Work Text:
Rimmer couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes and tried to silence the churning chatter of his thoughts, one thing would be left to echo.
“Mr. Gazpacho!”
How could he have said that to himself…no, wait, how could himself have said that to him? He was the original, the other Rimmer could be saddled with ‘himself’, thank you very much millado.
This was making his head hurt.
‘Know thyself’ was all very well but surely even Socrates would struggle to see them as the same person? Rimmer didn’t hate himself…he just hated the new him, which was totally different.