Fic: Dear John - R/L (imp) - PG - Part 5/?
Jul. 9th, 2010 12:21 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kahvi.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
reddwarfslashTitle: Dear John
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), other
Rating: PG, for this part
Disclaimer: I don't even own the fictional series IX and X of Red Dwarf. I make no money from this fannish venture.
Notes: This is part 5/? - part 1 is here, part 2 is here, part 3 is here and part 4 is here. Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smaych, who is both an Arnold and a John. <3
Much thanks go to the amazingroadstergal for the biology picking in this installment!
Rimmer had gone numb. He could hear John droning on, but it was like he was talking to some other person, in another room.
“That was their way of coping, you see? We each had our own way of dealing with mum and dad and how they wanted us to be. Howard rebelled. Completely. Frank conformed. Me? I cut all ties, told them I was dead. I figured it was the only way I could stay sane. I tried to become my own person.”
Rimmer swallowed. “This is all such smeg.”
John quirked a smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And you… I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Did…” he looked almost embarrassed. “Did you die like Frank? Heart attack? I always figured it was the pressure, you know, having to live that horrible, stilted life, always worrying about appearances. But at least he had mum and dad’s approval. You…”
“I’m pathetic, is that it?”
John shook his head. “You’re not getting it.”
“What is there to get? We’re clones. Whatever. I don’t see what this has to do with lapsed morals and perverse behavior!”
“Dad took me aside one evening when I was fifteen and told me all about it.”
“Told you how to bugger around?”
John ignored him. “Gave me a drink even; whiskey, I think it was. Foul stuff. He said he’d told Frank and Howard about it the same way when they’d turned fifteen. He didn’t tell me everything, of course; I had to piece some of it together after I left home. But the gist of it was… you know how dad always wanted to get into the Space Corps?”
“Of course; it’s all he ever talked about!”
“Well, he didn’t want to take any chances. He and mum went to a geneering place and asked them to use their DNA to make a template for a perfect child; a boy the Space Corps would beg to recruit.”
“What,” Rimmer snorted, “and that’s us, is it? That’s me?”
“Yes and no.” John frowned. “Dad went a bit over-the-top; he wanted a child with no negative traits whatsoever, just positive ones. Or what he perceived to be positive, anyway. High metabolism, good stamina, tall, athletic, good endurance, high IQ, good eyesight, excellent hearing. No genetic disorders, no allergies, no physical weaknesses.”
“So?” It sounded wonderful. Obviously it hadn’t worked, but Rimmer would have loved to have been like that. Strong. Intelligent. Perfect.
“So, there were two problems with that. One, genes aren’t everything; a lot depends on conditions in the womb. The odds would have been better with external gestation – you know, an artificial womb – but mum and Dad couldn’t afford that. Without that, there would be no way to control the state of the egg, what proteins and RNA were present, phosphorylation states, yadda yadda…”
Rimmer stared at him blankly.
“Anyway, dad wanted a guarantee, and they couldn’t give it to him. Naturally, he didn’t want to hear it.”
“Of course; I’m sure it had to be expensive. He should expect to get his money’s worth!”
John gave him an odd sort of look, then went on. “The other problem was that getting the smorgasbord of traits he and mum wanted would be virtually impossible. Mum and dad kept insisting that only their DNA be used, which meant the geneers would have to use targeted mutation. Because the engineered genes could have unexpected interactions with other genes; with all those desired traits, the end result was guaranteed to be messed up at best, and highly mentally unstable at worst.”
Rimmer’s face twitched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Well, that’s what dad said too, and when the geneers refused to do the job, he just went somewhere else with the same demands. Eventually, he found a place that was dodgy enough to set it up.” John quirked a smile. “He showed me the list, you know. It was five pages, neatly typed. The amount of potential in us is insane; in theory, we should all be some sort of swashbuckling space hero.”
“Hah. Um. Yes,” Rimmer said, his gut sinking. Things were starting to make sense. He didn’t want them to. He desperately didn’t want them to. Quickly, he reached out for a conversational life buoy. “Why four, though?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why did they have four of us? Frank came out perfect, didn’t he?” It hurt to say it, but it was nonetheless true; Rimmer had grown up hearing nothing else.
John shrugged. “They got three extra embryos free. I think it was a promotional thing. Mother didn’t want to waste them.”
“Oh.”
“Of course, we also came with a list of mental problems as long as your arm. And we were prone to same-sex attraction.”
“You keep saying that,” Rimmer barked, taking a step backwards and pointing his finger accusingly. “Frank was never gay! He married a woman; I saw the pictures mummy let me buy.”
John nodded. “And I think he loved her. I dated a few women myself. It’s not a black and white thing, though you couldn’t tell that to dad, of course. When he found out about Howard… well, I think that’s when he decided not to tell you.”
Rimmer stiffened. “Why are you telling me all this? What am I supposed to do? We’re both dead, and so’s the rest of humanity. So’s mummy and daddy! So you had a lovely time pretending to have died and fornicating with whomever you liked. So what? Am I supposed to thank you for telling me that my whole life has been based on a lie?” He stopped, abruptly. Had he really said that? Was it true? Was that how he really felt? His legs were shaky. He felt an acute need to sit down, but there were no chairs.
“Arnie…” John began, quietly, leaning towards him.
Then the lights went out.
“The power’s out!” Lister grabbed his jacket, rushing towards the door. It wouldn’t open with the electrics shot, but there was probably an override.
“No, sir; just the lights. The artificial gravity is on, and the air is still circulating. What Mr. Cat did must not have shut the generator down completely, but it’s clearly not at full capacity. Because the backup generator is gone, the system is powering down non-essential functions.”
Lister pursed his lips. OK. He pressed the Door Open button experimentally, and the doors slid open. “All right. Let’s find Rimmer and get out of here.”
Cat sped ahead of them in the corridor, probably heading straight for the ‘bug. Lister hurried on behind, trying to think. “We should be fine,” Kryten replied to his unasked question, “the power saving sets in automatically. So long as there isn’t any kind of surge in the grid, the power should hold.”
“A surge? You mean like when Cat plugs his industrial strength hairdryer in when we're running the microwave, and that fries the navicomp?"
"Somewhat like that, sir. No need to worry though; shutting down even a malfunctioning generator of this size would require a truly massive surge, such as the one that destroyed the backup generator."
Lister was beginning to feel ill at ease. "So what destroyed the backup generator?"
They turned a corner, heading towards the huge sliding doors dividing the residential area from the office spaces. "As I mentioned earlier, sir, it was damaged beyond repair during one of the hard light hologram tests. Keeping a light bee with just soft-light projection capabilities running requires an extraordinary amount of power. Thankfully, Mr Rimmer's bee contains an auxiliary battery; Starbug alone could never have handled his projection." The doors hissed open, revealing the by now familiar maze of cubicles, looking even more identical in the dark.
"And a hard light bee would need even more power, yeah?"
"Mr. Rimmer's bee requires less power than a traditional hologram projector, but it was upgraded by a genius. A prototype, such as the one under development here, would certainly require..." Kryten stopped, turning to Lister in alarm. "Oh sir; you don't think..."
Lister set his jaw. "I think we need to find John Rimmer's lab."
"The power's out!" Rimmer jumped back in alarm, instinctively searching for the nearest exit.
"Don't worry; it's just the lights. Ever since the backup generator fried, they've turned the lights off in the labs and offices at night. It's just an automated power saving feature."
Rimmer hesitated. He had a highly developed instinct for danger, and it wasn't fully satisfied with this explanation. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Of course I’m sure; I’ve worked here for more than two years!” The faint glow of John’s projection – and, Rimmer realized, his own – was the only light source in the room. Rimmer didn’t quite know why, but it suddenly made him feel acutely alone. “Listen,” John said, taking a few steps towards him, “if it worries you, you could always turn me off.”
“No!” Rimmer yelled, surprising himself.
John started at the unexpected outburst. “You’re going to have to eventually, you know. I’m amazed I’ve lasted this long; our best trial only managed twenty eight seconds before melting into a gooey puddle. It’s OK,” he added, seeing the horror on Rimmer’s face, “it wouldn’t be permanent. Just take my disc out and bring it with you. You must have come here on a ship – if as much time as you say has gone by, I’m sure you have the technology to power a couple of holograms.”
It wasn’t exactly a question, but Rimmer’s silence more than answered it.
“Ah. Well, in that case I suppose it would be rather permanent.”
“I don’t want you to die again,” Rimmer whined, biting down on his tongue immediately to keep from sprouting any more twonking nonsense.
John was grinning. Actually grinning. "Don't worry, Arnie boy. Holograms can't really die. We're already dead."
That, at least, had to be true. Everything inside Rimmer felt dead. "You're a scientist; can't you think of something? Can't you fix this?"
The room grew terribly, terribly quiet as John mulled this over. "OK," he said finally. "There is one thing we can try."
Pairing: Rimmer/Lister (implied), other
Rating: PG, for this part
Disclaimer: I don't even own the fictional series IX and X of Red Dwarf. I make no money from this fannish venture.
Notes: This is part 5/? - part 1 is here, part 2 is here, part 3 is here and part 4 is here. Dedicated to
smaych, who is both an Arnold and a John. <3 Much thanks go to the amazing
roadstergal for the biology picking in this installment! Rimmer had gone numb. He could hear John droning on, but it was like he was talking to some other person, in another room.
“That was their way of coping, you see? We each had our own way of dealing with mum and dad and how they wanted us to be. Howard rebelled. Completely. Frank conformed. Me? I cut all ties, told them I was dead. I figured it was the only way I could stay sane. I tried to become my own person.”
Rimmer swallowed. “This is all such smeg.”
John quirked a smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And you… I can’t imagine what it must have been like. Did…” he looked almost embarrassed. “Did you die like Frank? Heart attack? I always figured it was the pressure, you know, having to live that horrible, stilted life, always worrying about appearances. But at least he had mum and dad’s approval. You…”
“I’m pathetic, is that it?”
John shook his head. “You’re not getting it.”
“What is there to get? We’re clones. Whatever. I don’t see what this has to do with lapsed morals and perverse behavior!”
“Dad took me aside one evening when I was fifteen and told me all about it.”
“Told you how to bugger around?”
John ignored him. “Gave me a drink even; whiskey, I think it was. Foul stuff. He said he’d told Frank and Howard about it the same way when they’d turned fifteen. He didn’t tell me everything, of course; I had to piece some of it together after I left home. But the gist of it was… you know how dad always wanted to get into the Space Corps?”
“Of course; it’s all he ever talked about!”
“Well, he didn’t want to take any chances. He and mum went to a geneering place and asked them to use their DNA to make a template for a perfect child; a boy the Space Corps would beg to recruit.”
“What,” Rimmer snorted, “and that’s us, is it? That’s me?”
“Yes and no.” John frowned. “Dad went a bit over-the-top; he wanted a child with no negative traits whatsoever, just positive ones. Or what he perceived to be positive, anyway. High metabolism, good stamina, tall, athletic, good endurance, high IQ, good eyesight, excellent hearing. No genetic disorders, no allergies, no physical weaknesses.”
“So?” It sounded wonderful. Obviously it hadn’t worked, but Rimmer would have loved to have been like that. Strong. Intelligent. Perfect.
“So, there were two problems with that. One, genes aren’t everything; a lot depends on conditions in the womb. The odds would have been better with external gestation – you know, an artificial womb – but mum and Dad couldn’t afford that. Without that, there would be no way to control the state of the egg, what proteins and RNA were present, phosphorylation states, yadda yadda…”
Rimmer stared at him blankly.
“Anyway, dad wanted a guarantee, and they couldn’t give it to him. Naturally, he didn’t want to hear it.”
“Of course; I’m sure it had to be expensive. He should expect to get his money’s worth!”
John gave him an odd sort of look, then went on. “The other problem was that getting the smorgasbord of traits he and mum wanted would be virtually impossible. Mum and dad kept insisting that only their DNA be used, which meant the geneers would have to use targeted mutation. Because the engineered genes could have unexpected interactions with other genes; with all those desired traits, the end result was guaranteed to be messed up at best, and highly mentally unstable at worst.”
Rimmer’s face twitched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Well, that’s what dad said too, and when the geneers refused to do the job, he just went somewhere else with the same demands. Eventually, he found a place that was dodgy enough to set it up.” John quirked a smile. “He showed me the list, you know. It was five pages, neatly typed. The amount of potential in us is insane; in theory, we should all be some sort of swashbuckling space hero.”
“Hah. Um. Yes,” Rimmer said, his gut sinking. Things were starting to make sense. He didn’t want them to. He desperately didn’t want them to. Quickly, he reached out for a conversational life buoy. “Why four, though?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Why did they have four of us? Frank came out perfect, didn’t he?” It hurt to say it, but it was nonetheless true; Rimmer had grown up hearing nothing else.
John shrugged. “They got three extra embryos free. I think it was a promotional thing. Mother didn’t want to waste them.”
“Oh.”
“Of course, we also came with a list of mental problems as long as your arm. And we were prone to same-sex attraction.”
“You keep saying that,” Rimmer barked, taking a step backwards and pointing his finger accusingly. “Frank was never gay! He married a woman; I saw the pictures mummy let me buy.”
John nodded. “And I think he loved her. I dated a few women myself. It’s not a black and white thing, though you couldn’t tell that to dad, of course. When he found out about Howard… well, I think that’s when he decided not to tell you.”
Rimmer stiffened. “Why are you telling me all this? What am I supposed to do? We’re both dead, and so’s the rest of humanity. So’s mummy and daddy! So you had a lovely time pretending to have died and fornicating with whomever you liked. So what? Am I supposed to thank you for telling me that my whole life has been based on a lie?” He stopped, abruptly. Had he really said that? Was it true? Was that how he really felt? His legs were shaky. He felt an acute need to sit down, but there were no chairs.
“Arnie…” John began, quietly, leaning towards him.
Then the lights went out.
“The power’s out!” Lister grabbed his jacket, rushing towards the door. It wouldn’t open with the electrics shot, but there was probably an override.
“No, sir; just the lights. The artificial gravity is on, and the air is still circulating. What Mr. Cat did must not have shut the generator down completely, but it’s clearly not at full capacity. Because the backup generator is gone, the system is powering down non-essential functions.”
Lister pursed his lips. OK. He pressed the Door Open button experimentally, and the doors slid open. “All right. Let’s find Rimmer and get out of here.”
Cat sped ahead of them in the corridor, probably heading straight for the ‘bug. Lister hurried on behind, trying to think. “We should be fine,” Kryten replied to his unasked question, “the power saving sets in automatically. So long as there isn’t any kind of surge in the grid, the power should hold.”
“A surge? You mean like when Cat plugs his industrial strength hairdryer in when we're running the microwave, and that fries the navicomp?"
"Somewhat like that, sir. No need to worry though; shutting down even a malfunctioning generator of this size would require a truly massive surge, such as the one that destroyed the backup generator."
Lister was beginning to feel ill at ease. "So what destroyed the backup generator?"
They turned a corner, heading towards the huge sliding doors dividing the residential area from the office spaces. "As I mentioned earlier, sir, it was damaged beyond repair during one of the hard light hologram tests. Keeping a light bee with just soft-light projection capabilities running requires an extraordinary amount of power. Thankfully, Mr Rimmer's bee contains an auxiliary battery; Starbug alone could never have handled his projection." The doors hissed open, revealing the by now familiar maze of cubicles, looking even more identical in the dark.
"And a hard light bee would need even more power, yeah?"
"Mr. Rimmer's bee requires less power than a traditional hologram projector, but it was upgraded by a genius. A prototype, such as the one under development here, would certainly require..." Kryten stopped, turning to Lister in alarm. "Oh sir; you don't think..."
Lister set his jaw. "I think we need to find John Rimmer's lab."
"The power's out!" Rimmer jumped back in alarm, instinctively searching for the nearest exit.
"Don't worry; it's just the lights. Ever since the backup generator fried, they've turned the lights off in the labs and offices at night. It's just an automated power saving feature."
Rimmer hesitated. He had a highly developed instinct for danger, and it wasn't fully satisfied with this explanation. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Of course I’m sure; I’ve worked here for more than two years!” The faint glow of John’s projection – and, Rimmer realized, his own – was the only light source in the room. Rimmer didn’t quite know why, but it suddenly made him feel acutely alone. “Listen,” John said, taking a few steps towards him, “if it worries you, you could always turn me off.”
“No!” Rimmer yelled, surprising himself.
John started at the unexpected outburst. “You’re going to have to eventually, you know. I’m amazed I’ve lasted this long; our best trial only managed twenty eight seconds before melting into a gooey puddle. It’s OK,” he added, seeing the horror on Rimmer’s face, “it wouldn’t be permanent. Just take my disc out and bring it with you. You must have come here on a ship – if as much time as you say has gone by, I’m sure you have the technology to power a couple of holograms.”
It wasn’t exactly a question, but Rimmer’s silence more than answered it.
“Ah. Well, in that case I suppose it would be rather permanent.”
“I don’t want you to die again,” Rimmer whined, biting down on his tongue immediately to keep from sprouting any more twonking nonsense.
John was grinning. Actually grinning. "Don't worry, Arnie boy. Holograms can't really die. We're already dead."
That, at least, had to be true. Everything inside Rimmer felt dead. "You're a scientist; can't you think of something? Can't you fix this?"
The room grew terribly, terribly quiet as John mulled this over. "OK," he said finally. "There is one thing we can try."
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no subject
Date: 2010-07-08 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 03:27 am (UTC)And this made me point and laugh: "The amount of potential in us is insane; in theory, we should all be some sort of swashbuckling space hero.” - HAHAHAHAHA. Oh, Ace, you.
Still loving it!
no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 03:35 am (UTC)Hooray for acknowledgment of bisexuality! And I'm glad to see the brothers bonding, or starting to, in spite of all that misdirected loathing Rimmer has following him around.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 04:52 am (UTC)Hooked on this story.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 06:28 am (UTC)*Snickers* Fantastic. Yup. Still utterly in love with this fic.
no subject
Date: 2010-07-09 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-20 07:53 am (UTC)