(THEME MUSIC)
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
What do you make of it? Pulsar?
The sequence is regular enough, but no, I don't think so.
- Anything on the star charts? - Not within this quadrant.
Nothing listed. Not even a Federation beacon.
- It couldn't be that. - Why not?
This was never a transit lane for Federation ships. Unlikely to be one now.
The rate Servalan's empire is expanding, anything's possible.
Zen, are we within visual scanner range?
Negative.
- We're not disturbing you, I hope. - No. Carry on.
I'm just teaching Orac some new tricks.
Vila is teaching Orac? No, it doesn't make sense.
Avon, it could be a false echo on the medium-range detectors.
Could be. Zen, supply all available data on object bearing 0-1, intersect 5-7.
Cally, what's the distance?
- Three million spacials. - Zen, we're waiting.
Preliminary scan registers nil reading.
- Nothing at all? - That is correct.
What about its electromagnetic spectrum?
The object has no electromagnetic spectrum.
But it must have.
Zen, are we within visual scanner range now?
Affirmative.
All right, let's see what this mysterious lump of nothing looks like.
What the hell is that?
Whatever it is, I don't like the look of it.
Question is, does it like the look of us?
Don't deny us the benefit of your brilliant insights, Avon.
No need to be brilliant, just observant. It can only be one thing:
an artificial planet.
Artificial? You mean man-made?
Or made by an alien life form.
Alien? Who's talking about aliens?
Go back to your class, teacher.
As Cally says, it's likely that was constructed by an alien life form...
which would explain the absence of any electromagnetic spectrum.
There must be some kind of surface shielding that blocks radiation leakage.
All we picked up were reflections.
But it looks dead. No atmosphere. Nothing could live on that, surely?
Not on it, no. But inside it.
- What are you doing? - Nothing, on all channels.
Either it is dead, or there's a total radio blackout.
- I wonder what they have to hide. - I'm not keen on finding out.
- This time, neither am I. - Don't you find it interesting?
Next you'll tell us we can learn a lot from whoever built it.
We have nothing to teach them except how to remain ignorant.
What do you think? Shall we stay and observe...
or scuttle off with our closed minds intact?
- It would be dangerous to go too near. - My feelings exactly.
All right. We'll put the Liberator in orbit 1,000 spacials out.
- And just observe? - Is that safe enough for you?
All right, I'll set a course to bring her in.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
No, Orac, you don't understand.
I say, "Where do space pilots leave their ships?"
You say, "I don't know, where do they leave their ships?"
Supposing I don't wish to know that?
- You must say it or the riddle won't work. - It is nonsensical.
- That's the whole idea. - I fail to see...
why I should take part in a meaningless, illogical conversation.
Makes no sense and is a waste of time. I'm shutting down.
Do it for me this once, Orac, please. Ready?
Where do space pilots leave their ships?
I don't know. Where do space pilots leave their ships?
At parking meteors.
(ORAC EXCLAIMS)
He's getting worse.
If that's possible. Course laid in.
Zen, confirm acceptance.
Navigation computers online. Acceptance confirmed.
All right. It'll be a while before we reach it.
In the meantime, I suggest we all get some rest.
Why not?
(OMINOUS INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Which lock can't be opened by a key?
An airlock.
Vila.
Just a minute. Listen to this.
- Vila, have you seen... - Which lock can't be opened by a key?
An airlock.
Don't you think that's funny?
- Have you seen Cally? - Everyone's a critic.
- Have you seen her? - No, what's the matter?
I'm not sure.
Someone's been tampering with the teleport.
- What do you mean, tampering? - The coordinates have been realigned.
Don't look at me.
(INTERCOM BEEPS)
Vila, come to the flight deck. Right now, Vila.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Are you sure? I didn't hear it.
- Wait, let me get a fix on the signal. - From the planet?
Somebody's trying to contact us. Listen.
- Where's the fire? - Be quiet, Vila.
- I don't know where I am. - That's Cally's voice.
Cally, this is Liberator. Where are you? State your precise location.
Help me, please. I don't know where I am.
Cally, where are you? We need your location.
I don't know. I don't know where I am.
Help me.
(SINISTER INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
It's no good, we've lost it.
I don't understand. How did she get down there?
- Must've used Orac. - That's not what I meant.
- You better tell them, Dayna. - Tell us what?
The teleport coordinates have been altered to a new alignment.
So that's how.
How but not why. What's the reason?
Why suddenly decide to teleport down to a strange planet? Day trip?
When the planet was on the screen, did anyone notice Cally's reaction?
I didn't.
- You were teaching Orac nursery rhymes. - Riddles.
This isn't going to get her back. Let's get moving.
- I wouldn't advise it. - What would you advise?
That we exchange speculations? You heard the transmissions.
Cally's in trouble. She needs help.
In my book, you don't ignore a call from a crew member.
- Meaning? - Meaning I'm going down.
If we use the same coordinates, we should find ourselves...
In the same trouble that Cally's in.
We'll see.
Wait. That's an artificial planet out there...
probably constructed by aliens, certainly unknown...
and possibly beyond our comprehension.
And you're planning to go charging in without knowing what it's like...
- or what to expect. - You've convinced me.
Which is a pretty strong argument for not waiting a second longer.
We can't plan for something of which we've no earthly knowledge.
Maybe you're right. Let's go.
- Touch of conscience? - More like insanity.
You really believe in taking risks, don't you?
- Calculated ones. - Calculated on what?
Your fingers?
Looks like you've been elected to mind the ship.
What a shame. Never mind.
I'll stay behind instead if you like.
No. I wouldn't deprive you. I see you're raring to go.
- You won't be lonely? - I've got Orac for company.
I hope the two of you will be very happy.
I still can't see why she would want to go down. It doesn't make sense.
Does what we're doing?
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Let's go.
- What is it? - Look.
- A circuit diagram. - Of a computer.
- What's it doing here? - It's a map.
A map?
Of this. We are inside a computer.
Avon. Dayna.
We are the Ultra.
Welcome, Avon, Tarrant, Dayna.
Welcome to Ultraworld.
So you know our names. What about you?
- We are the Ultra. - So you said.
Our sole function and purpose is to gather and accumulate information.
All this? Just to collect information?
Data processing. Storage and retrieval. Ultraworld is a computer.
Possibly the greatest concentration of computer power in the known systems.
You speak knowledgeably.
I can recognise germanium circuitry when I see it.
Avon. Yes, of course.
The electronics expert who single-handed embezzled 500 million credits...
from the Federation Banking cartel.
- An audacious theft. - If it had worked.
And you, Del Tarrant.
Graduate of the Federation Space Academy.
Posted as missing, along with the Federation pursuit ship...
which you used to run contraband in the outer planets.
You seem to know everything.
That is our mission:
To gather and accumulate information on all known worlds and civilisation.
Our memory banks contain a considerable amount of data about Earth.
(HUMMING)
Third planet of an unremarkable star.
Planetary mass is of an order which is common enough.
The atmosphere is an unremarkable mix. Principally oxygen and nitrogen.
- All in all your world is.... - Unremarkable.
Except for the dominant species it gave rise to.
- At least it's got something of interest. - Everything has something of interest.
Yes, well. So much about us. What about you? You built all this?
- Not quite. - Then how?
It built itself. We are merely the custodians.
You were not strictly correct in calling Ultraworld a computer.
Ultraworld is much more than that.
It possesses consciousness, self-awareness.
You mean it's alive?
By any meaningful definition of the word, yes.
We're wasting time.
Wait a minute. Germanium circuitry is clever stuff...
but to my knowledge, it cannot think for itself...
nor can it reproduce its own structure.
- You have an astute mind, Avon. - If you say so.
There is another process involved.
Nucleoplasmic absorption.
That's a relief. I thought it might be something complicated.
The process is extremely complex.
Ignore him. That's what passes for wit onboard our ship.
Your profile on our species should have included our sense of humour.
As you're so wise and all-knowing...
you can tell us what's happened to our crew member...
and where we can find her.
What's the matter with her? Is she all right?
The female Cally is in a state of natural sleep. She is recovering.
From what?
She has undergone a severe mental trauma.
We placed her in a sleep cell to facilitate recovery.
- What caused this trauma? - We don't know.
Our instruments can detect no physical damage.
- We want to see her. - Of course.
A most fascinating type of humanoid species, this girl Cally.
One of the few telepaths we have encountered.
Have you encountered many species?
Millions.
(SINISTER INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
- Knock knock. - Who's there?
- Atch. - Atch who?
- Sorry, I didn't know you had a cold. - A cold what?
No, not a cold what. Just a cold. You know, cold, chill.
I am not subject to colds and chills.
Some trace deposits on my anodisers, perhaps...
but I'm capable of dealing with that myself.
Forget it. Go back to sleep.
- Is this another riddle? - No.
The idiosyncratic syntax of riddles interests me.
Their effect seems to depend on solecisms and grammatical discrepancies.
Eh?
Do you have another riddle for me to analyse?
- You'd spoil it. - I thought you liked riddles.
I do, when allowed to tell them properly.
All you're interested in is the idiotic tintax or something.
- That's very clever. - What is?
For idiosyncratic syntax, you substituted idiotic tintax.
- Yes, very good. - Is it?
- Another one, please. - Right.
What's the best cure for water on the brain?
I don't know. What's the cure for water on the brain?
- A tap on the head. - A tap on the head.
I see. In this instance, the word "tap" has a double meaning:
As in, to strike something, and as a device for controlling...
the release of fluid from a tank or pipe. The fluid referred to is water...
therefore "tap on the head" has two ambivalent meanings:
one pertaining to striking the cranium....
She looks all right. She's breathing normally.
Perhaps the Ultras were telling us the truth.
- I don't know. Avon? - They've presented no threat so far.
- Maybe they're biding their time. - What for?
They could take us out easily with their technology.
Damn their technology. Is that all you care about. What about Cally?
How'd she get here? Why are they holding her?
According to the Ultra, Cally is suffering from some mental disturbance.
- They put her in here for her own good. - For how long?
- Presumably until she recovers. - You're willing to take it all on trust?
I don't take anything on trust.
It would be the height of stupidity to interfere and endanger Cally's life...
if that's what you were thinking.
We seem to have no choice but to accept the Ultra's word...
and to accept that their sole function is to gather information.
- And we're supposed to believe them? - What else are we to believe?
I told you, they could take us out like that.
Why should they bother to lie?
What was that about nucleoplasmic absorption? I didn't understand.
Neither did I. It's outside my field.
Something to do with cellular regeneration, I think.
Then maybe Ultraworld is a living organism.
Maybe. We'd better contact Vila, make sure he's awake.
Vila. Do you read?
Knock knock. Who's there? The invisible man.
Tell him I can't see him.
Vila. Where are you, Vila?
Yes, I'm here. What is it?
I told you to stand by. Not lie down.
I was standing by. Anyway, what's going on?
Not much. We found Cally. She seems to be all right.
- Are you ready to teleport? - Not yet but I want you to be.
You don't want me to come down?
I want you to be ready to teleport us up.
I was. I am.
And, Vila, prime the neutron blasters, just in case.
Dayna.
- What is it? - We seem to have lost Tarrant.
- What? - You'd better find him.
Right.
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(BUZZING)
Who are you, I wonder?
Specimen P 7-9-4-3-0-1-1, humanoid vertebrate.
Subcategory menial. What information do you require?
Specimen. But your identity: Who are you? Where are you from?
My name is Relf of Probus 4.
But if your thoughts and memories are in this cylinder, where are you?
No knowledge, cannot answer.
- Are there others like you? - Yes.
And where are they?
Some menials like me. Others absorbed in the core.
- Core, what's that? - No knowledge, cannot answer.
They exist in the core?
The core lives to expand. It must expand to live.
What is the core? Where is it?
No knowledge, cannot answer.
(DOOR OPENS)
Sleep cell.
(ELECTRONIC WAVE SOUND)
- Status? - Transference is proceeding normally.
Complete mental profile and personality spectrum is filed in memory store.
Physiological characteristics.
Transferred. Soon she will be wiped clean, ready for absorption.
Fine specimen.
Categorise as humanoid vertebrate. Subcategory: telepath.
Very shortly we can remove her from the sleep cell.
- And the others? - They will be dealt with in due course.
Unless the others deal with you first.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
I just hope for your sakes, the process is reversible...
because if it isn't....
Keep back. Keep back.
You cannot resist the power of the core.
It overcomes everything.
(EXPLOSION)
Tarrant, this way, quickly.
(ULTRAS COUGHING)
We've got to warn Avon and get Cally out of that thing.
What have they done to her?
- We have to get out of sight quickly. - Like where, for example?
Come on.
Vila, do you read?
Yes, go ahead.
- Ever alert as usual. - You know me. What's up?
We could be...correction, we are in trouble.
Stand by to bring us up. I'll keep this channel open.
I'll get back to the teleport. What's the problem?
Right now your guess is as good as mine. It doesn't look promising.
(AVON GRUNTS)
Go on, Avon. Are you there?
I'm here. Are you there?
Avon.
Oh, no.
Oh, please, no.
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(WHISPERING) What now?
Avon, this is Tarrant. Come in.
Avon, are you there? Do you hear me?
Cally is in danger. Avon, do you hear? Cally is in danger.
Cally. What have they done to her?
Something called transference.
Ever seen a lizard suck a bird's egg dry?
That's what they were doing to Cally's brain.
Draining her memory and personality and transferring them to the memory store.
That was the purpose of the sleep cell.
- And afterwards, what happens to... - Whatever's left? I don't know.
The Ultra talked about absorption, whatever that is.
Or maybe the victims end up like those. Walking dead.
Step forward, menial.
You have your next instructions. You understand them?
Proceed.
So now there are three left.
For a supposedly intelligent species, they are remarkably stupid.
And when we've taken all five?
Then we take the prize exhibit for the museum:
The ship.
(OMINOUS INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
You'd only bite my head off anyway.
Orac, can you give me some advice?
Please don't waste my time with foolish generalities.
I must insist you ask specific questions.
Shut up, you arrogant pile of junk.
- Now where? - Well, we're lost.
Perhaps not.
We're here. That's where we are. Here.
(SUSPENSEFUL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Tarrant, where are you going?
(POUNDING)
Tarrant, what is it? What's that sound?
There's a door back there, quick.
Dayna.
- Oh, it's cold in here. - It's freezing.
What do you suppose this is?
A storeroom, I would say, if there was anything stored here.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
They've gone.
(GASPING)
(SINISTER INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
You wanted to know what happens to them afterwards. Here's your answer.
- Are they dead? - If they're not, they soon will be.
No organism could withstand this temperature for long.
- What's going to happen to them? - Absorption.
Absorbed into what? The memory store?
No. Their brain patterns are already stored there.
These are just the empty husks, their minds wiped clean.
- Perhaps they're food. - Food? For what?
- For thought. - You mean their bodies are going...
- What now? - Let's follow, see where they go.
Sleep will soon come.
And when it does, transference will take place.
It is quite painless.
You'll feel nothing.
Ever again.
Your mind will be released from your body. That is all.
First of all you have to make me sleep. I tend to suffer from insomnia.
- You will sleep. - I don't plan to.
Do you suppose you have a choice?
(HUMMING)
I will not sleep.
You were right. They're feeding something.
But what?
The planet. The Ultra said it was alive...
that it possessed awareness, consciousness.
But it's a computer, not a living organism.
Memory banks, germanium circuitry. We saw it all on the screens.
Perhaps not all, Tarrant.
(DISTANT POUNDING)
Listen.
It's coming from over there.
- Absorbed in the core. - What?
This is what happens to the brains when they've been wiped clean.
With every new victim, the core expands, increases in brainpower.
It's grown this big by absorbing the billions of intelligent creatures fed to it.
It's growing all the while.
Becoming more and more powerful.
Cally. What about Cally?
- We may be too late. - She could be in there.
A strong mind. Most would have succumbed by now.
It will not be long.
They struggle, fight against it, but none can resist the power of the core.
This specimen is strong in body, too.
He'd make a good menial when transference is complete.
No. After his brain has been cleansed it will be absorbed.
The core needs new cellular tissue of such high calibre.
- The other male. - The one called Tarrant.
We will take him as a menial. The female will be absorbed.
They are now in section Delta One.
(BEEPING)
- What caused that? - I'm not waiting to find out. Come on.
One male, one female.
I think we might try a small experiment.
Experiment?
It'll be useful data for the memory store.
(EXPLOSION)
No, not that way. We need you for our experiment.
Find them. Take them unharmed.
They're trying to drive us back to the core.
I'm too young to be absorbed.
I know where we are. This way.
Over there.
(DAYNA QUAVERING)
(DAYNA GASPS)
Cally.
Cally, it's me, Dayna.
Cally, can you hear me? Do you understand?
Cally, wake up.
It's no good. There's nothing there.
What can we do?
- Reinstate her memory. - How?
- By reversing the process. - Can it be reversed?
- Well, can it? - I don't know.
The Ultra transferred her brain patterns to a memory tube.
Her thoughts, memories, emotions have been filed away.
- We have to find that tube. - Let's find it.
- Dayna, wait. - We haven't time to wait.
Soon we may have all the time in the world.
What do you mean?
Let's use our brains instead of having them transferred.
Getting caught won't help Cally. Let's think about it.
Well?
Vila, this is Tarrant. Do you read?
Tarrant calling Liberator. Vila, are you there? Come in.
Thank heavens. I thought you'd all gone and left me.
Gone where? Listen, Vila, this is important.
Will somebody tell me what's going on? Where's Avon. Is he with you?
We tried to contact him and couldn't. Have you heard from him?
- Yes and no. - This is no time for riddles.
You're telling me that.
I was talking to him and he broke contact. Not a word of explanation.
We'll see what we can do.
We've got problems of our own with Cally.
- Cally's there with you? - In a manner of speaking.
- What do you mean? - Never mind.
We may have to get her up there. Stand by the teleport.
Why not? What else is there to do except stand by the teleport?
(MENIALS GRUNTING)
(GRIPPING INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(VILA) Did you hear what I said? Tarrant. Dayna.
Hello.
Hello?
Goodbye.
No. We won't do it.
- Do you speak for both? - Yes, she does.
That is one thing you can't make us do.
Perhaps not, though we might offer an inducement.
Such as?
Your fellow crew members are still alive. Whether they remain so is up to you.
We require the human bonding ceremony.
Why?
The accumulation of data is our sole function and purpose, as we have said.
For your cosmic encyclopaedia?
We have collected a great deal of information...
about Earth and its dominant species with one important omission.
We intend to rectify that deficiency.
And if we agree?
We shall reconsider the fate of your friends. And, of course, yourselves.
- Is that the best you can do? No deal. - Just a minute.
- Could you give Cally her memory back? - Perhaps.
- So it is possible to reverse the process? - It is possible.
And would you release all four of us and allow us to return to our ship?
That decision must be referred to the core.
- The core will decide? - Of course.
The core's the living consciousness of the planet. We're its servants.
We obey without question.
Tarrant, I think we should accept the offer.
Then we can return to the Liberator.
You can't be serious. You don't believe them.
We have to believe if we hope to survive.
- Kiss me. - What?
I said, kiss me.
Come on. I can't be all that repulsive.
(BUZZING)
Has the bonding ceremony begun?
You could say so.
But we do better without interruptions.
- Are you ready? - The core is awaiting the signal.
Wave emissions increasing. Locked onto spacecraft.
Focus emissions.
Is the remaining crew member capable of piloting the spacecraft alone?
According to the female Cally's memory traces, we should have no trouble.
He is weak-willed and easily lead.
The ship's master computer Zen will operate all functions on his command.
And any intelligent creature with a rational thought process...
is as capable of being manipulated.
This one is no exception.
- Wave emissions at optimum. - Give the signal.
(OMINOUS INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
Help. I'm being got at.
Orac, do something.
You've got to help me. Help me.
Activator? What did I do with it?
I'll never call you names again, Orac. Never again, I promise.
Orac, I need your help. There's something here.
Not now. I'm busy analysing the semantic structure...
of synonyms and antonyms as it pertains to the specific instance of riddles.
How's that, darling?
- More comfortable? - Oh, yes. Much better.
Thank you, darling.
I've heard of people having tricks up their sleeve. But this is....
- How long? - All of ten seconds.
- As much as that? - Less now. About seven.
Or nearer five.
(MOUTHING)
Now.
(EXPLOSION)
Is that the bonding ceremony?
- We must find them. - Leave them. They have nowhere to go.
(FAST-PACED INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
"There was young lady named Perkins who was very fond of small gherkins
"One day at tea, she ate 43, and pickled her internal workings"
Excellent. Another one, Vila.
- Don't know any more. - Another one.
Can't remember.
A riddle. A limerick. A word puzzle. Think, Vila, think.
- "There was a young man from...." - From where? Think.
Can't remember.
(INTENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
(MENIAL GRUNTING)
What's happening?
Do you mind if we talk about it later? Come on.
(DRONING)
Get these two to the sleep cell, I'll get the memory tubes.
Right.
- Frequency wave emissions out of phase. - Primary circuits register overload.
Wave emissions approaching critical.
No. Impossible. The core is self-compensating.
Check for malfunction.
Critical status is confirmed.
- The core is unstable. - No! Check again.
(DEVICE WHIRRING)
- Section Beta? - All circuits register overload.
Attempt manual compensation.
Negative response.
- Operate primary fail-safe terminals. - Confirmed.
Stabilisation.
- Negative response. - Entering critical phase.
But how? The wave emissions were at optimum.
Nothing can resist the power of the core.
Something did. Something we couldn't foresee and didn't allow for.
Something on that ship.
We were in control. We brought the ship in.
Terminal condition imminent.
- Without the core, Ultraworld can't exist. - We cannot survive.
- Can we prevent it? - We must.
Activate final fail-safes. Now.
Something on that ship.
"...if a woodchuck could chuck wood"
"How much wood could a woodchuck chuck
- "If a woodchuck could chuck wood?" - Encore.
It's so slow. Can't we speed it up?
We dare not risk it.
If the memory traces aren't implanted exactly as before...
they'll end up with scrambled brain cells.
- What's the matter? - The memory tubes.
I hope they're in the right order.
You mean you could have got them....
That could be interesting.
(EXPLOSION)
The core.
- It's having some kind of brain storm. - What's causing it?
- Overload. - Of what?
A brain that size could cope with anything.
You know what they say. The bigger they are....
Think of the problems the human brain has and multiply that by a few billion.
- That could be quite a headache. - We've got one ourselves.
Come on.
Are you all right? Cally?
Yes, I think so.
- Good. Right, let's get out of here. - We have no bracelets.
They brought the ship down. It's here in Ultraworld.
- Here? Can you find it? - Yes.
- Then let's go. - Bring Cally.
You all right?
- Better now? - Yes.
Right. Come on.
(TENSE INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
Come on.
(ALARM BUZZING)
Watch the door.
- Vila, are you there? - Who else could it be?
Look, what is going on? Will somebody...
Shut up. Open the starboard airlock. We're on our way.
- Why not teleport? It'll save time. - Do it.
Right.
(BUZZING)
- You finished? - Yes.
Then let's get out of here.
Vila, 90 degrees lateral thrust. Now.
- I wish I knew what was going on. - Get to your place.
Full thrust. Give it everything you've got.
Brace yourselves.
(MYSTERIOUS INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC)
- What did you feel like, Avon? - What?
Being an entry in an encyclopaedia.
He wouldn't mind, so long as they filed him under "genius".
You'd have all been filed away if it hadn't been for me.
And Orac, I suppose.
- You? - Yes, me.
- What precisely did you do? - What did I do?
Only saved your neck. That's what.
Ask Orac. Go on. Ask him.
Orac, is it true that we have an unsung hero in our midst?
- To whom are you referring? - Vila.
Vila served a useful purpose in distracting and confusing...
the energy waves emanating from the planet.
- Useful purpose. - Meanwhile...
I was able to project those same wave emissions...
back to their primary source.
- So Vila acted as a kind of mental decoy. - Decoy.
So the core was subjected to its own emissions?
- Correct. - Self-brainwashing.
There's poetic justice for you.
Orac, how precisely did Vila confuse and distract Ultraworld?
Quite simple.
With a series of random and illogical brain impulses.
The planet was programmed to assimilate orderly coherent thought patterns.
Anything else confused it.
You mean Vila spouted nonsense?
- I resent that. - I wouldn't if I were you.
Orac is saying that a logical, rational intelligence...
is no match for yours.
(THEME MUSIC)