Part 3

Joel's mind reeled as he attempted to process the information. The emotional part of his brain was screaming in protest, shouting, "No! I made the bots! Not this guy! What's going on?!" The logical part of his brain, however, pointed out, "This isn't your dimension, these aren't your creations." It made for a mental battle of incredible scope.

What made the situation even more surreal was that for all the man's thick build, his mannerisms and stance were almost entirely Joel's. He even had the same Gizmonics jumpsuit that Joel always wore back in his dimension. It was almost like looking into a mirror, only the face wasn't his. If Joel's mind were in any state to crack jokes, it would have noted the irony of skipping from one sci-fi cliche to another.

The man looked in Joel's direction, and for an odd moment Joel registered in his eyes something odd, almost... cold. Then hisgaze shifted, and once again the cheerful amiability surrounded his presence.

Joel wracked his brain for something to say to him, finally settling for a rather banal, "Oh, er, nice to meet you. How's it going?"

Mike shrugged. "Oh, it's pretty swell. As I was just telling the bots here, I manage a hot fish shop in Osseo, so I'm making a living, you know?"

Joel nodded, still somewhat numb. "Well gee, that's, um, nice. Say, how'd you get up here anyway?"

"Well, I won't go into the details or anything, but I will say it was pretty darned expensive. Cost me a ton to get up here," explained Mike.

"Huh. Well, I suppose it's not really important."

Mike thought for a moment, then said, "You know, we ARE looking for an overnight cook, if you're interested..."

"Wow, that's great! ...Wait, we're still stuck up here. Guess it's not gonna happen after all." Joel sighed. "I'm kind of a poor cook anyway." 'And it'd just be too WEIRD,' he added mentally.

"Ah man... Look, don't get too down about it. Things change, y'know, I mean... well, things change. Er, you know what I mean, right?" Mike tried to say.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Thanks anyway."

The two stood, looking awkward. Luckily, at that moment, Gypsy butted in. "Hey you kids! Keep it down!"

Mike grinned. "Hey Gypsy ol' girl!"

"Bite me!" She stormed off.

"Whoops. Guess I'd better start with Gypsy," said Mike, wincing. "We'll talk later, 'kay guys?"

"You bet, Mike!" replied Tom cheerfully. "See ya!"

"Bye Mike!" Crow piped in.

Mike nodded at the trio and took off to begin his work. Joel watched him go, still somewhat disoriented from the whole experience.

"Yay! Mike's back!" Crow cheered after Mike had left the bridge.

"Yeah," agreed Tom, who had been starstruck the entire time Mike had been present.

"Geez, the guy has everything..." muttered Joel.

"Ah, you shouldn't compare yourself, Joel, it's not healthy," Crow advised.

Joel smiled sadly at the golden bot. 'If only you knew what I meant...'


Mike, Joel could only assume, had been a regular flurry of activity while they were in the theater, for by the time the credits had rolled and the trio had made their way gratefully out of the theater, he had already finished repairing the entire satellite.

"So, uh, how'd it go?" asked Crow nervously.

"Pretty darned good, actually," replied Mike. "I'm kinda surprised, truth be told -- there was some pretty smart patching here and there, so it really made the whole thing easier. You work much with machines, Joel?"

"Who, him? He can barely program a VCR!" cackled Crow.

"Yeah, he must've got lucky, or something," added Tom.

Joel tried hard not to wince. Whether the bots realized it or not, those comments hurt.

"Oh. Hmm. Well, I've updated all the necessary systems. Hopefully, that should keep you guys going for another ten years, or twenty-million miles, or whatever comes first. I did kinda want to show you this fuel filter though, Joel." He lifted the item in question. "See all this gunk here?"

Joel looked at it. "Wow, I've really gotta clean that more often. It can't be good for perfomance."

Mike nodded. "Good thing I came before it affected anything, huh? Well, at any rate could you sign here please?" He held out a clipboard with a bill on it.

Joel shrugged and signed. "Guess I ought to think more about that, eh?" he commented casually.

"Well, that's the problem -- most people don't think about it," replied Mike, somewhat coldly.

Joel looked up in surprise. 'Where did THAT come from?' he thought. Before he had a chance to ask, however, the message light came on.

"Whoops, sorry, can we deal with this later? Do -- er, Pearl's calling," said Joel, berating himself for his slip.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice. "Yeah yeah, pay me now, pay me later," said Mike dismissively.

Joel nodded as he pushed the button.

Rather than the familiar (or in Joel's case, not-so-familiar) faces of Pearl and the others, the face which greeted them from the ground was TV's Frank. He was dressed in a robe not horribly different from that which the Soultakers had worn in the movie Joel and the bots had finished watching, and was looking towards Mike in surprise.

"Mike? Is that Mike Nelson?" asked Frank, surprised.

All the Satellite-bound folks save Joel looked shocked. "TV's Frank?!"

"Yeah? It's Frank. How about that," said Joel conversationally, then added mentally, 'What's so special about him? You'd think he'd died or something.'

"Frank! How are you, Frank?" asked Mike cheerfully.

Frank shrugged. "Pretty good. Been soul-stealing. In fact, you're actually on my list!" He looked at it again. "Huh, didn't know your middle name was 'Jefferson.' Anyway, when you've got a minute, uh, you know..."

The quartet on the Satellite were taken aback. "Whoops, looks like you'd better take off, Mike," said Crow urgently.

The thought suddenly occurred to Joel as Crow was speaking. 'That's right! He'll be heading back to Earth... and we could be too...'

"Hey, I don't suppose you could take us along, could you? You know, just to be nice and all..." asked Joel, somewhat nervous.

A cloud seemed to wash over Mike's eyes for a moment. "Mmm, I don't really want to," he answered at last.

'Whaaaaat?' "Why not?" Joel asked, bewildered. The bots appeared to share the same sentiment.

Mike hesitated for a mere fraction of a second, then replied, "Why? Because the years I spent on this Satellite were the best damn years of my life, and I wouldn't want you mugs to miss a minute of it!"

Joel blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. It made a man out of me, and maybe, just maybe, if you're lucky it'll make a man out of you!" Mike grinned, punching Joel in the shoulder.

It was this second statement that sent Joel's BS detectors spinning at high speed, and as the bots preened and began calling themselves men, Joel caught Mike by the shoulder as he turned towards the door. "Come on, man, that can't be it. What's the real reason?" he asked.

Mike stopped for a moment, then looked at Joel over his shoulder. The look in his eyes startled Joel -- a maelstrom of emotions were spinning in his eyes, ones which Joel couldn't fully comprehend. It was almost a mixture of guilt, anger and... jealousy?

He looked at him for a moment longer then said, softly, "It's all yours now. Take good care of it."

He departed, and Joel made no move to stop him. Mike's words were replaying themselves in his head. They seemed to impart more than just a simple "good luck." But what? Mike was the one with the successful job, the life back on Earth with real people. What did he mean by those words?

It was making Joel's head hurt thinking about all of it. The bots shaking him wasn't helping matters.

Wait, that wasn't a headache from thinking, that was...

Joel felt the floor fall out from beneath him, and the sound of panicked bots shouting his name was the last thing he heard before losing consciouness.

"Joel? Ah, not again! JOEL!"


"Mr. Robinson! Sir!"

Joel felt himself being shaken. "Aw, cut it out guys, I'm up."

"Sir? There's only me here. Are you all right?"

It suddenly occurred to Joel that he didn't recognize the voice speaking to him. His eyes shot open to find a pimply-faced youth looking at him, concerned.

"Sir? You just passed out all of a sudden. We got real worried!" he said.

Joel's mind raced to come up with something. "Uh, no, just a few too many late nights lately, I guess. Sorry if I worried you, uh..."

"It's me, Phil! You know, one of the waiters!" the boy exclaimed.

"Oh! Right. Sorry, guess I'm still a little woozy," Joel said. Which was to a certain extent true, but not entirely because of his blackout.

"Geez, maybe you oughta go home. I mean, that was real scary, sir," said the youth. "Besides, you're not seeing any applicants today, so maybe you oughta just take it easy."

"Applicants?" 'For short-order chef, perhaps?' "Oh, right! Applicants! Well, I guess I DO need to take a lie-down for awhile."

The youth nodded, relieved. "We'll probably do fine without ya, but get some rest, 'kay?" Phil, grinning, left the room.

Joel, now able to take in his surroundings, did so with a certain degree of trepidation. He was in a break room of some sort, with two slightly ratty couches and a table that held a coffee maker, several mugs and an empty box of donuts. The smell of fish wafted through the air, and it didn't take long for Joel to put two and two together.

The hot fish shop in Osseo. Joel had taken Mike's place.

For one wild, ecstatic moment, Joel realized he was back on Earth. He was having a difficult time restraining himself from whooping out loud in excitement. With carefully measured preciseness, he said his goodbyes to the various staff members (most of whom he didn't recognize at all, but faked it anyway) and left the restaurant. It was not until he'd made his way to his car (which wasn't too hard to find, considering it had "SOL" on the license plate) and had fumbled his way through his car keys into the car that he allowed himself the luxury of happiness.

His mind danced happy jigs. It was Earth! Real, green Earth! With soil and water and people and pollution! Well, the pollution wasn't so hot, but it was Earth! He couldn't believe his luck.

It was then that a couple of things hit him and brought him down hard. One, if he had truly taken Mike's place, then the bots wouldn't be there with him.

Two, he had absolutely no idea where he lived.

The second problem was easily rectified by a quick peek at his driver's license, but the first problem wouldn't be so easily solved. He held some shallow hope that this was an alternate version of the world where the bots had come with him, but the idea was soon shattered when he arrived at his apartment and found it devoid of any form of robotic
wisecrackers.

He flopped down on the sofa, depressed. He'd lived with the bots for ten years. Ten full years! And yet here he was, with a good job, a free life, and no Tom, Crow, Gypsy and Cambot. The last detail overwhelmed the two former.

With half an eye he noticed his counterpart had left the computer on. He did a double take as he suddenly noticed that the screen displayed a dog bone shape and a familiar G.

He bounded up and took a look at the diagnostics. It was the Satellite of Love, complete with the changes made by the "good" Doctor. But why was...

Joel's heart lurched as he noticed a little detail down in the corner. The Satellite was set to fall apart on April 11, 1999 at precisely10:00 AM.

He glanced quickly at the calender next to the computer. April 10. The time was 3:00 PM.

He had less than a day to save the Satellite.


Author's Notes:

Thanks again to the transcribers of Soultaker, and Satellite News as well for providing all the necessary info (including the original air date of Soultaker). Thanks to Stephanie Watson as well for beta-reading again -- despite what she says, every little bit helps.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 and all related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) by Best Brains Inc. All rights reserved.

I've been informed that Mike Nelson's real middle name is "John." However, I really can't be bothered changing it. Let's just say it's a character difference (like between Joel Hodgson and Joel Robinson) and leave it at that.

Of course, since I don't know when these episodes used to air, I'm taking liberties on what time the Satellite begins to self-destruct. This is why you should never become a fangirl of something after it ended, folks. *sigh*

*gets whacked by various people for restating the same bloody statement over and over again*

Incidentally, if somebody can recommend a good high-quality muse net, I'd love to get one.