All language subtitles for Red.Dwarf.-.S05E06 - Back To Reality [MrM].ENG

Sir, we've located
the black box. You should get something now.

Confirmed. Ident details -
SSS Esperanto. Ocean seeding ship.

Mission to introduce oceanic life
to potential S-3 planets.

This was a recon trip.
A three-year check, strictly routine,

to make sure the amino acids had taken.

They'd been trying some new
technique to accelerate evolution.

Topped even their best projections.

They got five million years of evolution
in three solar years.

So what happened?

Final entry - routine stuff. They spent the day
cataloguing and indexing new life forms.

- Then it stops.
- The question which occurs:

all these new life forms, where are they all?

- What are you implying?
- No implication, sir.

Yes, there is. You're saying
there's some huge damn fish?

Some kind of gigantic pre-historic leviathan
who's porked its way through the ocean.

- That's one option.
- Any alternatives?

- None that occur.
- Hey, wait a minute. I've got it.

- Don't fish swim south for the winter?
- No, that's birds, sir.

Birds swim south for the winter?
How do they breathe?

Guys.

Rimmer, you getting this?

It looks like Norman Bates's mum.

Human, male, Caucasian.

Cause of death - gunshot wound to the head.
From the wounds, most likely self-inflicted.

Here's another one!

- Two suicides?
- There's more!

Oh, male. Oriental.
Clearly, he committed seppuku.

Hey! Look what I found.

Species - unknown. Similar to Earth haddock.

Cause of death - suffocation. What?

- What is it?
- This fish suffocated in water.

It voluntarily closed its own gills.

Are you saying
this haddock committed suicide?

I'm merely stating the known facts.

This fish relinquished its life
of its own free will. Damn fool!

Why would a haddock kill itself?

Why am I even asking that question?

Hang five, guys. I'm getting something.

He committed suicide, he committed suicide,

he committed suicide
and the fish committed suicide.

There's some kind of link here.

Hang on a minute, guys. Check this.

It's an unknown compound.

Best guess is some sort of hallucinogenic
venom secreted by a piscine source,

not unlike the Earth octopus or giant squid.

- This is octopus ink?
- I'm just completing a chemical analysis.

- Oh. Er...
- What?

- Come on!
- What's happening?

- We have to go!
- Kryten, what's going on?

- Entering air lock.
- Repressurising now.

Some kind of sea creature, a life form
never encountered before, attacked this ship.

Its defence mechanism is curious.
It secretes a venom, a poison,

possibly even a hallucinogenic, which
disfunctions its prey by inducing despair.

That's why the crew members
and that fish committed suicide.

Unfortunately, we have been contaminated.

It's a greatly reduced dose
but we may experience moments...

.. of despair and anguish.

What about Lister and the Cat?

I'm OK. I don't seem to be affected.

I don't think anyone's loved me
in my entire life,

but there's nothing new about that.

What's gotten into you?
It's like Saturday night at the Wailing Wall.

Why is it always me that has to be strong?

You guys just fall apart.

We should get back and take a mood stabiliser.
I suggest lithium carbonate.

I know
this isn't what you want to hear right now

but there's a blob on the scope the size
of New Mexico and it's heading your way.

I think the Suicide Squid
is about to make an appearance.

- Where is it precisely?
- Right above you, 2,000 fathoms and diving.

Oh, thanks, Rimmer.
You know the state we're in!

- You couldn't have lied?
- I was lying. It's only 1,000 fathoms.

We're entering Starbug's airlock now.

What's it doing?

It's trying to work out
what we are. Cut the power.

This venom, are we safe in here?

It penetrated the hull
of a class D seeding ship.

In comparison, we're a sardine tin.

- It's moving.
- Where?

- Down.
- Speed?

- 15 knots... 16... 18...
- It's diving.

- Course?
- Collision.

- Do we move or stay?
- 25 knots... 35... 50...

- It's coming straight for us.
- It thinks we're a threat, food or a mate.

It's gonna kill us, eat us or hump us.

We either persuade him that we're not
that kind of vessel or scarper pronto.

Diddled by a giant squid on a first date?

OK, we're going to try and outrun it.
Holly, give me manual.

Change bearing, one zero five.
There's some natural caverns.

- It might give us some cover.
- That's a yo, Holly. New course set.

- It's hit us!
- Look out!

You have been engaged
in the Total Immersion Video Game Red Dwarf.

As with all role-playing adventures,

you will experience a certain amount
of disorientation on leaving the game.

It will be several minutes
before your real-life memories return.

In the meantime, please disengage
the game-playing machinery and relax

until an attendant is free
to answer your questions.

On behalf of Leisure World International,
may we say welcome back to reality.

This is a very, very bad dream, right?

- I'm not a hologram.
- I'm half human.

What the hell's happened to my teeth?!

I can open beer bottles with my overbite.

All right. How you feeling?

Bit wonky? Perfectly normal.
You'll be as right as rain in 20 minutes.

If you'd move into the recuperation lounge,
I'll get things ready for the next lot.

- Next lot?
- Yeah, very popular, Red Dwarf.

It's got a two-year waiting list
on 20 machines.

- So, how'd you get killed, then?
- Some kind of squid.

The Despair Squid?
That shouldn't have killed you.

Why didn't you use the laser cannons?

Starbug doesn't - didn't -
have laser cannon capability.

You twonk! You use the laser cannons
on the crashed wotsit... Esperanto.

- That's how you get out of it.
- How could we know, you Brummie git?

Esperanto. That's a clue, isn't it?

Esperanto - hope.
Hope defeats despair, the Despair Squid.

It's a blatant clue, isn't it? Blatant.

You must have been playing like puddings!

Which one was playing Lister, then?

- Me.
- Did you get Kochanski?

Was I supposed to?

Supposed to? That's the objective
of the game for Lister, you twonk.

You get separated to begin with. It's a love
story across time, space, death and reality.

You must have got the easy stuff.
What about the planet of the nymphomaniacs?

- The planet of the what?!
- You missed that? Oh! That's a riot.

Some people spend years on that.

Which one was Rimmer?

- Me.
- Oh, he's amazing, ain't he?

- You can say that again.
- You sussed him out?

- I had him sussed right from the beginning.
- Really?

You found the captain's message right away?

- What captain's message?
- Hidden in the microdot

in Rimmer's swimming certificate.

That's the clue - having a swimming
certificate when he can't swim.

- That's a clue?
- It's a blatant clue, isn't it?!

- A blatant clue to what?
- To the truth behind Rimmer.

- What truth?
- Why he's such an insufferable prat.

That's because of his parents,
his upbringing, his background.

- No, no, no.
- Yes, yes, yes.

- No, no, no.
- Yes, yes, yes.

No!

- What was it, then?
- He was a special agent for the Space Corps.

He had his memory erased
and was programmed to be a twonk.

He was on a secret mission to guide Lister
to create the second universe.

- You what?!
- Yeah.

You know when Lister jump-starts the second
big bang with jump leads from Starbug?

Jump starts the second big bang?!

That's the final irony. Lister, the ultimate
atheist, turns out, in fact, to be God.

- What?!
- It's all in the Captain's microdot.

Hang on a minute. Are you...?

Are you seriously telling me you were playing
the prat version of Rimmer for four years?

Oh-ho! That's a classic, that is.
That's a classic.

All right, lads. Which one's Lister?

Right. Got your food bag, bio-feedback,
catheter... It's all there.

You can start plugging yourself in.

Here, don't confuse
the food pipe with the catheter.

Some bloke did, we didn't spot it
for two days. OK, Kryten. In you go, son.

OK, Cat, Rimmer...
Give us some room here, chaps?

Well, where do we go?
Our memories haven't returned yet.

The re-cup-er-a-tion lounge.
I keep telling you!

Blimey!
No wonder you only scored four per cent.

Cor! What a bunch of twonks.

I'm not Lister, then. I'm not me, am I?

None of us are who we thought we were, sir.

- I'm not Rimmer, then?
- No.

I'm not a hologram. I'm not Rimmer.

Well, who the hell are we?

The kind of sad acts who spend
four years playing a computer game.

Either we're running from God knows what
or have nothing worth living for.

- Is there a Duane Dibbley here?
- Pardon?

- Duane Dibbley?
- No, sorry.

How do you know there's no one
called Duane Dibbley here? It could be you.

No, this is right. This is the Dibbley party.
Which one's Duane Dibbley?

No. No, no, please, no!
I don't want to be Duane Dibbley.

It's you. Here are your party's possessions.
The medical officer will be down soon.

Duane Dibbley? How can I be Duane Dibbley?

It's true. It's got your photograph,
name, address on it and everything.

There's an anorak in here!

White socks... nylon shirt...

plastic sandals... Aertex vest...

cardigan... oh, and a key
to the Salvation Army hostel.

It doesn't make sense.

I'm sorry, but I'm afraid
it makes perfect sense...

Duane!

Imagine a guy
with no elan, no style - a misfit.

Wouldn't this hapless creature give his buck
teeth to play the Cat in a computer game?

So this is really me?

A no-style gimbo with teeth the druids
could use as a place of worship?!

Kryten, open the next one.

Listen, whoever you are,

don't push your luck
by ordering whoever I am around.

Almost certainly, I'm not the kind of guy
who'd take any crap from whoever you are.

So before you start ordering me around,
let's establish if I'm a guy who doesn't mind it,

or if I get all uptight being ordered around
by whatever kind of guy you are. Clear?

All I said was, "Open the next one. "

- All right, this one's you.
- Oh. Who am I?

Wow! You're a detective

in the cybernautic division
of the police department.

Oh... ha... Golly. Really?

- Yeah. This is your badge.
- A detective? What's my name?

Jake. Jake Bullet.

Jake Bullet, cybernautic detective. I like that.

That sounds
like the kind of hard-living flatfoot

who gets the job done by bucking authority.

And if those pen-pushers
at City Hall don't like it,

they can park their overpaid fat asses
on this mid-digit

and swivel till they squeal
like pigs on a honeymoon!

On the other hand, Mr Bullet, perhaps
the cybernautics division is traffic control,

and you just have a rather silly macho name.

Oh, yes. That's a good point.
I didn't think of that.

Duane Dibbley?

So, whoever you are, who's next?

- I don't want to know. Someone else look.
- Stand aside. Let the law handle this.

Hmm... No photograph. Name - Billy Doyle.

Not necessarily. It's not necessarily me.

Billy Doyle. That's a name
from the wrong side of the tracks.

You can see it all now -
a youth spent in corrective institutions,

a string of illegitimate children,

the wife will be all white shoes,
no tights and blotchy legs,

takes up petty crime to cover
court orders for maintenance.

Before he knows it,
he's in a bank with a shotgun.

Somehow it goes off. An old lady gets both
barrels through a crocheted bobble hat.

All he can do is hide.
But where? Then it hits him.

His ill-gotten gains can buy four years
in a computer game till the heat's off.

So ends the ballad
of Billy "Granny Killer" Doyle.

It's yours.

- What?
- It's yours... Bill.

- No.
- Check the ugly mug on the ID, then, man.

"William Doyle".

William Doyle. Good ol' Bill Doyle.

That sounds like a hell of a good name.

Probably connected with the Boston Doyles.
Old money, blue-chip stock.

It's all coming back to me now.

What puzzles me
is why a man of such good breeding

would be wearing a coat that smells like an
elderly yak has taken a leak in both pockets.

- Well, isn't it obvious?
- No, it isn't.

Oh, my God. My name is Billy Doyle
and my cologne is Eau de Yak Urine.

So who am I, then?

Wow! Look at my gear!

This stuff's really, really expensive.

Are you sure this isn't my box?

- Who are you? What do you do?
- I work for some company - CGI.

I've got a limo in the long-term car park.

Clearly, you were privy to all the breaks
that life denied William Doyle.

Sir, I think you should take a look at this.
William, meet your brother Sebastian.

Well, half-brothers. Uterinal - same mother.

This is a crazy idea. We can't leave now.
Our memories haven't returned yet.

We've got to find out more. I can't be
his alky, yak-coat-wearing half-brother.

Duane Dibbley?!

Are you crazy, Lister? Are you totally nuts?

You risk everybody's neck
just to save my life?

- Do that again and I'll kill you.
- Hey, Kochanski.

Shut up.

"Vote Fascist for a third glorious decade
of total law enforcement"?!

"Be a government informer.
Betray your family and friends"?

"Fabulous prizes to be won"?!

Here it is.

- This is your car?
- Bay 47.

Halt or I'll fire! Move, voters!

Move one inch and I'll crush
every bone in your body.

You helped an enemy of democracy escape.

She was stealing an apple of the people.

- Bullet, cybernautics.
- That's traffic control.

Kneel, voters.

You are under sentence of death.

Come out of the shadows, voter.

What's the beef?
Did she steal your lunch box?

M- Many apologies, Voter Colonel.
Had I known it was you...

- Forgive me.
- You know me?

Of course, Voter Colonel.

- Who am I?
- You are Colonel Sebastian Doyle.

Section chief of CGI.
Head of the Ministry of Alteration.

Remind me a little. What exactly do we do
at the Ministry of Alteration?

You... change people, Voter Colonel.

- In what way?
- You change them from being alive people

to being dead people, to purify democracy.

- Purify?
- No one has done more

to purge the ballot boxes than the Voter Colonel.

- So why has he been away for four years?
- Voter Colonel, is this some sort of test?

Answer him.

The rumour was that you had grown weary
of your glorious duties

and had gone away,
in secret, to renew yourself.

Halt!

I killed him.

Lets get out of here! In the car!

- Get in the car!
- I killed him!

We haven't got time for that!

- I killed a human!
- In the car!

Look out! Fascist cops! They're armed.

You're hit!

Hello. For the 3,000th time,
you're hallucinating. Can anyone hear me?

Uh-oh! Speed bumps!

Chicane!

Look out. The barrier.

Brace yourselves! We're going through it!

Motorcycles.
They're carrying personal rocket launchers.

- That bridge, think we can make it?
- It's raising!

- Got any better ideas?
- Just do it!

Whooooa!

We made it! Nice driving! So long, suckers!

Uh-oh! Helicopters.

Oh, I'm going to have to dump the limo!

OK! Come on! Go! Go! Go!

Down that alley!

I killed him. I killed a human.

Damn.

- What are you doing?!
- It is fundamental that I never take a life.

I could have stunned him.
I must terminate myself.

This is a nightmare. I'm on the run
with a murderer, a mass murderer

and a man in a bri-nylon shirt.

I'm a human-wreckage sputum-bag
who smells like a yak latrine.

Now I'm about to be splattered with an
android's brain. I'm after you with the gun.

- Yeah, count me in too.
- Ditto.

But there's only one bullet left.

We could put our heads together
and the bullet could go down the line.

Kryten, I'm using a higher frequency.
Can you hear me now?

- Did somebody say something?
- You're hallucinating. Put the gun down.

I think I'm going to put the gun down.

- Walk forward three paces.
- I'm going to walk forward three paces.

- Well, he's cracking up.
- I'm going to pick up this fire extinguisher

and twist the release wheel.

Have you quite finished being strange?

I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me.

- OK?
- OK.

You're hallucinating.

You're hallucinating.

- What?
- You almost didn't make it.

- Welcome back.
- What happened?

You had a group hallucination,
brought on by the Despair Squid.

You were about to commit suicide
until the mood-stabiliser saved you.

- The lithium carbonate.
- We really would have killed ourselves?

Of course. The hallucinations
were designed to induce despair.

To attack the very things we each consider
quintessential to our self-esteem.

Take Mr Rimmer. He could no longer blame
his failings on his parents,

because he shared an upbringing with you,
his richer, more important half-brother.

Cat lost his cool,
and life no longer had any meaning

because he is so mind-meltingly shallow.

Right. Superficial is my middle name.

And you have always prided yourself
on being a man of moral courage.

So, when you thought you were a mass-murderer
in a totalitarian state, despair.

Despair destined to drive you over the edge.

- And with you it was taking a human life.
- Precisely.

- I'm not Duane Dibbley?
- No.

I AM Rimmer?

I'm afraid so.

- What happened to the Despair Squid?
- I took care of that. Limpet mines.

The fried calamari out there could feed Italy.

- Let's get out of here.
- Flight coordinates programmed.

Switching to pilot cooperation
until we surface.

Those planet engineers really screwed up
in a big way here, didn't they? Playing God.

The evolutionary process threw up a life form
more deadly than any other species.

Damn near wiped out everything on the planet.

Spreading despair and destruction
wherever it stuck its ugly mush.

Hmm, sounds rather reminiscent of a species
sitting not a million miles away from me now.

You probably have to be a mechanoid
to appreciate that one.

Kryten, no one likes a smart alec android.

Hit the retros.

We're on our way, sir.

# It's cold outside,
there's no kind of atmosphere

# I'm all alone, more or less

# Let me fly far away from here

# Fun, fun, fun

# In the sun, sun, sun

# I want to lie, shipwrecked and comatose

# Drinking fresh mango juice

# Goldfish shoals, nibbling at my toes

# Fun, fun, fun

# In the sun, sun, sun

# Fun, fun, fun

# In the sun, sun, sun #