The clothes fit. They didn't just fit, they slid on as though they had been tailored to him, which was probably the case, when Lister thought about it. So just maybe, that meant he wasn't Lister at all...

As they moved through the alleyways, he looked at the billboards, the armed guards stationed everywhere, and shuddered. He didn't like the idea of living here, but he did. And he was successful. What kind of person was successful in a world like this?

"But… but I'm not that sorta man," he mumbled. And Lister wasn't.

But he wasn't Lister.