Star Trek: Picard -- "Et in Arcadia Ego, pt. 2"

Going into this week, there was exactly one way that I could imagine Picard saving itself from the dustbin of mediocrity: Seven-of-Nine and Elnor patch up the Artifact and leave the planet of the Synths to star in their own spin-off-spin-off series

Star Trek: Rangers of the Neutral Zone
"Decapitating people and fighting crime"

Alas, it was not to be, and once again I find myself holed up in the dark of night hate-blogging about my favorite deep space franchise.

I am going to go ahead and assume that much will be written about this season finale's abject failure to execute on the most basic elements of story telling. "Abusive Romulan Boyfriend" (that's what Raffi actually calls him, because he has no name) shows up at La Sirena, explaining to Captain Rios and Raffi, who left the city of the Synths long before the apocalyptic nature of Commodore Oh's vision was explained to anyone, that they have to work together to prevent Romulan Ragnarok. Captain Rios and Raffi, of course, believe him, because he has such penetrating blue eyes. Commodore Oh, possessed of a deep religious conviction that the Synths must die for the good of all life, when presented with a choice between carrying out her mission and defending her fleet of 200 warbirds against a holographic projection of 100 ships, each less than a third the size of a single warbird, chooses to take defensive action rather than carry out "planetary sterilization procedure 5" (because, of course the Romulans have more than 4 ways to wipe out all life on a planet). Captain Picard dies of an acute Irumodic attack, mourned by people who are not named Riker, Troi, LaForge, Worf, or Crusher, but it's alright because Doctor Jurati knows how to download brains into synthetic bodies. Apparently, you build synthetic life forms out of flesh and blood so that you don't have to deal with the mass opprobrium that would result from recasting one of the most beloved roles in all of science fiction simply because the actor who originated the role is too old to play an android. None of these moments make any sense or have any meaning and yet, without them, the story Picard was always trying to tell us would, I guess, not have been impossible. Perhaps this story should never have been told.

Star Trek has always been problematic -- it wasn't until mid-Deep Space Nine that its treatment of race got any more nuanced than "imagine a colorblind society," and I similarly doubt that anything pre-Kira and Dax could remotely be considered "feminist" -- but it has somehow managed to always remain simultaneously aspirational. Human society was perfectible, but only if we lived into our ideals better than we ever had before. At the intellectual fulcrum of this episode, as Jean-Luc and Doctor Jurati are strapping themselves into La Sirena, preparing to face down the Romulan fleet alone, Jean-Luc explains that the problem with the Synths, the reason that they are even contemplating wiping out all sex-based life in the galaxy, is that "no one has taught them what it means to be alive; what life is for...they're just children. They are going to have to learn the way all children do: by example." By Jean-Luc's example. Put another way, "we already had the key to our perfectible human society, but you doofuses lost it under the couch." This is more backward looking than I think Star Trek has ever been. The Synths are not children. They are not incapable of making their own moral choices in the universe. They are refugees from an attempted genocide. The Federation has outlawed their existence. The Romulans want to blow them up right now. Absent any sign of good faith from powers which have already attempted mass murder, the Synths are going to have to defend themselves. Admiral Picard wants them to run away and trust in his own beneficence ("I will be your advocated before the Federation; I will protect you") without any evidence beyond his own self-confidence in the face of past failures that his beneficence can turn the tide. He leans into the 24th century liberal humanism which has guided his entire life thus far without once stopping to consider that a Federation organized around that very liberal humanism brought about this mess by banning synthetic life. Admiral Picard is white America, wagging his finger as Baltimore takes to the streets without bothering to count in his head exactly how many unarmed black men have died at the hands of the police in the past... ever. Whatever happened to "She tried it Bruce Maddux's way; she tried it my way; let's try it her way, now"? That was two episodes ago.

I don't consume a lot of media about media. However, my understanding is that Patrick Stewart warmed to the idea of Picard because he thought it was an appropriate response to how the Anglo-Saxon world has unfolded in the quarter century since he sat down to a hand of poker with the crew of the Enterprise. The fragment of an interview I heard on NPR, Sir Patrick said something about the shame of Brexit. I cannot imagine that he is terribly pleased with how his adopted homeland has comported itself, either. I understand the impulse. Most well-meaning liberal reactions to the events of 2016 start somewhere in the vicinity of "but, we're better than this" (I suspect that is going to be the overarching theme of Joe Biden's general election campaign). Honest assessments of what happened, however, inevitably must turn that complaint into a question: "aren't we?" Large swaths of our well meaning liberal society stand ready too look deep into our eyes and whisper: "no." America did not accidentally arrive in the middle of a serious debate about whether or not we want to become a white ethnostate. We arrived here by allowing our faith in the meritorious individual to blind us to all the ways, large and small, that we had allowed our society to remain stratified by race long after we "knew" that it was wrong to do so. We did not accidentally become a society in which the chorus of misogynist trolls can exile women artists from digital communities. We became that society by assuming that all feminism demanded of us was to allow women to participate in our highly questionable model of masculinity without seriously examining whether or not that model weren't predicated on domination and the will to power. And then we invented social media. We have been living into our ideals just fine, Jean-Luc. The problem is that they were the wrong ideals. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe Star Trek was going to confront this terrifying reality at the same time that we are being forced to live through it. I'm sorry I was wrong. As I said: I need a Starfleet captain to scold me into shape every now and then. Jean-Luc Picard is no longer that captain.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Et in Arcadia Ego pt. 1"

If last week was an homage to the Next Generation's love of exposition, this week seems to have embraced the Original Series' love of...itself?  "Very fit people in loosely draped yet still revealing clothes wander about a Mediterranean garden explaining how much better they are than you." Honestly, you would be hard-pressed to find an episode of the Original Series which did not fit this description. In 2020, the very fit people in question are synthetics. The way in which they are better than you is unclear. The crew of La Sirena (and, inexplicably, the Artifact) have crash landed on Soji's home planet and hiked into her home city where their arrival has sparked a debate about whether or not it is justifiable for the synthetics to commit a genocide against all sex-based life in order to prevent the Romulans from committing a genocide against the last remaining synthetic life in this quadrant. Apparently, the Linda Hamilton vision that Commodore Oh downloaded into Doctor Jurati's brain wasn't a warning to the sexies against the perils of building artificial intelligence; it was an invitation to the synthetics: "we are out there; if your sex-based overlords ever decide to kill you, call us, and we will kill them for you." No one really knows who "we" are in this proposition; my money is on the Vorlon god Boji. There's much to be infuriated about in this episode: the awkward debate between Jean-Luc and Soji over whether or not killing is ever justified; Jean-Luc's earnest belief that he can white savior his way out of this mess ("come with me and I will be your advocate to the Federation; you don't have to kill anyone; I will save you")*; Evil Soji's (because of course there's an Evil Soji) plan to release Romulan Boyfriend from jail so that she can frame him for the murder of Saga and rally her compatriots to the cause of "murder all the sexies." If you chose to hate this episode because Evil Soji taught herself the Vulcan mindmeld I wouldn't blame you. I am choosing to hate this episode because of how bloody long it took us to get here. "Romulans want to kill off a planet of androids. The androids plan to commit preemptive, self-defensive genocide. Captain McLiberal-Values must prevent the bloodshed by reminding everyone about life in a pluralistic democracy and the Rights of Man." Old school Star Trek, by which I mean anything pre-Enterprise (weird... I just had a hallucination in which there was a Star Trek series called Enterprise; it starred Scott Bakula for some reason... I must be more tired than I thought) would have told this story in one episode (two if they were feeling lazy at the season break). It has taken us an entire season to get to the rising action part of the story. Everything up until this point has been meaningless misdirection (of the characters, not the viewers; I don't know if that makes it better) or characterization of people, specifically Irish people, who are no longer a part of the story. I don't actually mind the story you are trying to tell, Star Trek -- I enjoyed What Are Little Girls Made Of? as much as the next thirteen year old -- I mind that this seems to be the only story you are trying to tell.**

Other things to be upset about that don't fit into my general narrative:

Saga, a synthetic, was killed by having a hummingbird broach jammed through her eye. In Time's Arrow Data's head was cut off. In Disaster Commander Riker removed Data's head. In Thine Own Self, a blacksmith ran Data through with a metal spike. In all cases, Data could be and in fact was repaired. Again, I ask: what is the point of making an android out of flesh and blood, anyway?

Doctor Noonian Soong had a biological son who is also played by Brent Spiner. Wouldn't we have known that already?

* I'm actually less annoyed by Jean-Luc's attempt to white savior his way out of it than I am by the sneaking suspicion that the lesson of part 2 will be that everything would have been fine if they had just trusted Jean-Luc to be their white savior. I guess, after all that we've been through, this is still Star Trek.

**Still better than Discovery...

Star Trek: Picard -- "Broken Pieces"

If you ask most people to give an operational definition of Star Trek, they will probably say something about space and boldly going. I, however, am a child of the nineties. My Star Trek is irrevocably the Next Generation. For me, Star Trek is about well-meaning, intelligent people sitting around a table explaining the crap out of things. It only took us eight episodes, but we finally got there. The crew of La Sirena sat down in the mess hall and things got explained. Was that so hard?

Seriously: was any of this so hard? After the total disaster that was the last two episodes, this week's offering was thoroughly tolerable. Soji is aware that she is a synthetic lifeform and acting accordingly. She is longing for home, worried about her people, and more than a little annoyed that Doctor Jurati intended to murder her out of hand. Not, mind you, so annoyed as to forgo the obligatory "prick me, do I not bleed?" conversation with Doctor Jurati. This is, after all, Star Trek. Forgiveness is always possible, no matter how unearned. It is amazing how one basic detail (letting the character at the center of the entire plot be aware of who she is and what she wants and why anything that is happening to her is happening) can make the difference between a mildly enjoyable and an almost unwatchable television show. Doctor Jurati, for her part, has admitted that being evil was a bad move and has pinky-promised never to do it again (all it took was one murder!). Jean-Luc may or may not have admitted that he has been a bit of a jerk ("She's tried it Bruce Maddux's way; she's tried it my way; let's let her try it her way"). And Raffi was right! Raffi is always right. There has been a massive interstellar conspiracy this whole time.

Thousands of years ago, the Vorlons and the Shadows disagreed... no; wait; wrong TV show. Let me try again.

Thousands of years ago, a now dead civilization in what is currently Romulan space invented androids. Something Terrible noticed and destroyed them. Not the androids; the entire civilization. The Zhat Vash (it would be too much effort to learn how to actually spell those words) knows all of this and have devoted themselves to making sure no one ever again creates artificial intelligence true enough for Something Terrible to notice. It's unclear how the crew of La Sirena know all of this, too, but was it ever really clear how Data, Geordi and Wesley knew half of the things that they explained around a table? Honestly, the only thing that really bothers me about this explanation for literally everything that has happened so far is that it puts Star Trek on the "fantasy" side of my personal boundary between science fiction and fantasy.

To my mind, science fiction is about the future and fantasy is about the past relative to the characters. In my personal definition of science fiction, someone invents or discovers something that has never existed before in the world of the story and the characters proceed to explore the ramifications of that discovery. US Robotics and Mechanical Men builds quasi-people who obey three laws, the implications of which are not entirely understood, even by their authors. All of the communists leave Urras for Anarres to see see if they can actually make a go of it. Disillusioned by all of the ways humans can be brutal to each other, a radio astronomer announces Earth's existence to a universe characterized by soul-crushing scarcity. Fantasy (again: according to my personal definition) is about something that has been forgotten re-emerging from past. Forgetfulness, generally, has very negative consequences. Three thousand years ago, the Noldor let Sauron look over their shoulder as they made the Rings of Power (oops!). For a thousand generations, the Jedi held a Manichean view of how good and evil works in the universe and, as a result, completely misread their own prophecies. Aslan is an allegory for Jesus. This is obviously a porous and not terribly well-motivated definition, but it is my definition which is used by me. It leads to some non-traditional classifications. Star Wars is fantasy. Harry Potter is probably science fiction (Voldemort does take the theory of horcruxes to heretofore unexplored limits; also he appears to invent wizard fascism). Babylon 5 is complicated. It helps that, in my middle age, I don't actually care if something is science fiction or fantasy. I like robots, spaceships, and dragons -- the past and the future -- equally. I do care, however, about the themes that each represents. Science fiction is about looking forward and building a better (or worse) world out of our own potential. Fantasy is about restoring that which has been lost (the king at Minas Tirith; balance in the Force; whatever it is Aslan wanted that couldn't be accomplished without the aid of four middle class British children). Up until this point, I felt very confident that Star Trek was science fiction, which is to say: forward looking. Whatever went wrong was the result of mistakes made by the Federation. Whatever went right happened in spite of the choices made by the Federation. This story about an Eldritch Horror from the Deeps of Time that will consume all whose technological hubris proves too great is almost literally backward looking. Research into artificial intelligence was, apparently, outlawed, because the Romulans convinced everyone else to start looking over their shoulder before they leaped too far and suffered the consequences of someone else's mistake that no one can actually remember. I'm not saying that this story can't be enjoyable (ask me about Babylon 5; see if I ever stop talking). I might be saying that it isn't what I want from Star Trek.

Other things happened in this episode, nearly all of them on the Artifact. As usual: nothing that happened on the Artifact filled me with joy. Seven-of-Nine did show up. Turns out, bringing a gun to a gun fight is a good idea. Ultimately, she plugs herself into the Borg Queen's throne room (?) in an attempt to take direct control of the remaining fully assimilated Borg on the cube, organizing them into an armed revolt against Rizzo's tyrranical rule. It doesn't matter, though, because Rizzo has already decided to dump all of the Borg into space. Thankfully, the XBs have enough sense of self preservation to take down Rizzo on their own (or maybe Seven was controlling them, too, it's unclear, but they are XBs). As far as I can tell, all of this happened so that a) Seven-of-Nine can explain why using the Borg Queen's personal terminal to hijack the minds of the remaining drones is Very Unethical and b) Elnor (who is still on the Artifact, Daddy issues notwithstanding) can ask Seven "are you going to assimilate me now?" The answer is no. Seven passes the test and will go into the West and remain a poorly-justified bit of fan service. So far: nothing Borg-related in this series has made any sense or met any definition of the word "justified" as a story choice. Pour one out for Hugh.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Nepenthe"

There is something worse than the experience of being transparently emotionally manipulated by a television show: the experience of knowing that a television show thinks that it is emotionally manipulating you, but realizing that it isn't working. Jean-Luc and Soji have escaped to Nepenthe, adoptive homeworld of the Troi-Riker (henceforth: Triker) household. Lots of exposition happens in which Soji begins to comes to terms with the fact that she is an android, while the Trikers' daughter figures out where the planet with two moons and lightning is by texting the next door neighbor (who, from the look of it, probably lives about fifty miles away). Meanwhile, La Sirena has abandoned Elnor on the Romulan Reclamation Center. They won't get very far, though, as we learn via flashback that, after using a mind meld (finally! a certified Vulcan) to give Doctor Jurati a "Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2" style vision of what will happen if anyone ever builds another synthetic lifeform, Commodore Oh forced Doctor Jurati to consume a glowing Flintsone's vitamin which will allow the Romulans to track her anywhere she goes. A ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse ensues in which a) boyfriend Romulan is too stupid to realize that La Sirena knows he is tracking them b) Captain Rios is just stupid enough to think that Raffi is the one the Romulans are tracking and c) Doctor Jurati makes the odd decision that, while murdering her one time lover for the sake of Commodore Oh's cause was totally reasonable, letting these people she met three days ago get followed by a creepy Romulan boyband singer is a bridge too far. She poisons herself, and that somehow manages to neutralize the signal. Back on the Reclamation Center, Elnor decapitates a few more Tal Shi'ar/Zhat Vhash/let's just call them stormtroopers because they can't aim very well. Not while they are torturing Hugh by making him watch as they execute his favorite XBs. That would be too useful. But definitely after that. Lots of decapitations after that. Elnor fights Rizzo. Rizzo kills Hugh. Elnor activates a special beacon that, I guess, is going to call Seven-of-Nine to the rescue. If this all sounds a little to twee, it's because it is very twee. That is not why this episode is terrible.

This is the episode in which we are given our promised brief view into the post-Enterprise lives of William Thomas Riker and Deanna Troi, daughter-by-extension of the fifth house, heir (I assume) to the holy rings of Betazed. The dialog these two titans of Trek are given is among the most wooden written for a series characterized by its wooden dialog. That is not why this episode is terrible.

There are two reasons why this episode is terrible. They are, in ascending order of egregiousness:

While trying to help Soji come to terms with the fact that she's not "real" (where "real" somehow means "conceived via sex") and that "real is not necessarily better," Deanna reveals to us that, in addition to the daughter we see, she and Will once had a son named Thad. Thad died from a very rare disease that is usually treatable. "You just clone a something and something something poistronic matrix something. But, when Thad needed it, there were not positronic matrices, and no one was allowed to build any more. You see, Soji: real isn't always better." Her closing argument for why the ban on synthetic life forms was wrong is that it prevented sex-based lifeforms from using their positronic brains as testing grounds for medical technology. "I really wish my friend Data were still alive; if I'd used him as a lab rat, it might have saved my son." I do not understand how we are supposed to root for Jean-Luc's crusade if the best argument anyone can muster for the value of synthetic life is that it is useful for the fulfillment of sex-based life.

That is the episode's second most egregious offense.

The most egregious offense came in the opening credit sequence. As every week, cellos and flutes mingled with images of grapevines, Borg technology, and, I guess, dividing cells to remind us of what has been lost and what may yet be reclaimed. We see the list of the show's stars, and then, to much giddiness, the title card flashes "Special guest star: Jonathan Frakes." That is all. In case you skimmed my review to this point, Marina Sirtis was also in this episode. She gets billed in the closing credits. That is not acceptable. I don't care how few lines she has (as far as I can tell, she has at least as many as Frakes), Sirtis is one of the Interstellar Seven, the cast that defined Star Trek for my entire childhood. If she is on your show, she gets top billing. A few years ago, I stumbled into the opportunity to hear Sirtis speak live at Emeral City Comic Con. I say "stumbled" because, when I bought my ticket, LeVar Burton was scheduled to speak instead. He bowed out; Marina Sirtis stepped in. I am not proud to say that I was originally disappointed. She was the one of the Seven I was least interested in seeing live. My priorities were, of course, wrong, and I'm glad she came. She was an animated, hilarious, and very entertaining speaker. She loved us at least as much as we loved her. What little in-real-life reading I have done about celebrities since then has led me to believe that, of all of the Next Generation cast, she is the one you want to have a drink with. I bring all of this up by way of introducing the following paraphrased exchange:

Fan: "Can you say anything about what it was like to work with Sir Patrick Stewart?"

Sirtis: "You mean Old Baldy? Do you suppose Sir Old Baldy ever gets asked what it was like to work with me..." followed by a delightful story about working on the Next Generation that I cannot remember, because that's not the point.

Marina Sirtis endured seven years of being forced to wear that uniform only to have her contribution to the series summed up in the future timeline of All Good Things as "she died, which made Worf and Riker fight about who should have married her." Sure: I have heard the urban legend that Gates McFadden did a much better job advocating for her character and that is why Doctor Crusher is a more developed character (I have also heard that that is why Gates McFadden was temporarily fired to make way for Diane Muldaur). I don't care. Marina Sirtis shouldn't have had to advocate for her character. None of her male coworkers did, and they all got interesting story lines. Geordi got two separate story lines about how he principally pursues romantic relationships through stalking, and yet we still accept him as the galaxy's bestest friend sight unseen. And yet, in spite of all the indignities, Marina Sirtis persists as part of Star Trek's pantheon and deserves to be treated as such. Getting Marina Sirtis on a Star Trek episode should be a Big Deal. It is a Big Deal. There may be less patriarchal explanations for the way this week's credit's played. I will be the first to admit that I don't know how SAG contracts work. I would have an easier time swallowing that if the show hadn't already gone out of its way to point out that heroes "aren't in the habit of consulting lawyers before they do the right thing." Star Trek has made a lot of hay over the decades by convincing people that it is socially important in the real world. This week, that pill got just ever so slightly bigger and harder to swallow.

I'm not mad, Star Trek. I'm just disappointed. I am also mad.

Star Trek: Picard -- aside

 I actually wrote this before watching "Nepenthe," assuming that I could tack it on as the last two paragraphs of this week's post. It seemed unlikely that the feelings expressed below would change much over the course of one episode, however Triker-y. The feelings expressed below have not changed, however, my feelings about "Nepenthe" are strong enough to deserve their own post, so I am saying this now just to get it off my chest. Thoughts about "Nepenthe" will come once I have pulled myself back together:

When the dust settles and I am forced to realize that, in spite of all of the pretensious things that I have so far written on this blog, I actually did not enjoy Star Trek: Picard, I suspect that I will trace the moment at which my cautious optimism transformed into jaded disinterest to the moment when Jean-Luc bid adieu to the Irish Romulan family. Certainly the Irish Romulans were, like most of the characters in this series (and, if I am to be honest with myself, Star Trek writ large) hackneyed archetypes: former spies and assassins seeking refuge from their past life in idyllic seclusion, tending to the needs of another for whom they care deeply in an attempt to atone for a lifetime spent committing war crimes professionally. If one of them had declaimed "every time I think I'm out, they pull be back in," it would not have been out of place. For all that, however, they are the characters whose relationship with Jean-Luc felt the healthiest and the most genuine. There is no ham-handed flashback used to assert that these people have history with Jean-Luc. We simply see Irish Romulan straightening Jean-Luc's tie like a worried parent while her husband prepares breakfast for Jean-Luc's dog. This is to be contrasted with Elnor, who, even after an extensive pre-credit flashback of childhood hijinks and aborted fatherhood, feels the need to tell us that Jean-Luc's approbation "fills [him] with joy," for fear that we might forget that he has history with Jean-Luc. Irish Romulan's husband isn't not Alfred to Jean-Luc's Bruce Wayne, but they still feel comfortable enough to tell Jean-Luc when he is doing something stupid. This is to be contrasted with Captain Rios, who doesn't seem to be moving beyond the "I'm not in it for the revolution and I'm not in it for you" stage of the Han Solo development arc. The Irish Romulans don't appear to be as evil as Doctor Jurati. They do appear to be plot devices in the sense that they serve to give Jean-Luc easy access to Tal Shi'ar history and technology, but they also want things for themselves (for instance: life on a vineyard), or else they would have joined Jean-Luc as he tilted towards his cubical windmill. This is to be contrasted with Dahj and Soji, who simply do what they must to move the plot forward. The only other character with whom Jean-Luc has anything close to resembling a real relationship is Raffi and their relationship is decidedly not healthy. When we meet Raffi, we learn that, despite working as Admiral Picard's right hand during twilight of his career, he has not reached out to her even as her husband and son abandoned her and her life faded into a booze-filled haze of space vape. Last episode, when Jean-Luc needed a formal excuse to be granted access to the Romulan Reclamation Center, he dismissed out-of-hand Doctor Jurati's plan to use her scientific credentials, instead pressuring Raffi, who was still mourning the reaffirmation of her son's rejection, into badgering one of her few remaining friends in Starfleet to grant Jean-Luc temporary diplomatic credentials, in payment for which she was asked never to call said friend again. Jean-Luc applauded Raffi's sacrifice as Raffi slinked back into her bunk to finish of her fifth of space whiskey. A few months ago, a friend of mine asked me what defined Captain Picard as a character. I said that he was a philosopher king: he derives his authority from your realization that he is smarter, wiser, and more virtuous than you are. Apparently, if you strip away the philosopher king's access to formal structures of authority, he resorts to naked emotional manipulation to get you to do What Needs to be Done.

And so, here we are: the Next Generation, a show whose greatest strength was interplay amongst its rich ensemble, has been succeeded by a show in which an old man uses up everyone around him so that he can feel a little less guilty about that time one of his friends died in front of him. In the lead-up to Picard's premiere, there was much hand-wringing among the Trekerati about whether this would be our The Last Jedi. Would Trekkies be subjected to watching their indispensable hero laid low by the vagaries of age and the realization that the universe is too big and heavy to ride on his back alone? For the record: I enjoyed The Last Jedi. I enjoy it more every time I watch it. Luke Skywalker's response to the onset of nihilism may not have been responsible, but it evinced a very human frailty and fear, and, when it was necessary, he gave of himself one last time to help the next generation do better. Jean-Luc's response, to scream his relevance into the universe no matter the cost to those around him, is certainly another reaction to watching your life and legacy unravel around you, and maybe it's one that I should steel myself to witness. It would be easier to bear, I think, if those around him were at least aware of what was going on. Even a simple "he's Jean-Luc Picard, if he wants to go on one more mission, that's what we're going to do" would suffice, the difference being that Captain Beverly Picard, MD knew that there was a significant risk she was indulging the lunatic ravings of her ex-husband's Irumodic Syndrome, but she was willing to do it anyway because she loved him. They all -- Captain La Forge, Ret., Professor Data, Ambassador Worf, even Admiral Riker -- loved him. I'm not sure I believe that any of these people, Irish Romulans notwithstanding, love Jean-Luc, and I'm fairly certain that he doesn't love any of them. When I said I wanted a bleak Star Trek, I meant that I wanted a Star Trek in which a loyal and mutually devoted crew attempted to navigate a galaxy bent on twisting them into a reflection of its own cynicism. I did not want a Star Trek in which a group self-interested nihilists manipulated each other into having space adventures because they had nothing better to do. Before anyone accuses me of having unrealistic expectations, I would just like to point out that we are seven episodes into Picard. There are only twelve episodes of Firefly in existence. What I'm asking for is possible. The showrunners just had to want it.

Star Trek: Picard -- "The Impossible Box"

At the age of thirteen, I wanted to grow up to be JRR Tolkien. Not literally, of course.

Scratch that.

At the age of thirteen, I literally wanted to grow up to be JRR Tolkien. At the age of thirteen, I understood nothing about World War 1.

I didn't grow up to be JRR Tolkien, obviously. To compensate for this abject failure of perseverance I have, in my adulthood, taken up the art of Dungeon Mastering. At embarrassingly irregular intervals, I narrate a series of high fantasy hijinks that my friends try to make sense of through the lens of fictitious characters they have constructed according to the rules of Dungeons & Dragons. Thus I am given an excuse to build worlds as rich in politics, history, and mythology as I have the patience for without any of the pressure of having to be one of the world's most brilliant philologists. As George W. Bush once said: mission accomplished.

One of the great advantages of telling a story through a medium which requires the participation of other people, each with their own perspectives and agendas, is that you are not the one telling the story. You are all telling the story. While the Dungeon Master certainly bears the lion's share of the burden constructing the framework in which the story takes place (did I just domesticate lions?), the Dungeon Master has almost no control over who the principal characters are, what they want, or what they will do. This is terrifying, but it makes the story better. It is almost impossible to get a half dozen people to tacitly agree to do something nonsensical just because "that's what's supposed to happen." Those decisions have to be made explicitly and with multiple reminders that they make no sense. Star Trek: Picard could use some players right about now.

At long last, Jean-Luc and the crew of La Sirena have arrived at the Artifact formerly known as the Romulan Reclamation Center. They have arrived on a very important day: the day that Boyfriend Romulan has decided to extract the information he needs from Soji's subconscious and then murder her. Jean-Luc doesn't really do much to stop the murdering. He spends so much time admiring Hugh's good works disassimilating XBs that, by the time they get around to actually trying to locate Soji, she is deep into the process of being murdered. Thankfully, Romulan Boyfriend has decided to murder her by locking her in a room and filling it with poison gas released from a Rubik's cube. This leaves Soji plenty of time to activate her robot superpowers and punch her way to freedom through the floor. That is actually what happens. It's not clear that Romulan Boyfriend is upset by these developments. He still got his information (apparently, the android homeworld has two moons and lightning, which, I guess, is enough information to uniquely identify it among the tens of thousands of habitable or barely habitable worlds in known Star Trek space), and he might actually be in love with Soji (I am saying this both because his sister, who has now spent so much time openly as a Romulan I am forced to ask why she ever bothered going to the trouble of making herself look human, has insinuated it, and because "that's what's supposed to happen"). Hugh leads Jean-Luc and Soji to the top-secret room where the Borg Queen kept her magical interstellar transporter from back in the day when the Artifact was a functioning Borg cube. Elnor joins them and murders some Tal Shi'ar goons. Jean-Luc orders Hugh to beam him and Soji to the planet where, based on the teaser for next week, the Riker-Trois are homesteading, and Jean-Luc and Soji beam out alone while Hugh and Elnor cover their escape. I get why Hugh did not join them. He has his good works to attend to. Why is Elnor still on the artifact? They have a transporter, an instantaneous means of travel, with a range of 40,000 light years. "Covering their escape" is almost meaningless, because the entire Artifact is crawling with Tal Shi'ar and their surveillance equipment. Everyone knows who helped whom escape where. Elnor stays behind "because that's what's supposed to happen."

Most things that have furthered the plot of this show happen because they were supposed to. In reverse chronological order:

•  The crew of La Sirena did whatever you do with Bruce Maddux's body without bothering to ask the Emergency Medical Hologram about that time Doctor Jurati murdered him.
•  Doctor Jurati and Captain Rios had sex. I'm not kidding. 
•  Romulan Boyfriend decided to just assume that poison gas works on androids and conveniently forgot that, when threatened, the Soji sisters become very strong and very good at hitting things.
•  Bruce Maddux (whose name I intend to continue misspelling out of shear stubbornness) manufactured the Soji sisters out of "one of Data's neural pathways" and sent Soji to the Artifact "to learn the truth about the synth attack on Mars" (none of these things strike me as being terribly sequitur to anything). 
•  Seven-of-Nine decided to take a cruise around Vashti on the same day that La Sirena came under fire from a 22nd century Romulan Bird of Prey. 
•  Starfleet beamed Jean-Luc straight from the archives to his living room couch.
•  Dahj fled Chateau Picard barely five hours after fleeing to Chateau Picard.

These are the choices that have driven our plot so far.

Story arcs are hard. Worlds are big and conspiracies are complicated. Characters are harder. Each is their own little world of perspectives and wants, very few of which are likely reflect what the narrator says is actually happening or supposed to happen. While I have always loved Star Trek for its tales of interstellar politics moral quandaries, those quandaries were interpreted through characters I understood and trusted to behave in a self-consistent manner. This was easier in the framework of 1990s television. With the possible exception of Worf, the characters in the Next Generation did very little evolving over the course of seven years. In order to keep episodes perfectly interchangeable, it was important that characters begin each episode in the same emotional and intellectual space that they began the previous episode (how else do you explain Geordi's inability to learn the lessons of Booby Trap and Galaxy's Child in time to prevent the total disaster that was Aquiel?) Coming, as it does, in the age of Prestige Television, Picard cannot afford to be perfectly episodic, with episodes that can be viewed in any arbitrary order. Picard has to be presented to us as a handcrafted visual novel with a beginning, a middle, and an end that always must be thus. Circumstances and characters have to change, the more rapidly the better. One way to this effect is to create a world populated with characters who each want different things and see how they interact. Another way is to list out a series of beats designed to make a point and find the shortest path for your characters to take from point A to point C while still intersecting point B. The difference between the one and the other is whether anyone is standing up for the characters and pointing out to the narrator that "I don't think my character would do that." Some narrators are able to hold that advocacy in their own minds. Others get by with a little help from the players. Others choose to create a web of conspiracies so complicated that, they hope, their audience won't notice what is or isn't being done around them.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Stardust City Rag"

There's almost no point in talking about this episode. Imagine a heist movie. Better yet, imagine Ariel or Trash, the heist movie episodes of Firefly. You now know almost everything you need to know about this week's episode of Picard. How it was written. How it was shot (mastermind explains the plan to her dimwitted colleagues at the same time that we, the audience, watch those colleagues execute said plan). Just replace "the crew of the Serenity breaks into a highly secure hospital to gain access to its very advanced maguffinatron, only to have their plan nearly go to pieces with Jayne betrays them" with "the crew of La Sirena breaks into a highly disreputable space casino to gain access to Doctor Bruce Maddux, only to have their plan nearly go to pieces when Seven-of-Nine lies to Picard" and you're all caught up. We do learn some VERY IMPORTANT FACTS along the way:

• Raffi has a son from whom she became estranged when she became more focused on unraveling the conspiracy than burned Mars than on living life with her family.  Apparently "the Conclave of Eight" is a thing we are going to have to worry about.
• Seven-of-Nine is a member of the Fenris Rangers, a group of interstellar vigilantes trying to protect those in need in a post-Federation galaxy. You would think I would be more bullish on the idea that the lawless frontier is being guarded by a small band of Rangers. Unfortunately, the concept looks fair and feels foul.
• Doctor Jurati, who opened the episode watching very twee holovids in which she argues with Doctor Maddux about the virtues of replicated versus backed chocolate chip cookies (there may also be kissing), was so disturbed by whatever Commodore Oh told her that, shortly after helping the rest of the crew rescue Doctor Maddux from his space gangster captors, she murders him by turning off the "hemorrhagic reparative bibbledy-bonker" to which he is connected. She does this in full view of Captain Rios' Emergency Medical Holoself, so it is unclear how this is going to remain a mystery to the rest of the crew for more than fifteen minutes. Also EVIL. 
• There is a booming black market economy in Borg implants, harvested from largely unwilling disassimilated persons and used for... reasons.
• Patrick Stewart absolutely does not have a French accent in him.

And now the gang is off to The Artifact/Romulan Reclamation Center. Never stop never stopping.

I remain begrudgingly interested in the show. This episode was almost unrecognizable as Star Trek, possibly because it was instantly recognizable as Firefly, or even Star Wars. If Patrick Stewart had looked out from the bridge of La Sirena and intoned "Freecloud... you will never find a more wretched hive of scum, villainy, and personalized holographic advertisements" I would not have been offended. I, however, am starting to realize that I am less interested in the whacky space adventure we are currently than I am in learning how we got to a place where said whacky space adventure even makes sense. Freecloud -- a semi-lawless, late capitalist afterscape run by racketeers and human traffickers -- did not feel like a place that belonged in the Star Trek universe, and yet, it is. How? Has it always been like this on the frontier (just as Mars was always an industrial wasteland), or have things really gotten that bad? What did Seven-of-Nine mean that, after the Romulan evacuation ended "the Neutral Zone collapsed and the law broke down"? What does literally anyone else think about the Federation's isolationism and the fact of a Romulan refugee state? I cannot believe that neither the Vulcans nor the Klingons had anything to say about the demise of the Romulan Star Empire, and yet, we have yet to see anyone with pointy ears who isn't a Romulan, and Irish Romulan's Husband's off-hand mention of Worf has been this show's only concession to date that Klingons even exist. Also: whose idea was it to write episodes that were not about Irish Romulan and Her Husband?

In my first post, I worried that this show was going to descend into the same morass of needless conspiracy and subterfuge that swallowed Discovery. Picard is clearly oriented towards unmasking a massive conspiracy but, for the most part, they do seem to have abandoned the notion that they can or should try to fool the audience for long. Unfortunately, I cannot definitively say that they have eschewed Discovery's roughly sketched shocks in favor of highly detailed explanation. How did Jean-Luc end up on his sofa after the attack at the Starfleet archives? How did Seven-of-Nine end up at Vashti just in time to save La Sirena's keister at the end of the last episode? The heist-threatening twist in the middle of this episode is that Seven-of-Nine is only along for the ride so that she can murder the woman currently holding Doctor Maddux hostage.  Turns out, Maddux's captor once stripped one of Seven's ex-Borg friends down for parts. But Seven-of-Nine did not learn that Jean-Luc and company were even going to Freecloud until the second act of this episode. What was she doing at Vashti? Furthering the plot, of course.

I really was starting to like this show.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Absolute Candor"

For nearly 20 years, the community of people who like watching spaceships on television has been haunted by one unanswerable question: “when are they going to make more Firefly?” I like to think that, whenever cast members of Joss Whedon’s seemingly universally loved space western gather together, they compare notes on how long each has gone since last being asked that question. The figure can’t be high. At long last, we have our answer, and it is “now.” Nathan Fillion can finally meet Gina Torres for coffee without the geekosphere exploding with unjustified hope. Technically, the question was answered in November 2019 when Disney gave us The Mandalorian, which I highly encourage you to watch, especially if the last Star Wars you saw was inflicted upon you by J.J. Abrams; Mando will wash that taste right out of your mouth. However, whereas the strength of Firefly was always its ensemble, The Mandalorian relied a little to heavily on “a guy who looks like that guy you think is cool but can’t articulate why” and the physical manifestation of cuteness. Picard, it would seem, is going to recreate the special sauce with a little more fidelity. A ragtag starship crew composed of equal parts comic relief, philosophical gravitas, and distilled violence attempt to navigate their way through a universe in which all political authority is corrupt and shadowy conspiracies abound. Turns out you can’t take the sky from me.

In case you can’t tell, I really liked this episode.

This week’s story focused on Jean-Luc’s attempt to recruit the presumably final member of his highly specialized rescue team. The pre-credit flashback (told you so) takes place on the planet Vashti, a Romulan refugee camp, on the day of Mars’ burning. Admiral Picard is visiting Vashti to check in on an order of nuns, specifically Romulan assassin warrior nuns, who have been instrumental in aiding his and Raffi’s efforts. He doesn’t actually have much to say to the nuns. He does, however, have a great deal to say and do and share with Elnor, a ten-year-old boy left in the nuns’ keeping until they can find “a more suitable home.” They fence together. They read The Three Musketeers together. They do all kinds of things that one would never expect of Captain “I need to to stand between me and the children, Number One.” And then Raffi calls. Mars is burning. Jean-Luc has to leave. Now. Apparently, it is a long time before he will ever return.

Fourteen years, to be exact. When we return to 2399, Jean-Luc has ordered Captain Rios to make a brief stop-over at Vashti. Raffi thinks this is a bad idea. She is probably right. She is usually right. I am choosing to interpret her yellow uniform in last week’s flashback as an indication that she worked in security, at which she is unusually good. Jean-Luc wants to engage one of the warrior assassin nuns on his quest. Of course, it is not just a matter of payment. You do not choose the warrior assassin nuns. The warrior assassin nuns choose you. Ka like the wind.

Vashti is not the way Jean-Luc left it. Or, maybe, it is exactly the way Jean-Luc left it, only more so. After the slipshod nature of the Romulan evacuation, the Romulans are living in a world devoid of any governmental structure. Captain Rios informs us that a handful of warlords have decided to try setting up shop in the sector, but it’s not obvious that anyone is in charge. Vashti itself remains poor and extremely volatile. The bar near Jean-Luc’s beam down site prominently displays a sign reading “Romulans only” (we never actually see anyone who’s not a Romulan on Vashti, either in 2399 or in 2385, but Jean-Luc is not pleased and we may safely assume that the sign did not used to be there). For all that, the warrior assassin nuns are actually glad to see Jean-Luc. They seem to be the only ones who are. Space twitter lights up with posts when he is sighted and, as Raffi notes, “they are not love letters.” The head nun suggests Jean-Luc engage Elnor’s services. A “more suitable home” was never found and he has just completed his training. Jean-Luc tells Elnor his story. Elnor cares (“You told me about Data… he had an orange cat named Spot”). Jean-Luc does not. Jean-Luc wants a warrior assassin. Elnor wants Jean-Luc to say that he came back because he specifically needed Elnor. Unfortunately, Elnor doesn’t have the power to throw Jean-Luc’s ship halfway across the galaxy to drive the point home. This is the second time in as many weeks that we have been confronted with the callousness of nonagenarian Jean-Luc. Last week, Raffi told us that, after they were both drummed out of Starfleet, Jean-Luc completely lost touch with her. Apparently, a similar fate has befallen Elnor, one of the only five children Jean-Luc Picard has ever shown any affection for, hallucinatory children and grandchildren notwithstanding. This may be a part of a larger narrative questioning why we, as people, do the things we do, and if we ever actually do them for the right reasons. Raffi and Elnor were important to Jean-Luc when they were a part of a story Jean-Luc told about himself as the savior of Romulus. When that fell apart, they became reminders of his failure. It may also be part of a narrative about how, as we grow older, it becomes harder and harder to hold our lives together. In either case, I see this as a brutal, but welcome instance of reality intruding upon the Star Trek universe. Burn your idols. All of them.

Jean-Luc does a very stupid thing before leaving Vashti. Remember that bar with the “Romulans only” sign? He takes the sign down and tries to order a drink. This does not go well, and Jean-Luc is soon confronted by a gang of Romulans with swords (!) led by a former Romulan Senator. The Senator informs Jean-Luc that he wants neither his help nor his pity. He blames Jean-Luc for convincing the Romulans to doubt themselves, making them dependent on the Federation, and then yanking the rug out from under them at the last minute. To his credit, Jean-Luc denies the intent of which he is being accused of, but not the impact. Once more, reality brutally impinges upon the Star Trek universe. Charity is not an unalloyed good. It may not even be a good. It is, at best, a “better-than.” Charity is based upon a power dynamic, a model of savior and saved that reserves the ability to act almost exclusively for the former. In fifty years of replicating blankets, diverting killer asteroids, and stabilizing protonova suns, I cannot recall Star Trek ever acknowledging this reality. It is likely true that millions more Romulans would have died if Jean-Luc had not acted. It is also true that the way Jean-Luc acted deprived something vital from the Romulans who lived. This is not your parents’ Star Trek. This Star Trek has been paying attention.

The rest of the episode is fairly pro-forma. The Senator challenges Jean-Luc to a duel. Jean-Luc refuses to fight. The Senator is unimpressed. Elnor shows up to conveniently decapitate the Senator with a totally awesome mid-air twirl-and-attack. Apparently, the primary criterion for the warrior assassin nuns accepting a client is that the client’s cause be a lost cause. Commala come ko. A classic — I mean CLASSIC, as in Mark Lenard in The Balance of Terror classic — Romulan Bird of Prey (yes; that’s what they were called back then) shows up. There’s a firefight in which Captain Rios’ ship, the La Sirena, gets aid from a mysterious second ship. The pilot of said ship gets in trouble and has to beam aboard, and look! It’s Seven-of-Nine.

Our analogy is now complete. Seven-of-Nine and Elnor bring the highly competent violence of Zoe and Jayne. Jean-Luc brings the theological gravitas of Shepherd Book. Captain Rios is what Wash would have become if Wash had survived the experience of getting run through with a harpoon. Raffi embodies the space libertarianism of Mal. Doctor Jurati brings the scholastic professionalism and worldly naiveté of a Simon Tam and also she is definitely evil. Nothing concrete happened to further my case, but I am operating on a “guilty until proven innocent” model here. Burn the land and boil the sea. Engage.

Oh yeah: apparently “the Destroyer” is supposed to usher in Romulan Ragnarok, in which “all of the demons will break their bonds and answer the call of the Destroyer.” That was all fine and important, I guess. Everything in the Reclamation Center read like a romantic comedy if everyone involved in the romantic comedy were capable of acknowledging how creepy romantic comedies usually are.

Star Trek: Picard -- "The End is the Beginning"

Star Trek is big. It is too big for any one person to completely hold it in their mind (even if that one person is a Star Trek showrunner). It is definitely too big for any one person to love all of it simultaneously. It is probably too big to be about one thing. The Original Series was about proving that our conception of freedom is the correct conception of freedom, if only we could understand what it actually meant. The Federation was novel, or, at least, expanding, and surrounded on all sides by entities of nameless power and questionable intent. “Deep Space 9” was about learning that other people’s conceptions of freedom are probably also the correct conceptions of freedom. The Federation itself faced no real threat (until the Dominion War), but, at the borderlands, the intersection between the reality experienced by the luminaries of Earth and Vulcan and that experienced by everyone else was starting to come into question. “Voyager” was about a lot of deeply earnest people exploring the meaning of deep earnesty. “Enterprise” did not happen and I have no idea what you are talking about (see what I did there?). If I had to pick one thing that “The Next Generation,” my Star Trek, was about, “who gets to be a person?” is probably not a bad choice. The series begins and ends with Q threatening to wipe out humanity (and possibly all other carbon-based lifeforms) because we are either too barbaric or too stupid to be allowed to exist. The series is undergirded by a pervasive awe at the fact of Data and what that means in a universe permeated with machines that could easily pass the Turing test. Halfway through the final season of the series, the Enterprise — the actual ship — gives birth through the miracle of holodeck trains. Artificial life existed in the Original Series, but it was always a menace, threatening to consume everything that was born, not made. Thankfully, 1960s artificial intelligence was almost universally easily dispatched through exposure to the contradictions of being in the universe. Captain Kirk defended freedom against those who would take it from others. Captain Picard defended freedom against his own inclination to deny it to someone because they had been made, not born. It’s starting to look like he didn’t do nearly as good a job as we were initially led to believe. In the series “Picard” he is being given the chance to come to terms with that failure and to try to do better. Let’s do a recap, shall we?

Flashback to 2385, days (hours?) after the events of last week’s pre-credit flashback (I think this is going to be A Thing). Admiral Picard emerges from Starfleet Command where Lieutenant Commander Raffi, the woman from last week with the phaser and the “get the hell off my lawn you crazy SOB” relationship to Jean-Luc, is waiting for him. The revolt of the synthetics has destroyed the fleet meant to facilitate the evacuation of Romulus. Jean-Luc has just made his last, best effort to convince Starfleet to adopt a plan B which he and Raffi have cobbled together from a hodgpodge of decomissioned Starfleet vessels and an army of synthetic crewmembers, which Starfleet has just banned, to Jean-Luc’s utter bewilderment. “They say that [the attack on Mars] indicates a fatal coding flaw in the operating system,” Jean-Luc reports. There’s a lot going on there. One of the driving premises of this series is that Jean-Luc Picard has been fundamentally unable to move beyond Data’s final heroic sacrifice. I don’t recall Jean-Luc, Beverly, or Geordi ever referring to the vital forces driving Data’s positronic brain as an “operating system.” My phone has an operating system. I suppose one can argue that, insomuch as I am just a computer made of meat, I also have an operating system, but I doubt that any of my friends would feel comfortable saying that about me, especially after my death. I would expect Data to be afforded the same respect. I will reiterate that Jean-Luc and Raffi intended to make up for the loss of the rescue fleet’s crew by populating their ersatz fleet with synthetic crew members, none of whom, I assume, would be given the chance to volunteer. It does not bode well for any of us that the man who defended Data’s rights in “the Measure of a Man” thought that Starfleet’s use of synthetic labor was reasonable right up to, and presumably beyond the moment that they banned it. “Fortunately,” Starfleet is even further on the wrong side of the personhood question than Jean-Luc Picard. They have ordered all synthetic life forms disassembled and scuttled the Romulan rescue operation. In a final act of desperation, Jean-Luc demands that Starfleet accept either his plan or his resignation. They accept his resignation. A few minute later, “the CNC” (i.e. Admiral Can’t’Act) calls Raffi into Starfleet Command to be fired. All justice is political in the 24th century. Fun fact: the last time I heard the tearm “CNC” was in Star Trek VI. I think it refers to head of all Starfleet. Admiral Can’t’Act may yet go far in the annals of terrible admiralty.

In 2399, Jean-Luc Picard and Raffi are discussing the Dahj/Soji/Jat Vazh situation. Raffi seems to blame Jean-Luc for the premature end of her career, or maybe she blames him for the fact that he resigned and retired to a manor house on a vineyard, while she got fired and now lives in a trailer in the desert. The Federation is, indeed, a classless society; it’s just that “classless” is being used in a different sense than we all thought. Because of their divergent fortunes, Raffi wants nothing more to do with Jean-Luc, even though she loves a good Romulan conspiracy theory, having spent the last 14 years convinced that the Tal Shi’ar orchestrated the attack on Mars. She has no clear answer to the question “why would they attack a fleet designed expressly for the rescue of their own people?”

“That’s what happens in a cover-up; things disappear.”

I want to dismiss this as the post-fact schlock that it is, but the question is asked just too frequently and Jean-Luc dismisses it just too flippantly for the Tal Shi’ar not to have orchestrated the attack on Mars. All that remains is for the showrunners to tell us why.

Eventually, Raffi relents, agreeing to refer Jean-Luc — or “J-L” as she calls him; I will never get used to that — to a pilot who can aid him in his hunt for the missing sister robot.

Speaking of the missing sister robot*: we are learning things at the Romulan Reclamation Center. Specifically, we are learning that the Romulan Reclamation Center is run by the Reclamation Initiative and that the Reclamation Initiative is run by Hugh, Geordi’s second best friend turned resistance fighter under the Lore regime turned… what did happen to him after “Descent”? Whatever transpired, Hugh is now properly de-assimiliated. He is both a fully individuated being and a color indicative of circulation taking place in his capillaries. Only a few tastefully placed face rivets and a Frankensteinian network of scarring speak to his time as a member of the Borg collective. Hugh is very impressed by Soji’s work as a clinical psychiatrist for emerging post-Borg (ex-Borg, I guess; Hugh calls them “XBs”). Soji leverages Hugh’s good favor to get an interview with Ramda, the foremost scholar on Romulan mythology (because there’s only one Romulan mythology) before she was assimilated. Ramda is being kept in a wing of the center devoted to XB Romulans (XBRs?) who are having a particularly hard time adjusting back to individuality. We see Romulans with face rivets speaking to walls, frantically solving Rubik’s cubes, and, in Ramda’s case, playing with Romulan tarot cards. When Soji and Hugh arrive, Ramda is playing the tarot card with the door on it. Except it is not a door; it is a false door. “Traditional Romulan houses all have a false door at the front,” Soji explains, “to get in, you have to go around to the back.” Because of course they do. Exposition ensues. Soji is an anthroplogist who wants to build a “common narrative framework” to help guide Romulan Borg out of the collective. It’s fun to see Star Trek techno-babble cross the university quad into the humanities departments. Soji turns heads when she reveals that Ramda was one of the last batch of Romulans assimilated by this Borg cube before its “submatrix collapsed,” presumably severing it from the collective. According to the other Romulan Romulans and Hugh, Soji wasn’t supposed to know that. According to Soji, she doesn’t know why she does.

*If anyone wants to help me form a band named “Missing Sister Robot,” I am all in. I just need a guitarist, a bassist, a drummer, and a vocalist (you know: a band).

Back on Earth, Commodore Oh visits Doctor Jurati, the Daystrom Institute cyberneticist with whom Jean-Luc has been consulting.

In orbit around Earth, Picard meets Captain Rios (a lot of “R” names in this series), a cigar-smoking ex-Starfleet officer who is now a freelance captain whose only crewmember is a seven foot tall Wookiee… sorry, an emergency medical hologram that manifests as a projection of Captain Rios’ own self, speaking in an Irish accent rather than the Captain’s native Spanish accent. This is the part where my wife asks “didn’t Starfleet ban all synthetic life?” and I remind everyone that, even though “Doctor Soong was an unprecedented genius and no one has been able to reproduce what he did,” the USS Voyager’s emergency medical hologram was almost indistinguishable from a person within 12 hours of being left ever-on. The personhood question is messy. It probably has to be defined in the moment, and if you blink, you can find yourself on the wrong side of it. The fact that emergency medical holograms still exist after Voyager returned home and the Doctor integrated into polite society should have been the first warning that we were not learning the lessons we were supposed to be learning along the way.

Captain Rios agrees to take on Captain Picard as a client, but definitely not because Captain Picard is kind of a big deal. “I’ve already had a heroic captain in my life,” Rios tells his holographic alterna-self. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see are his brains and blood splattered on a bulkhead.” I have checked, and I am reasonably certain that Captain Rios is not Chief O’Brien with a fake beard on.

What happens next is interleaved with the end of Soji’s interview with Ramda.

Captain Picard is going to space, and Irish Romulan’s Husband has packed him a sack lunch complete with pâté, roquefort, and, oops, he dropped the apple. Just as he ducks to pick it up, a phaser bolt whizzes by where his head used to be. “Watch out: Jat Vazh!”

On the Reclamation Center, Ramda plays the tarot card with the twins on it, and she asks Soji, “are you this sister who lives, or are you the sister who dies?”

Irish Romulan and Her Husband kill a lot of Jat Vazh. I mean, a lot. It helps that there is a phaser pistol bolted to the underside of Jean-Luc’s side table.

The XBR solving the Rubik’s cube gets very excited.

Doctor Jurati shows up at Chateau Picard just in time to shoot the last Jat Vazh in the back and explain earnestly to Jean-Luc that Commodore Oh approached her and that “I told her everything; I didn’t know what else to do.”

Ramda pulls a disruptor from one of the many Romulan guards and points it at Soji.

Irish Romulan and Her Husband leave one of the Jat Vazh alive for interrogation. It goes about as well as you would expect. “You can’t protect her.” “We will find her.” And then, at the same time (whatever simultaneity means in a universe where superluminal spaceflight is possible), the Jat Vazh prisoner and Ramda say:

“She is the Destroyer”/ "You are the Destroyer"

The Jat Vazh prisoner bites down on his “cyanide” tooth and disintegrates. Don’t mess with Romulans.

Jean-Luc beams aboard Rios’ ship. Doctor Jurati comes with him. Raffi is also there. As I mentioned, she *loves* a good Romulan conspiracy, and has managed to figure out that their first stop should be Freecloud, where they are hoping to find Bruce Maddox, the man who probably made Soji and Dahj and, fun fact, is also the man who sued to have Data’s rights abolished in “Measure of a Man.” Raffi claims she doesn’t care about Soji or Doctor Maddux. She just wants to hitch a ride to Freecloud. By the way: she is very upset that Jean-Luc has accepted Doctor Jurati’s help without at least letting Raffi run a security check on her. Everyone takes their places aboardship. Captain Rios turns to Jean-Luc.

“Engage.”

At long last we are hurtling through space at many factors of the speed of light (I’m not going to fall into the trap of trying to define how the warp system works), bound for the new front lines in the never-ending fight against space fascism. Are we self-aware enough to avoid repeating the mistakes that got us here in the first place?

While evaluating Jean-Luc as a potential client, Captain Rios asks him “do you intend to break any laws?” to which Jean-Luc responds that he is “not in the habit of consulting lawyers before doing the right thing.” That is an odd thing to hear from the man voted “Most Likely to Uphold the Prime Directive” by the La Barre High School graduating class of 2325. Seriously, though, it is worth enumerating the absurd and questionably ethical things Jean-Luc has done in the name of the law. He ordered a little girl’s memories erased in “Pen Pals.” He ordered Ray Wise’s memories erased in “Who Watches the Watchers,” and, when that didn’t work, consented to getting shot in the chest with an arrow to prevent “the Cult of the Picard” from forming in one village on one continent for fear that it would ruin an entire planet’s civilization. In “Redemption: Part 1” Jean-Luc encouraged Worf to take a leave of absence to clear his father’s name, then scolded Worf for having the temerity to request access to the Federation communication records that were the only actual physical evidence of Mogh’s innocence. Which brings us to what, for me, has always been the most egregious example of the letter of the law trumping its spirit: Jean-Luc Picard consents to let an entire inhabited planet die rather than attempt an emergency evacuation of a pre-industrial civilization in “Homeward.” The parallels between what he didn’t do then and what he did do on Romulus are only just now sinking in for me. If Captain Picard never consulted lawyers before acting, it’s because he never needed to. Captain Picard was the foremost expert on Federation law in all of Starfleet. Casually disregarding legalistic mumbo jumbo was Captain Kirk’s schtick, a contrast almost explicitly drawn when Captain Picard chastises Ambassador Spock for practicing “cowboy diplomacy” in “Unification.” So long as the Federation was the last thing standing between the galaxy and the will to power, Jean-Luc was more than happy to stand atop the law, lecturing the masses about their first duty. Now that the mask has been torn off and we have discovered that the Federation has been debating personhood in bad faith this whole time, Jean-Luc needs to find a different justification for the way he has acted these past seventy years. Whether this justification will serve as a framework for making better choices or merely provide cover for restoring Starfleet to its elder glories remains to be seen.

PS I know that I am being part of The Problem by sustaining my weekly speculation regarding “who is evil.” Unfortunately, I can’t unsee "Discovery." The pivotal scene this week is, of course, the attack on Chateau Picard (which, I guess, was the only scene featuring Irish Romulan and Her Husband). It is very convenient that Her Husband has to duck to pick up an apple right as a Tal Shi’ar/Jat Vazh sniper is pulling the trigger. That being said, I can’t think of a good reason, if Irish Romulan and Her Husband are evil, that the Jat Vazh would want to fake at attack on the Chateau rather than just kill Jean-Luc. If not for the still poorly explained sequence of events leading from the roof of the Starfleet Archives to the couch in Jean-Luc’s living room, I would be tempted to say that the case for Irish Romulan’s moral turpitude is rapidly withering. That does not mean that I cannot think of any reason that the Jah Vazh would want to fake an attack on Chateau Picard. Recall that the conclusion of the attack is what introduces Doctor Jurati to Jean-Luc’s merry band of space pirates. She shows up just at the tail end of the fight and shoots the final Romulan with a disruptor rifle she finds… it’s not clear. She doesn’t read as someone who can handle herself in a fight. It is possible she picked up the rifle from one of the half dozen Romulans dispatched by Irish Romulan and Her Husband. It is also possible that the whole thing was a set-up designed to give Doctor Jurati cover to admit that she had spoken with Commodore Oh without prompting Jean-Luc to think too hard about that statement. So, after three weeks, the state of play is

Irish Romulan and Her Husband: “hopefully not evil”

Doctor Jurati: “definitely evil”

Oh yeah: Rizzo the Romulan is now physically on the Reclamation Center and looking like a Romulan again. Maybe the showrunners learned a little too much from "Discovery’s" shortcomings.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Maps and Legends"

“This is not your parents’ Star Trek.” That has been said before. It was a part of the official advertising campaign for Abrams Trek. A friend-of-a-friend once used it to describe Discovery. I do not usually respond positively to that formulation. I like my parents’ Star Trek, both literally, in that I still have a soft spot for the Original Series (though, admittedly, every time I have watched an episode since my 30th birthday, I have come away feeling… uncomfortable), and figuratively, in that I have taken “not your parents’ Star Trek” to mean “not a staid affair,” and I like it when Star Trek is a staid affair. I need a Starfleet captain to scold me every now and again. If I want laser guns and explosions, I will watch Star Wars. If I want a cosmic fungus providing the foundation for all space and time, I will watch Doctor Who. If I want a series of empty plot twists played exclusively for shock value, I will seriously reevaluate my life choices.

Star Trek: Picard is not your parents’ Star Trek in the sense that it has abandoned the central theme of Gene Roddenberry’s “wagon train to the stars.” This is not a hopeful depiction of a utopic future in which humans and aliens have come together to forge a more perfect union. This wagon train, like its historical counterpart, is carrying the vanguard of a decadent society that has decided to give slave labor a shot. On the frontier they have met a population of refugees representing all that remains of a lost power principally organized around a seemingly endless series of nested secret police forces. There is no hope here. Even our titular hero is resigned to the coming of an unnamed neurodegenerative disease (let’s be honest: it’s Irumodic Syndrome).

We start this week’s episode with a flashback to the burning of Mars. It is First Contact Day 2385 (so…. 14 years ago relative to the series). A group of construction workers at Utopia Planitia shipyards are lamenting the fact that they are the only ones not allowed to take the day off. Not quite. Their ample work force of synthetic life forms are also forced to work, when they’re not being forced to “sleep” in a cargo container between shifts, or serve as the butt-end jokes meant to illustrate the primacy of organic life forms. In other words, that thing that Guinan said would happen in the season two “Next Generation” episode “the Measure of a Man” — the mass-production of androids as slave labor for the Federation — actually did happen. Of course, Guinan projected this outcome if Data lost the court case to decide his rights. He actually won that case. Slavery came anyway. Fortunately, First Contact Day 2385 is the day that the synthetics have officially had enough. A synthetic named F-8 (that sound you hear is my best friend screaming at the screen that “ROBOTS CAN HAVE REAL NAMES, TOO!”), after watching his human overseers demonstrate their superior faculties by ordering the equivalent of a Tyson’s TV dinner from a machine that can make any food in recorded history, uses his workstation computer to deactivate Mars’ planetary shield just as a squadron of unmarked triangular starships arrives to begin bombarding the planet. There are also satellites with space lasers. F-8 takes, I’m going to call it a “plasma torch,” and murders his co-workers before blowing his own head off. Roll the title credits.

Back in 2399, Jean-Luc’s Romulan companions (whom I will call Irish Romulan and Her Husband until I can bother to learn their names; I guess I should confirm that they’re married; I get the impression that they are married), who are apparently and openly ex-Tal Shi’ar, are helping him try to puzzle out what happend to Dahj back at Starfleet Command (I should be more careful; she was killed at the Starfleet Archives; we’re going to visit Starfleet Command shortly). Irish Romulan tells Jean-Luc an interesting story about a Romulan police force worse than the Tal Shi’ar, the Jat Vazh (sp?), whose job it is to keep a Terrible Secret: Romulans hate artificial life forms and no one knows why. “Have you ever noticed,” she asks, “that our computers are limited to basic numerical functions? We do not research artificial intelligence.” She thinks that the Jat Vazh killed Dahj because… it’s not clear, but they hate artificial life forms.

Which is weird, because, in the third season “Next Generation” episode “the Defector,” Romulan Admiral Jarok looks Data straight in the eye and tells Data that he knows dozens of Romulan cyberneticists who would kill to be in the same room as Data. I love Star Trek. Really, I do. Its showrunners wouldn’t know continuity if it hit them with a Klingon pain stick. I guess Jean-Luc’s Romulan friends could be lying…?

Through ex-Tal Shi’ar jiggery-pokery, we are able to learn that Dahj was in contact with her twin sister Soji (I can’t tell you why, but I definitely walked out of the last episode under the impression that Dahj did not know she had a twin sister; she certainly didn’t *mention* one, which seems like an odd omission when trying to refute a kindly Starfleet Admiral’s assertion that you are an android) and that Soji is not on Earth. Recall that Soji is in the “Romulan Reclamation Center.” I now know what that is. Sort of. It is a Borg cube turned research facility run by the Free Romulan State where they are researching how to de-assimilate dormant Borg drones. A sign on the wall proudly proclaims that “This workplace has gone 5843 days without any assimilations.” Soji has started sleeping with that almost-but-not-quite-entirely-unattractive Romulan. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

Jean-Luc goes to Starfleet command to visit this series’ entrant in the “worst admiral ever” competition. I don’t think Cornwell has much to worry about. Don’t get me wrong: this admiral is terrible but there is no indication that she is a) sleeping with her subordinates or b) toying with the idea of casual genocide as a warfighting tactic. Jean-Luc wants his commission reinstated so that he can go to space and save Soji from the Jat Vazh. Unfortunately, Admiral Can’t’Act (this is the one way in which she might make the podium in the Bad Admiral Olympics) saw the part on space CNN where Jean-Luc shamed Starfleet for turning its back on androids and Romulans, and impolitely tells him to go… away (that’s not actually what she says). The conversation is pretty boilerplate for things that happen in a Starfleet Admiral’s office, except for the notable exchange where Admiral Can’t’Act informs Jean-Luc that, if Starfleet hadn’t pulled its support for the Romulan rescue operation (an apparent side-effect of the synthetic revolt on Mars; I guess Jean-Luc just saved the Romulans himself? With space pirates?), “14 species would have left the Federation.”

“Starfleet doesn’t get to decide which species live and die,” says Jean-Luc.

“Yes we do.”

So…. yeah.

At some point after this, Admiral Can’t’Act puts in a call to her good friend, Commodore Oh, a Vulcan who appears to be in charge of Starfleet Intelligence and/or Section 31, informing her that “the hermit of La Barre” (I actually love this) is afoot with conspiracy theories about Romulan covert ops taking place on Earth. Commodore Oh promises to look into it. “Looking into it” means chiding her subordinate, Lieutenant Rizzo, for making such a mess of the attempt to capture Dahj at the Archives and promising that she herself will “take care of Picard” if things get out of hand.

It gets weirder when Lieutnant Rizzo, apparently a human, holographically visits Romulan McDreamy-Ears at the reclamation center to tell him to speed up his “work” on Soji (“Have you managed to learn where its nest is?”). The cute Romulan remarks denigratingly on Lieutenant Rizzo’s surgically rounded ears and assures his older sister that he has the situation under control. It is left ambiguous whether or not Commodore Oh knows she is being played by… that Tal Shi’ar? The Jat Vazh? Am I spelling any of these words correctly?

In the final act of the episode, Jean-Luc specifically goes out of his way to crush all of our most fan service-saturated dreams by informing Irish Romulan’s Husband that he doesn’t want to ask Riker, Worf, or Geordi for help, because they might get themselves killed out of loyalty to him, and he “can’t go through that again,” not after Data (poor Jack Crusher). Instead, Jean-Luc goes to visit a trailer in a desert where I swear Captain Kirk once fought the Gorn and wherein now lives someone we’ve never met, who immediately pulls a phaser rifle and tells Jean-Luc to turn around and go home.  As he’s leaving, Jean-Luc mutters under his breath about “Romulan covert assassins operating on Earth.”

“Is that the ’83?” his new old friend, Raffi, asks of the wine bottle casually dangling from Jean-Luc’s upraised hand.

Jean-Luc nods and walks back towards the trailer. Think Arnold and Carl Wethers’ first meeting in “Predator.”

This episode was mostly exposition and connective tissue. In our post-Abrams Trek, post-Discovery world, that is high praise. I will gladly accept any Star Trek that feels confident enough to go more than seven minutes between explosions without fear of its audience getting bored. We clearly have not gotten beyond the over racialization that Star Trek has leaned on so heavily over the past 50 years of its world building. All Ferengi are venture capitalists. All Klingons love “Fight Club.” All Cardassians are mid-level bureaucrats. All Romulans are spies. My eyes rolled more than a little when I first learned that there was something worse and more secretive than the Tal Shi’ar.  Maybe that is the point, though. If I am allowed to be that guy who read a book once and is convinced that only that book matters: in “Origins of Totalitarianism,” Arendt posits that one of the methods by which Nazi social control functioned was by creating redundant bureaucracies with nominally overlapping responsibilities whose real responsibility was to spy on each other and prevent anyone from knowing where power actually lies. My first year college debate partner once posited to me that, in the same way that the Klingons are an allegory for the Soviets, the Romulans are an allegory for the Nazis (this sentence makes more sense in the context of the Original Series and its movie spin-offs than in literally any other Star Trek; there is very little about modern Klingons that is Soviet). If he was correct, then we should expect there to be at least a half-dozen more secret police forces on top of, beneath, and adjacent to the Tal Shi’ar and the Jat Vazh. Every Romulan is a spy, just on each other, rather than the Federation (though they all do seem to be spying on the Federation, too).

Abrams Trek (am I really about to say something positive about Abrams Trek?) gave Star Trek the opportunity to talk about what the 24th century looks like as things start falling part. Romulus and Remus were destroyed and the galaxy has been saddled with an enormous population of refugees who have never not lived in a totalitarian society. This is the limit of the ideal that we, and Jean-Luc Picard, thought that the Federation represented. Does the primacy of diplomacy, empathy, and attempted mutual understanding extend to space Nazis? Starfleet Command does not believe that it does. Jean-Luc Picard disagrees. What do the space Nazis think? It is not a good sign that their government appears very keen on dissecting a Borg cube.

Meanwhile, it appears that the Federation has also found ways to undermine the stories it tells about itself, without the need to refer to anyone else at all. I’ve already mentioned their dalliance with the idea of utilizing slave labor. I would like to dwell for a minute on the Tyson’s TV dinner that came out of that replicator minutes before F-8 freed Mars. It really did look that disgusting, and if you listen closely, you can hear the organic workforce complaining about “the amino acid matrix” use to supply the Utopia Planitia replicators. For the past 50 years, we have been presented the Federation as an exemplar of a post scarcity society, perfectly blending liberal values and Marxist concern with human welfare. There is no money. There is no need for money. No one has a job they don’t want. In the season 1 “Next Generation” finale, Captain Picard explains to an early 21st century American that Data accidentally brought out of hibernation that every citizen of the Federation is free to devote herself to “personal betterment” and the pursuit of passions. Mars is never more than 2.5 AU from the capital of the Federation. I don’t think I expected it to be fully terraformed. I did not expect it to be modeled after a 20th century industrial park, complete with lousy work-life balance and sub-standard food. Maybe this is a betrayal of Gene Roddenberry’s original vision of the future. Maybe that original vision has only ever been presented to us through the eyes of characters who have a vested interest in The Way Things Are. I hate to give credence to those who claim that DS9 is the best Star Trek, but Lieutenant Commander Eddington’s rant to Sisko about the arrogance of the Federation at the end of “For the Cause” is one of my favorite moments in all of Star Trek. “You’re worse than the Borg,” Eddingon says. “You assimilate people, and they don’t even know it.” After the assimiliation comes the exploitation. This is not our parents’ Star Trek. I’m starting to think that it is the Star Trek we deserve, though. Especially this week. The Federation is awful.

PS I have, to this point, completely ignored the question of whether or not the Irish Romulan and Her Husband are evil. The case is less strong that it was last week. If they were evil, I would expect the “Jat Vash” to be a cleverly constructed lie meant to distract Jean-Luc from whatever the Tal Shi’ar is up to, and I think I have managed to convince myself that it is reasonable for the Romulans to have at least two secret police forces. That being said, when Commodore Oh is dressing down Rizzo the Romulan, she goes out of her way to say “Admiral Can’t’Act just told me that Jean-Luc Picard paid her a visit and spoke the name of the Jat Vash openly, except that she didn’t say that last part, but I know it.” Commodore Oh does not divulge her sources, and, as far as I know, only Admiral Can’t’Act, the Irish Romulan, and Her Husband know that Jean-Luc is thinking about the Jat Vash. Granted, electronic surveillance is a thing. Irish Romulan and Her Husband turning out to be evil is probably a red line for me. Yes, every Romulan is a spy, but that can’t literally be true. *Every* human is not a plucky community builder. I am, at least, grateful that this is the only “shadowy figure” deception we are currently dealing with. Within ten minutes of introducing them, the writers showed us that Commodore Oh and Lieutenant Rizzo are not to be trusted (and did we ever really trust Romulan Commander Hot Pants?). Clearly, the showrunners learned something from the disaster that was Lieutenant Ash “Mom told me I don’t have to do the Klingon stuff” Tyler (See? I’ve clearly lost my touch). Here’s hoping that the “lie within a lie leading to a trap” doesn’t go too deep.

Star Trek: Picard -- "Remembrance" (because the internet is for snark and spoilers)

Let’s try this again, shall we?

Obviously, I failed in my attempt to successfully blog even one season of “Star Trek: Discovery.” Anger is a potent fuel, but there were only so many ways to refer to Lieutenant Ash “prefers his racht at least half-dead” Tyler, and, at the point where he was outed as a Klingon sleeper, what was the point? Suffice it to say: I did not enjoy the experience of watching Discovery season 1 and have yet to even attempt to watch season 2. I will try to give a glib explanation later (by way of explaining my nascent skepticism of “Star Trek: Picard”). For now, let me just point out that, in the penultimate episode of Discovery season 1, the war between the Federation and the Klingons has gone so lopsidedly that the front lines are within a few parsecs of Earth. Cosmically speaking, a parsec is not that far. This strains my credulity because, while Captain Kirk’s Federation certainly doesn’t like the Klingon Empire (and vice-versa), nothing in the original series gives us any indication that, barely ten years prior, the Federation almost ceased to exist due to a war with the Klingons. That is a pretty dire reality to just sweep under the rug. Furthermore, the Klingons’ reason for not just finishing the Federation off is… strained.  We see no evidence of any arcane ritual indicating that the soul of Kahless was reborn into a Starfleet officer (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you really should consider watching “Babylon 5”). The Federation seeds Q’onos’ mantle with planet-killing explosives and then gives the trigger mechanism to Klingon revolutionaries who negotiate the formation of Klingon unity government somehow less bent on wiping out the Federation that, as I mentioned, just threatened to destroy Q’onos. Needless to say, my respect for people whose favorite Star Trek is “Voyager” went up considerably after watching “Discovery.”

And so we come to “Picard.” I have always been skeptical of the idea of the idea of “Star Trek: Picard.” Creators coming back to long dormant projects and completely missing the mark is, after all, a thing that happens in science fiction all (Star Wars) the (Foundation) time (Handmaid’s Tale — I’m sorry; “Testaments” wasn’t great). That being said, I am also human, and when I saw the trailer featuring a sextegenarian Will Riker yelling at his kid to use her inside voice, I decided to adopt an attitude of cautious optimism, the alternative being too terrible for me to contemplate.

There were actually other reasons to be optimistic, as well. It did not take long for us to learn from the trailers that the Borg (or remnants thereof; I distinctly remember Captain Janeway killing all of the Borg upon her triumphant return to the Alpha Quadrant) and Seven-of-Nine were going to play central roles in this series. I was originally skeptical of these choices. In my opinion, the “Next Generation” became a little too obsessed with the Borg in its later years (the last Borg-themed story I actually enjoyed was “I, Borg;” “Descent” and “First Contact” felt too much like action movies, which is to say that they felt too much like Star Wars for me) and I have always been a “Voyager” skeptic. However, after reading the reactions at tomandlorenzo.com, I came to realize that these were probably necessary choices. The two defining traumas* of Captain Picard’s career are that a) he is one of only a few dozen people, presumably in the galaxy, to survive the Borg assimilation process and that b) for seven years, a demigod selected him as its personal chew toy (I know fanservice is a problem, but it will be really hard to swallow a post-Starfleet Picard series if Whoopi Goldberg and John de Lancie don’t either appear or get explained away). Seven-of-Nine is one of the other few survivors of Borg assimilation. It beggars belief that she and Picard don’t attend weekly meetings of some kind together. So: if I want a series that thoughtfully treats the aftermath of everything I know and love as “Star Trek,” then I’m probably going to have to swallow some Borg-themed stories. As my wife said: let’s rip this bandaid off.

*Quick aside: the fact that getting tortured by David Warner is a distant third indicates just how terrible Jean-Luc Picard’s life actually was.

The first episode takes place about two decades after the events of “Star Trek: Nemesis” (the only thing about which you need to know is that Data directly sacrifices his life to save Picard specifically and the Enterprise more generally). A lot has happened in that time. The Romulan sun has exploded (which events lead to the creation of the execrable alternate timeline depicted in the even more execrable Abrams Trek movies)*. Captain Picard has rallied Starfleet to go rescue the Romulan population (a measly 900 million spread over Romulus and Remus; apparently 24th century birth control works). A population of androids has gone rogue, “deactivated Mars’ planetary defense grid” (whatever that means), and attacked Utopia Planitia such that “Mars is still burning to this day” (whatever THAT means). As of this writing, I have no idea how we got from “Doctor Soong was an unprecedented genius; no one has ever been able to create another artificial intelligence” to “there are enough androids to SET MARS ON FIRE.” Starfleet has banned the research into and production of artificial life. Captain (Admiral?) Picard has resigned in protest of said decision. He is now living out his dotage on the family winery with two pointy eared companions whom, I am embarrassed to say, it took me until the second commercial break to identify as Romulans, rather than Vulcans.

*Another quick aside: I guess ecological catastrophe is the fate of all major astro-political rivals to the Federation. The events ultimately leading to the Federation-Klingon alliance began when the Klingon moon Praxis exploded, promising to render Q’onos’ air unbreathable within a generation. The Romulan sun goes supernova without warning (that’s not how it happens). I know that only Vulcans and Bajorans have religion in the 24th century, but apparently there is a God and He wants you to JOIN STARFLEET.

Meanwhile, in Boston, a Very Special Girl (I’m sorry, but her role in this story is a little Jenna Louise Coleman vis-a-vis Matt Smith; her actual name is Dahj) is celebrating with her boyfriend that she was just accepted as a research fellow by the Daystrom Institute. Four people in black jumpsuits and motorcycle helmets beam into her apartment, murder her boyfriend, and start yelling at her about “activation” and “the rest of you.” She “activates,” discovers that, much like Neo, she knows Kung Fu, and murders the people in black. She “deactivates,” starts crying over her boyfriend’s body, and then closes her eyes and sees a vision of Jean-Luc Picard. Don’t worry, Dahj, that last part happens to me all the time.

Dahj comes to Chateau Picard in search of refuge. She insists she feels safe around Jean-Luc, and he’s willing to go with that, even though he has no memory of ever meeting her. She stays the night, but is gone the next morning. On a dream-inspired hunch, Jean-Luc visits the Quantum Archives of his personal affects at Starfleet Command (honestly, I expect a more responsible use of the word “quantum” from Star Trek; though, I guess the Defiant did fire “quantum torpedos”…) and discovers that, thirty years prior (so, about ten years before Nemesis?) Data painted a picture of Dahj, which he entitled “Daughter” (no, I don’t think she’s Lal; that would be terrible). Dahj finds Jean-Luc at Starfleet Command. Jean-Luc explains to her that he thinks she is a “synthetic” (what I used to know as an “android”) even though she was obviously bleeding when he first met her. She denies it. More people in motorcycle helmets show up. We learn that they (or, at least two of them) are Romulans. Dahj murders them all, but the last one blows her up with an overloading phaser rifle. The blast hurls Jean-Luc to the pavement. He wakes up on his couch in La Barre, his Romulan companions hovering over him in deep concern (this will be important later).

Jean-Luc visits the Daystrom institute and learns that it is theoretically possible to make androids out of flesh and blood (because what you really want is an artificial intelligence that can still be killed by the Spanish Flu), but only in pairs, which means….there is another. Cut to a “Romulan Reclamation Center” (nope; don’t know what that means, either), where we meet a woman who looks exactly like the late great Dahj but is named Soji and is being hit on by a Romulan who is just cute enough that you wish he was cuter. As they flirt, the camera pulls away and we see that the “Romulan Reclamation Center” is really a partially assembled Borg Cube (which doesn’t seem possible, given that all of the Borg cubes that ever made it to the Alpha quadrant got blown up).

This is all fine. It is actually almost intriguing. There’s a lot of subtext which I glossed over indicating that the Federation has had second thoughts about its decision to rescue the Romulans from their rapidly dying homeworld. I support that decision. Late stage DS9 seriously started to question the Federation's devotion to its professed ideals (or, even, whether their ideals were worth devotion in the first place), and, given the way that the Western liberal consensus has unfolded (unraveled?) over the quarter century since the “Next Generation” went off the air, I think it was good decision to commit to exploring that, assuming that is the showrunners’ plan.

What is less fine is the puzzle-box nature of the story as presented thus far. A mysterious girl shows up at Chateau Picard in need of help, just as Data foretold in one of his paintings. There are two of them because there physically have to be (because of *course* there have to be). Don’t get me wrong, “Clues,” “Cause and Effect,” and “Remember Me” were all great episodes, but if that’s all the “Next Generation” had ever amounted to, I doubt we would be having this conversation.

I am probably overreacting. Except…

It is never adequately explained why Dahj left Chateau Picard in the middle of the night. There’s a weird scene in which she contacts her mother via space Skype and says that she felt it was “too dangerous” for Jean-Luc for her to stay there (her mother, eerily, responds “find Picard”). It seemed to me that Dahj was eliding something. One of Jean-Luc’s Romulan companions says that she looked over the feed from the Chateau’s security cameras and could find no evidence of Dahj leaving. That also doesn’t seem right. Recall, this is the world of “Computer, locate Commander Riker.” Which brings us to the aftermath of the attack at Starfleet Command. The phaser rifle blows up, Jean-Luc is hurled to the ground, and we cut to his living room in La Barre where his Romulan companions inform him that the official story is that he was alone on the roof (the attack was on a rooftop) and no one knows what happened. Jean-Luc immediately assumes that Dahj, being a synthetic, must have a cloaking device that gets triggered whenever she is in danger but that…. makes no sense. What does make sense is that Jean-Luc’s Romulan companions are somehow “in on it” (recall that the motorcycle helmet wearing assailants appear to be Romulan-affiliated). Dahj left Chateau Picard because she did not feel safe, either implicitly or because Jean-Luc’s companions tried to attack her. Jean-Luc’s companions know exactly what happened at Starfleet Command and are trying to put Jean-Luc off the scent. Data is the one who reset the ship’s chronometer and that is why Doctor Crusher’s pink moss is so advanced.

I disliked “Discovery” for many reasons. If I had to distill them all down into one sentence, though, it would be that I felt the show’s creative team was writing towards the twists. Character development and building a textured world were never as important as revealing a) that Captain Lorca was from the Mirror Universe b) that Ash Tyler *always* ate live racht and c) that the Mirror Universe was run by Emperor Michelle Yeoh who was also a cannibal. As long as those revelations landed with the appropriate emotional impact, nothing else mattered. Unfortunately, since we didn’t care about or necessarily respect the characters experiencing those revelations, they didn’t land with any emotional impact. Also, those revelations were stupid. I will keep watching “Picard.” I will try to remain cautiously optimistic, but I am worried that we are being led into yet another web of deception and conspiracy about which I ultimately do not care. As of this writing, I still want to be proven wrong.