So, Kryten, you’ve heard of this Inquisitor?
Only as a myth, a dark fable, a horror tale, told across the flickering embers of a midnight fire wherever hardened space dogs gather to drink fermented vegetable products and compete in tales of blood-chilling terror.
A simple “Yes” would have sufficed.
– So who is he?
– Yeah, what’s his beef?
Well, the legend tells of a droid, a self-repairing simulant, who survives till the end of eternity, to the end of time itself. After millions of years alone, he finally reaches the conclusion that there is no God, no afterlife, and the only purpose of existence is to lead a worthwhile life.
And so the droid constructs a time machine and roams eternity, visiting every single soul in history and assessing each one. He erases all those who wasted their lives and replaces them with those that never had a chance of life, the unfertilised eggs, the sperms that never made it. That is the Inquisitor. He prunes away the wastrels, expunges the wretched and deletes the worthless.
– We’re in big trouble.
Man, who’s to say what’s worthless?
Oh, please! Take a look in the mirror.
Read your entry in “Who’s Nobody”.
No, I mean it. Who’s to judge? Who’s to say what’s worthwhile?