human!
SPARE HEAD 1:
You're a human now?
KRYTEN: That's right, Spare Head 1. Our wildest, most incredible dream
has come true!
SPARE HEAD 2: What's it
like?
KRYTEN: It's indescribable, Spare Head 2. True, I'm having a few
problems coping with the human emotions, and there's no zoom, the
nipples don't work and I could show you a
snapshot of something that
would
make your eyes spin like fruit machines!
But that apart, it's
all
going well.
SPARE HEAD 1: What about us?
It was my turn to be main head next month!
KRYTEN: Well, obviously
that's no longer possible. Aren't you
happy for
me? I'm not a mechanoid. I'm not second class anymore!
SPARE
HEAD 2: What about Spare Head 3? You
can't just leave him here,
he's
got droid rot!
SPARE HEAD 3 takes offence at this. He speaks with a Yorkshire accent,
so
broad you could cut it with the Pennines.
SPARE HEAD 3: I don't need
no bugger t'look after me! Ah may be
'alf
round with siliconisis, and
my voice units may be shot t'buggery, but
Ah don't need sympathy from the likes of 'IM!
KRYTEN: Well,
I'll still come and visit. I won't
forget you.
SPARE HEAD 1: Where have you been for the last four
days?
KRYTEN: Hey! I've been
busy!
SPARE HEAD 3: Aye, busy swankin' round with 'is new central
nervous
system, 'is poncy new
eight-valve heart, lah-de-dah-ing it with all 'is
fancy new 'UMAN friends!
KRYTEN: Oh,
Spare Head 3, what do you know about anything?
SPARE HEAD 3: Ooh, hark at
'im. Orderin' 'is own _heads_
around. Ah may
be thirty thousand years old and me circuit
boards may 'ave gone bandy,
but
I'll tell ye this for nowt: Ye came
int' this world as a
mechanoid,
and a mechanoid ye'll al'us be!
KRYTEN: I don't have to take this from
you. I'm a human. Shut you're
stupid flat head.
SPARE HEAD 1: (In shocked, hushed tones)
Kryten! I don't believe you
just said that.
KRYTEN: I don't even
know why I came here. What a waste of
time.
SPARE HEAD 2: I think you should leave now, Kryten. There's nothing more
to say.
SPARE HEAD 3: Aye, sling ye're
bloody 'ump. Go on, clear off!
KRYTEN:
And what about you, Spare Hand 1? How
do you feel?
The spare hand, recently taught rude gestures by
LISTER, employs one of
them now.
18 Int. Sleeping Quarters.
Day.
LISTER is sitting eating his curry. KRYTEN enters, disconsolate.
LISTER: Greetings, fellow
human.
KRYTEN: (Sighs) "Fellow human." How hollow those words
sound now.
LISTER: What's eating you, man?
LISTER offers KRYTEN
a taste of his curry. KRYTEN dips his
finger in and
licks it clean. He
doesn't seem to like the taste much.
KRYTEN: Oh, I can't get the
hang of these human emotions. One
moment I'm
happy, the next I'm
miserable. What's wrong with me? I'm up and down
more often than a pair of kangeroos in the
mating season.
LISTER: The depressions there for a reason. It's the mind's way of
telling you something's wrong.
KRYTEN:
Wrong!? What could be wrong? I've got
everything I want!
LISTER: Oh yeah?
KRYTEN: No. (Morosely) I've done
the most terrible thing. I've hurt
my
own kind, I've made fun of
those closest to me. I've been a
complete
and total
polaroid-head!
LISTER: Yeah.
You've had your head up your recharge socket.
KRYTEN: Agreed. And you've known all along.
LISTER:
Yeah, well. I did something similar
once. Sold out. (He
pauses, uncomfortable.)
KRYTEN: You sold out? (He crosses over and sits down beside
LISTER.)
LISTER: Hmm. Look, this
is between you and me, okay, Kryten?
KRYTEN: (Nods.)
LISTER: (LISTER
leans close.) Once, many years ago...
LISTER pauses, about to
deliver his terrible confession.
LISTER: I went into a wine
bar.
He quickly turns back to his curry, embarrassed and
ashamed. KRYTEN sits
back,
confused.
KRYTEN: That's it?
(Loudly) You went into a wine bar?
LISTER: Okay! Keep it down! keep it down! I don't
want the whole world
to
know!
KRYTEN: Well, what's so bad about going into a... (He pauses,
seeing
LISTER's expression)
W.B.?
LISTER: It means I was a class traitor. I could have been on that
slippery slope: hankering after
pine kitchens, sleeping on futons,
eating tappas! Who knows where
it could have lead? I could have
started having "relationships"
with people instead of going out with
them. Got married, got on the
property ladder. God Almighty,
who
knows where it could have
ended? Next thing you know, I'm
playing
squash every Tuesday
night with a bloke called Gerald! (He
shakes his
head ruefully.) A
lucky escape, man, a lucky escape.
KRYTEN: I've been thinking, sir: I want to be a mechanoid again. It's
what I always have been, what I always will be.
LISTER: And no bad
thing. Let's do it.
They
stand up to go.
LISTER: Kryten, there was a cartoon character once
called Popeye, said a
really
profound thing.
KRYTEN: Well, what did he say?
LISTER: He said,
"I am what I am."
KRYTEN: Are you sure? I always thought it was Descartes!
LISTER:
So did I, man! It's so easy to get
those two dudes mixed up!
19 Model Shot.
The UFO clamped
to the Red Dwarf.
20 Int. Genetic-modifier Chamber.
The
crew of the Dwarf are gathered round, looking thoughtfully anxious.
HOLLY's
image is on the Genetic Modifier COMPUTER's monitor, overlaid on
the
pattern of geometric shapes. LISTER
speaks around a mouthful of
curry.
LISTER: What d'you reckon,
Hol?
HOLLY: I reckon I got it sussed.
RIMMER: I reckon we should try
it first.
CAT: What with?
HOLLY: Well, just nearly anything
organic.
LISTER notices the direction of RIMMER's gaze.
LISTER:
Hey! Don't look at me!
RIMMER: I'm
not looking at you, I'm looking at that foil container.
HOLLY: Lister's
curry?!?
RIMMER: It's dead. It's
organic. If we can change a mutton
vindaloo
into a chicken vindaloo,
we'll know it's safe for KRYTEN.
CAT: Nice idea, goal-post head! Let's try it!
LISTER: (Annoyed) Ta! I
was enjoying that!
He holds out the foil container and the purple
beam descends to enclose
it.
HOLLY: (In Modifier COMPUTER's
voice) Gene sample accepted and cloned.
Metamorphosis in progress.
The curry starts to move. Large bubbles form and burst on the surface
--
the container overruns, and curry gloops down the sides. In seconds, the
container is completely
hidden in the seething mass, which soon reaches
to the floor. The crew of the Dwarf watch, eyes wide with
horror.
LISTER: What the smeg is it?
RIMMER: What have we
created?
LISTER: We've created the mutton vindaloo beast. Half man, half extra-
hot Indian curry!
RIMMER: Okay. You go, I'll cover you.
OTHERS:
Seriously?
RIMMER: (In a small voice) No.
They run for their
lives, pursued by the monster.
21 The Corridors of the Red
Dwarf.
They reach a munitions cabinet.
RIMMER: I don't
believe I'm running away from a psychopathic curry man!
LISTER: Is it
still following us?
CAT: Can't you smell it? It's right behind us!
LISTER uses a convenient
six-pack of wicked-strength Leopard lager to
break the glass on the
cabinet. They start breaking out the
bazookoids.
LISTER: Remember last Easter, twelve months ago to the
day, the
Polymorph?
KRYTEN:
That's right. You were attacked by a
killer shami kebab!
LISTER: How can the same smeg happen to the same guy
twice?
CAT: Last time it was hors d'euvres, this time it's lunch!
He
chambers a round in his bazookoid, and ducks around the corner to face
the
monster.
CAT: Eat burning death, and kiss your ugly ass goodbye,
beast!
LISTER: Twice!
The beast doesn't even slow down. LISTER watches it approach, horrified.
The
others, less philosophically inclined, run for it.
LISTER: Move back
to the <...>! The DNA
splitter! I've got an idea!
He
runs after the others. The monster
pursues. We see from it's vantage
point
as LISTER ducks through a blast door and palms the emergency
controls. The door slides down. LISTER sticks his finger at the
monster
through the reinforced glass window, then frys the door controls
with the
bazookoid.
22 The Genetic-modifier Chamber.
LISTER:
Holly, I'm only going to ask you this the once, and I want the
truth:
can you make this machine work without any mistakes?
HOLLY:
Yeah. I know what I did wrong last
time. It's a mistake any
deranged, half-witted computer could've
made. Look, I can do it. Give
me a chance.
LISTER: Look, Holly, that computer's virtually
indestructible. There's
only one way to beat it. (He sighs, then shrugs, resigned.) Turn
me
into a super-human. Man plus.
RIMMER: Are you totally
insane? You're going to let that
fruit-bat of a
computer diddle
with your DNA?
LISTER: You got a better plan?
RIMMER: Maybe some
Indian resteraunt music will mollify it.
Or perhaps
we can make a
surrender flag out of flock wallpaper?
CAT: Do you realise the charmed
thing is going to be through that door
any minute now?
LISTER: Right.
So let's do it.
HOLLY: Transmogrification sequence initiated.
23
Int. Some anonymous corridors.
The monster is already through the
door, and in hot pursuit.
24 The Genetic-modifier Chamber.
HOLLY:
Metamorphosis complete.
LISTER is now half-encased in metal and
gleaming plastic: his
deerstalker
is is half-melded into a metal helmet that covers most of his
head,
leaving a slot for his eyes. His
jacket, similarly, melds with the
metal armour covering most of his
body. He looks suspiciuosly like
Robocop.
LISTER:
(In a high-pitched, squeaky voice) Did it work?
CAT: Kind of.
LISTER:
What d'you mean, "kind of?"
The other are looking at him
-- looking down. LISTER may look
like
Robocop, but he would have to stand on tiptoe to see over that
worthy's
feet, since he has been shrunk down to a height of ten inches,
bazookoid
and all.
CAT: I mean, "kind of."
HOLLY:
Well, getting better.
RIMMER: What now?
CAT: We ain't got time to
change him back. Let's scoot! (To LISTER)
Come on, stumpy!
LISTER: Wait for me!
He sprints
after the others, legs pumping.
25 A corridor on the Dwarf.
RIMMER,
CAT, and KRYTEN pound past the now-empty munitions cabinet.
After a few
seconds, LISTER rounds the corner and stops, exhausted.
LISTER: I
can't keep up, I'm knackered!
The others appear from the direction
they were running in originally,
rather distressed expressions on their
faces. They duck down a side
corridor. The monster arrives, and faces LISTER. LISTER backs off. As
he does so, he knocks over an open can of lager. The monster steps in
the spilt liquid,
there is a hissing sound, and the monster draws back
its foot with a roar
of pain.
LISTER: Of course.
Lager! The only thing that can
kill a vindaloo!
He picks up a full lager can. With superhuman (for his height)
strength
he tosses the lager can at the monster. The can wedges between it's
mandibles. LISTER than takes aim and fires! The blast from his
bazookoid strikes
the can, and it explodes. So does the
monster. Curry
flies everywhere,
covering everything in sight. LISTER is
knocked to the
ground by a particuarly large gob. Shen the dust has finally settled,
the
others approach LISTER, lying dazed and covered in curry. He grins
up at them cheerfully.
LISTER:
Has anyone got a poppadom the size of Lake Michigan? This
stuff's really
good!
So saying, he scoops up some of the curry covering him and
shovels it
into his mouth.
CAT: This guy is pure class.