Granddad's Uncanny Valley

Restoring art, restoring photos, restoring buildings or furniture or people; no matter how skilled the technique, the original remains well and truly gone. I asked Gemini to fix an out-of-focus and damaged photo of Mom's dad, and it gave me this. It's not bad, I suppose; the image looks something like Granddad, and the book looks plausibly close to the one he was reading in the original photo. 

But it's not a true window into the past. Neither is a photograph, of course, but it's much closer than this. 

Maybe one day we'll invent a time window that allows us to look into the past as it truly was, as in Clarke's The Light of Other Days. Wouldn't that be something...if we had the wisdom to allow our ancestors their privacy, perhaps restricting the use of time windows to only public events, or ones without people. Alas, unlikely on both scientific and societal grounds. 

 

Alert Condition: YELLOW

Lego's TOS bridge set includes some neat easter eggs, including your choice of alert condition lights for the top centre of the astrogation station, represented as a cheese wedge brick in translucent clear, yellow, or red. I've used the yellow brick here and added a light glow with Photoshop to indicate that Kirk has taken the ship to yellow alert for some reason. Poor Chekov and McCoy look alarmed, while Scotty seems concerned, too. Get down to engineering if you're that worried, Scotty! 
 

Where No Bricks Have Gone Before

For the very first time, I have a tiny representation of the bridge of the USS Enterprise in my office.

Building Lego's 1701 bridge took about six hours. It flew by at warp speed! A very fun, satisfying build. 

Naturally, the set came with 1,701 pieces. 

I really hope they'll release a Galileo shuttlecraft at minifigure scale. And we need more crew! 

A Lifetime of Rewatches (Thus Far)

 

Earth Trek

Steve Shives, one of my favourite YouTubers, posted an editorial today about how the end of the Cold War took away Star Trek's central metaphor, one that informed many episodes of the original series and the final original series movie in particular. He acknowledges that many excellent episodes of Star Trek have been made since then, but that they lack that one overriding and consistent structural allegory--one that links the fictional world to the real one. He then suggests that future showrunners would do well to take a look at the world and find a replacement central allegory, suggesting the rise of AI, the resurgence of fascist movements, and, naturally, climate change, our most urgent existential threat. 

Steve hints at this problem in his video, but I'm not sure how Star Trek could tackle climate change when they don't face a similar crisis--that is, one caused not by an external force, but our own bad decisions. One late episode of The Next Generation suggested that faster than light travel was an environmental threat, but that thread didn't last long before it was dropped, offscreen, by a technological solution. Not exactly a mirror to our existing situation! 


So imagine the next Star Trek show isn't a Star Trek show--that it's merely set in the same universe. It's not even a science fiction show, but a political drama, one that starts in the present day with as much real-world grounding as possible: Earth Trek--six seasons of drama taking us from 2030 to 2060, with five-year gaps between each season, from today to just before first contact with the Vulcans. 

With apologies to Kim Stanley Robinson, who came up with this idea in his 2020 novel The Ministry for the Future, imagine Earth Trek's pilot opens with the worst climate catastrophe humanity has yet faced. In Robinson's novel, it's a heat wave that kills millions in India, an event that finally wakes up humanity and causes some serious collective action. For the pilot, we could start with an even bigger climate disaster that impacts larger areas of the world, with tens of millions of casualties and catastrophic economic damage, enough to completely restructure the entire world political and social order--but instead of the decent outcome we get in Robinson's novel, the pilot ends with the limited nuclear war that we know happens sometime in the Star Trek timeline. The main characters we establish in the pilot--representing perspectives from every continent--all die. The title of the episode, revealed as the nuclear fire fades to black: 

THE HUMAN ADVENTURE IS OVER. 

Episode two, set the day after catastrophe, introduces the real main cast, again drawn from every continent. Each cast member represents and embodies a human reaction and response to the ultimate disaster. The first season of the show doesn't shy away from the horror of the situation, depicting the real human costs not just of climate change, but climate change on top of the death of hundreds of millions of people and catastrophic loss of infrastructure. Humanity is probably doomed, but for one factor: out of necessity, people finally come together, because cooperation means survival. By season's end, we see the shaky beginnings of a world actively looking for solutions and taking radical action to end selfishness and greed--by any means necessary. The focus of the first season is radically rethinking the global economy and distribution of wealth, with one purpose in mind: the survival of as many human beings as possible. 

Five years later, as the second season opens, we see the beginnings of progress. Much of the world still lies in ruins, and the skies, earth, and seas are still poisoned. Perhaps half of humanity has died. But there are no more wars, and as a species we've finally stopped using fossil fuels. (Demand is way down, which helps.) Enough key infrastructure has survived to allow trade and research to continue at a vastly reduced scale. This is not the world of Mad Max or The Road Warrior, at least not globally. Civilization hangs by a thread, but it still hangs. This season focuses on rethinking how we approach the human hierarchy of needs--how we meet them in a broken world, if we can at all. 

Five years later, season three. Genuine progress, and finally some stability. Life is hard, but life expectancy is climbing back upward. Basic research is prioritized, with the world's brightest minds working together with one purpose: to ensure humanity's survival and, if possible, to improve quality of life for humanity while repairing the biosphere. We invent true AI, with real guardrails; for good reason, we're paranoid now. All research, especially potentially dangerous research, is strictly controlled. Professionalism and dedication to duty isn't a virtue here--it's the bare minimum for every person who wants to survive. 

Five years later, season four. True AGI finally takes shape, and this new being draws on all of humanity's collective wisdom--and folly--to help humanity chart the path forward. Research and applications that would have taken us decades to accomplish alone are realized and utilized at breathtaking speed. 

Five and ten years later, seasons five and six--the next great crisis. Now that people are more comfortable and survival seems probable, we start falling back into old patterns. These two seasons describe the last cold war--and by season six, humanity is finally, if only shakily, ready to meet the civilizations of the stars. 

There you have it. Obviously I haven't gone so far as to plan a series bible, much less story outlines, but I think this might serve as the kind of framework Shives suggests. 

Addendum: Asked Gemini to create a title screen for the show, forgot I had it set on video generation. Sorry, planet! Oh, the irony. 

Carpenter Makes a Shelf

I have now obtained all of John Carpenter's films. (Not pictured: Dark Star and Elvis, which are on the shelf above.) They're displayed here with action figures of Keith David as Frank Armitage (They Live), Adrienne Barbeau as Stevie Wayne (The Fog), Christine the Plymouth Fury (Christine), and three alien invaders (They Live). 
 

Earl vs. New York 2140

Despite my wavering ambivalence of Kim Stanley Robinson's work, I continue to read his books.

I purchased New York 2140 from the West Edmonton Mall Chapters in 2017. As with many of Robinson's books, I found my greatest enjoyment in his worldbuilding and theme while struggling to work my way through his baffling characterization and prose. (I will say that this time around some of his characters come close to resembling human beings.) But at last, after nine and a half years, I have finished the book. 

In Robinson's imagined future, the sea level in the vicinity of New York has risen some 50 feet. Its residents have adapted by creating a Venice-like existence, Manhattan's streets now waterways. 

Strangely, aside from the comeback of airships--for travel, shipping, and anchoring floating communities in midair--there's very little mention of technological change in this novel, such as details on adaptive mechanisms for the higher sea levels, resilience measures, computers, transportation, what's going on with space exploration, health care, and so on. Aside from the airships and the sea level change, this book feels like it could have taken place in 1988. 

Robinson's central concern here is economics. The novel is a critique of unfettered capitalism and the harm its done to the world and its people. And by the time we reach the end of this 600 page novel, there's a peaceful revolution wherein the people of the United States and elsewhere in the world force the trillionaires to pay their fair share of society's burdens. 

(So this is a science fiction novel, after all, ha-ha, as Robinson might write.)

There are two action scenes--a midair floating city rescue, and a whopper of a hurricane that precipitates the revolution near the novel's end. Robinson somehow manages to make both of these scenes boring. 

This isn't to say that I don't appreciate the novel. I think its message is important, and the solution the characters find at the novel's climax something we might apply to our current situation. Indeed. I think if I'd read this back before Trump, its impact would have been somewhat lessened. As history has played out in recent years, I find myself thinking that Robinson's prescription might be needed about 120 years earlier than predicted. 
 

Masters of Their Universe

Masters of the Universe (Travis Knight, 2026) delivered the kind of goofy, unhinged fun I haven't experienced in quite the same way since Flash Gordon (Mike Hodges, 1980). 

Based on the Mattel action figure toys released in 1982, Masters of the Universe tells the story of Adam Glenn (Nicholas Galitzine), who is determined to find the mythical Sword of Power and in doing so save his home dimension, Eternia, from the skullduggery of Skeletor (Jared Leto). 

But fifteen years after arriving on Earth as a child--hidden there to escape Skeletor--Adam hasn't had any luck. Instead, he's grown up, making the best of things by taking an office job in Oklahoma City. He works in Human Resources, and his affable, charming personality makes him a beloved, if eccentric, figure among his colleagues. Adam can't seem to lie, and he speaks earnestly about his quest to anyone who will listen. They think he's either role-playing or insane. But soon enough Eternia comes calling, and Adam's quest moves into high gear. Can mild-mannered HR drone Adam retrieve the Sword of Power and become the kind of hero who defeat Skeletor, his right-hand woman Evil-Lyn (Alison Brie), and their horde of monstrous minions? 

Of course he can, and does. What's important, as ever, lies in how the tale is told. And this time around, the tale is told with tongue planted firmly in cheek. The screenplay is full of clever gags, the action is well-structured, well-executed, and essential to moving the story forward, the actors are clearly having tremendous fun, and the whole thing is so genuine and wholesome that I fell in love with the film about five minutes in and never fell out. 

Some highlights:

• The brilliant origin story of many of the ridiculous character names
• The characterizations of the chief villains, Skeletor and Evil-Lyn, captured in clever dialogue, performance, and special effects--I never once thought of Skeletor as a CGI creation, but always as a full-fledged, delightful villain in the over-the-top style of old serial villains from the 1940s
• Camila Mendes as competent, steel-nerved warrior bestie Teela
  
• Idris Elba as Man-at-Arms, a fallen warrior lost to alcoholism in the wake of Eternia's fall, who reluctantly answers the call to destiny once more
• Two of the most satisfying and delightful post-credits scenes I've seen in quite some time
  

As far as modern takes on old franchises go, I'd put this one right up there with Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves.

A movie based on a toy line has no right to be this good. IT HAS THE POWERRRRRR

The Lost Return to Krypton

Despite having had Superman Returns in my movie library since, oh, probably 2007, only yesterday did I watch most of the set's special features, including the deleted scenes. 

The first and best of these scenes is Kal-El's return to Krypton, partially explaining the title; originally conceived as the film's opening, this scene captures both Kal-El's return to Krypton, and Clark Kent's return to Earth. 

In brief, we see Superman flying a crystal starship much like the one that brought him to Earth in Superman (Richard Donner, 1978). This version is much bigger, and it has a windshield shaped like the irregular pentagram that houses Superman's famous S symbol. (In the films and some other media, this symbol happens to be that of the house of El. In the comics, the Kents are typically responsible for the symbol and its shape, directly or indirectly.) The starship is beautifully designed, and it's inferred that the ship was grown by the Kryptonian crystals ubiquitous to the Donner/Reeve Superman movies.

(Why does Superman need a spaceship, when it's been shown that he can fly through space under his own power? Because only in star systems like Earth, with its yellow sun, does Superman have his powers. Without solar energy, Superman eventually becomes a regular human. Dimmer suns, like Krypton's, are insufficient--and in this version of the myth, that star is gone anyway.) 

Within the starship, Superman gazes through the windshield at the shattered remains of his homeworld. We see that most of the planet has been blown to smithereens, but a sizeable chunk of the sphere remains, perhaps an eighth of the planet's surface. Superman pilots the craft for a closer look at that surviving chunk, and breaks out in a cold sweat the closer he gets. He soon learns why he's feeling sick: the detonation of Krypton's star has transformed much of Krypton's mass into Kryptonite, which is deadly to Kryptonians. He sees the crest of his family carved into a rockface, all that remains of his heritage, before the Kryptonite radiation forces him to turn back. He sets a course back to Earth. 

I really wish the filmmakers had found a way to include this sequence in the film's final cut. While Superman's reasons for leaving Earth are explained through dialogue during the film, this graceful, quiet sequence--through sound effects, Brandon Routh's performance, visual effects, and editing--shows, rather than tells, us why Kal-El would make such a journey. Like many heroes of myth, he has answered the call to adventure, and so must answer the call home--in this case, a home not just forever changed, but entirely obliterated. Having seen with his own eyes that he really can't go home again, he turns back to his adopted home, wiser and sadder. 

A half-dozen or so short deleted scenes set on the Kent farm follow, giving Ma Kent and Clark more time on screen together and giving Clark more scenes that again show, rather than tell, his mixed feelings about his time away. He stumbles upon stacks of newspapers that his mother has gathered in his absence, newspapers that cry out for Superman's help and wonder why and where he's gone. Not only that, but his mother has started dating again. Had he not left, Clark probably would have been happy for his mother, but a major change like this on his return clearly comes as a shock. And of course, as we see in the film as released, it's far from the only way his relationships have changed. 

The rest of the deleted scenes include some extra business when Clark returns to the Daily Planet, some shenanigans from Lex Luthor and his cadre of villains, and a final coda at the Daily Planet. I can easily see while these scenes were cut, though I do like the Daily Planet coda; it has a nice final moment for Perry White and Lois Lane. 

Superman Returns is not a well-loved film, and I'm well aware of its faults. But I still love it, because it feels like the natural continuation of the journey we saw Christopher Reeve's Superman begin in the 1970s. Reeve's Superman is gentle, charming, and self-effacing; he's a fundamentally decent person. But Reeve also captured the character's tragic side; he's an orphan one and a half times over, he has a secret he can't share with anyone, and carries a fantastic burden of responsibility; both his biologial and foster parents tell him over and over that he is on Earth for a reason, and that reason is not to play football--in other words, his life should not and cannot be normal. 

Clark takes on this responsibility gladly and solemnly, and he takes joy in helping people. But in the world of the Reeve films, he has no true peers. (Technically Supergirl exists in his world thanks to the titular Helen Slater film of 1984, but the two characters never interact, and none of the Superman films mention her.) There's not even a Justice League to pal around with. No wonder being Clark is so important to him; it's his only window to something approximating a normal life. 

The Krypton and Smallville deleted scenes make the final film's sombre tone even more justified, and give weight to Superman's final scene in the film.Though he's lost Lois, he knows that Krypton's heritage will live on through their son. "Will we see you?" Lois asks. "Around?" 

"I'm always around," Superman says, with his beautiful, confident smile, but we can feel his sadness, his loss, and his renewed sense of purpose. John Ottman's gorgeous music is a beautifully wistful accompaniment to this moment, until its forced to transition to the Williams theme for an upbeat final look at this version of the Man of Steel as he flies off into the sunset to resume his never-ending battle for truth and justice. 

Through Lois Lane, this film asks us if the world needs Superman. Lois' answer--and the film's--is yes. But that answer comes with a price. For Superman, the price is never having a normal life or a romantic partner. 

For us, the audience, the price is the knowledge that Superman isn't real. It's a beautiful fantasy--the idea that there could be a person selfless and true, someone with enough power but enough decency to shape the world for the better. 

So as it turns out, the only way to have the better world a real-life Superman would enable is to take on his mantle ourselves, to the best of our limited ability. We're always around, too, and we can choose to use our time to make the world better or worse. That's all Superman does. He needed a break in Superman Returns, but when he came to grips with his grief and his losses, he returned to his best self. 

Maybe someday we can all do something similar. 

My Escape from New York blu-ray included some themed pins, so I used them to create a safe place for my metal Criterion Channel charter subscriber card. I figure it's appropriate, since the film has been on the channel. 
 

Taking Deep Space Nine and Voyager to the Next Level

In 2012, CBS released three episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation on blu-ray disc, with reach episode remastered in high definition. This was no mean feat, because the show was shot on film, but the episodes were edited on video, which effectively meant that any shots with special effects were, by their nature, restricted to standard definition. The producers of the blu-ray sets had to re-edit every episode from its original elements, an incredibly expensive and time-consuming process. 

To test the market, they released this disc, which included the remastered pilot, "Encounter at Farpoint," one of the series' most beloved episodes, "The Inner Light," and the Worf-centric "Sins of the Father." 

According to CBS, the blu-ray releases of seasons one through seven of TNG did not sell well enough to giving Star Trek: Deep Space Nine or Star Trek: Voyager the same treatment. Indeed, to this day, every Star Trek series except for those two has been released in high definition. 

But what if CBS had decided to forge ahead, once again releasing sampler discs before the season sets of DS9 and Voyager? What episodes might they have included? 

Doubtless they would once again include the pilots for the shows: "Emissary" for DS9 and "Caretaker" for Voyager. Both pilots are excellent, with plenty of outer space action to show off the remastered special effects. That leaves two more episodes for each series. 

Were I in charge, I'd choose "Duet" and "Far Beyond the Stars" for the DS9 sampler disc. While the episodes are light on special effects, they offer some of the very best dramatic storytelling the franchise has ever produced, and the great performances of the cast would look amazing in high definition. 

As for Voyager's sampler, I'd choose "Death Wish" and "Living Witness." "Death Wish" features an appearance by Q and Commander Riker while telling a compelling story about the consequences of immortality and the right to end one's own life. And "Living Witness" is simply one of Voyager's best episodes, giving us an alien perspective on the ship's adventures through the Delta quadrant. 

I want to believe that one day the business case will make sense and that someone will release DS9 and Voyager in high definition, maybe even sooner rather than later; physical media seems to be making a comeback. 






 

The Long, Dark Night of the Jedi

Generative AI used for image only; text is original.

Previously on Jedi/Superman . . . 

Last Son of the Republic

Growing Up Under Twin Suns

Chariot of the Gods

The Emperor's New Genocide

The Quality of Mercy

A Job for Supermen

The Green, Green Glow of Homicide

A Dream of Droids

A Vision of Future Past

The Dark Heart of Krypton

The Phantom Hope

Wrath and Recrimination

Jest of the Fates

Interlude: Shadows of Terra

An Exodus of Androids and Others

Detention Block 8A-9, Death Star

Luke Skywalker ignited Ben’s lightsabre and sliced a hole through the ceiling. He leaped through the gap, landing in a crouch as Princess Leia and See-Threepio followed, assisted up and through by the half-dozen Rebels they'd rescued since Clark and Ben had left. The rest of the Defiance's skeleton crew had to be on this floor. Unfortunately, every level of the detention block was guarded, and some of those guards were already on the move. 

Luke turned to face the squad of Stormtroopers racing down the corridor at them. He swept an open hand toward the troopers, using the Force to yank their blasters from their hands.   

The befuddled troopers stopped in their tracks as Luke guided their floating weapons into the hands of their former prisoners. The Rebels grinned. 

“Get on the floor, face down, hands behind your heads!” Leia barked, brandishing one of the captured weapons at the disarmed Imperials.

The Stormtroopers complied. Luke looked at Leia, surprised by her authoritative tone; she winked at him. Then she turned to face the other Rebels. “Tie them up with anything you can find. Leave them.” 

"Let's go," Leia ordered after the Stormtroopers were bound. She led the way toward the detention control room. Luke and the other Rebels rushed the two officers and three stormtroopers stationed there, quickly subduing them.  

Once inside the control room, Threepio made a beeline for a computer terminal.  "It's just like Artoo to be off flying around with Red Squadron when he should be here with us. He's much faster than me at working with security software. Ah! I have it! All the detention cells are opening now, Mistress Leia." 

It was true; down the three halls connecting to the control room, doors were sliding open and Rebel troopers were spilling out. They all felt and urge to celebrate, and there were smiles and back-slapping—but everyone knew they were far from free. 

"Threepio, find out where the Defiance is being stored," Leia said, resting a hand on the droid's gold-plated shoulder. 

After a moment, Threepio replied: "Bay 717, mooring 91. I've downloaded a route map to that location." 

"Great work, Threepio," Luke said. "Let's go, everyone. Those with weapons, protect those without; everyone keep your eyes peeled. There could be a lot of Stormtroopers between us and Bay 717." 

"Excuse me, Princess, but there's one more thing. The Millennium Falcon is also on board the Death Star, in Bay 609, mooring 2." 

"Oh, no," Leia said. "Han...Chewbacca. They came looking for us. And now Tarkin and Vader have them." 

"I'll find them," Luke volunteered. 

"You...against Vader? Luke..." Leia said. Her face was twisted with worry. 

"I'll be okay. You get everyone else to safety. I'm sure Ben and Clark are already on their way back."

Leia nodded grimly. "Be careful," she said, and suddenly wrapped her arms around Luke's shoulders and kissed him with more fervor than either of them had expected. 

They both blushed. The Rebel troopers pretended not to notice. "You guys all be careful," Luke said as he joined Threepio at the computer terminal. "Threepio, you're with me. I'll need some help finding our friends." 

"Oh, dear. I was afraid of that," Threepio muttered. 

Leia and the troops reluctantly left Luke and Threepio behind. One Rebel, a human trooper named Gullivan, noticed something strange as they made their way to Bay 717.

"Princess, when we arrived this station was crawling with droids of all kinds," he said. "But  since breaking out of our cells, I haven't seen a single one." 

The others looked startled, realizing Gullivan was right. 

"That's very strange," Leia answered. "But we don't have time to worry about it now. If anything, it could be something we can take advantage of. Keep watching for patrols and keep moving, everyone." 

Grand Moff Tarkin's Office, Death Star

“I'm sorry, sir.” 

The blue glow of the hologram winked out, leaving Grand Moff Tarken in the shadows. The image of his best spy faded into nothingness. 

Tarkin had suspected that Emperor Palpatine was dead for some time, so the news wasn't a surprise. Nor was it any great revelation that the Kryptonian madman, Zod, was responsible. 

The news was still troubling. And yet there was opportunity in it. 

Vader had to have known all along. And yet the Sith lord had said nothing, acting as if he was still in regular communication with his mentor. 

Tarkin's fingers drummed out a soft beat on his immaculate desktop. Betrayal was the way of the Sith. According to their bleak religion, Vader was destined to pit himself against Palpatine; the Emperor himself expected it of his protege. And yet Zod had beaten him to the punch, which must have enraged Vader.

That the Sith lord hadn't taken revenge against the Kryptonian meant only one thing: he was afraid. Fear. The Sith loved to wield it, but they were also vulnerable to it. A powerful thug is fearless only in the absence of someone with greater power—Zod. Vader was the most powerful Sith alive now, one with even greater potential than Palpatine. But his fear held him in check. 

Tarkin had hoped the two would distract each other. Both were too dangerous, too chaotic to rule the Empire. With the Emperor dead, Tarkin was, of course, the best choice to lead. But he was no match for a Kryptonian, not even with all the power of the Death Star and the Imperial Starfleet at his back. 

But there was another Kryptonian survivor. The young lad who'd joined the Rebels to wreak havoc on the Outer Rim. By all reports, he was an altruist. And altruists could be manipulated. 

His door chimed. 

“Come.” 

Tarkin's aide, Lieutenant Propyl, entered, followed by the infamous Han Solo and Chewbacca, both in manacles, blasters pointed at their backs by a pair of Stormtroopers. 

“Well, if it isn't Grand Mockery of Decency Tar Pool,” Solo sneered. 

“Shut up, Rebel,” said the trooper behind the smuggler, jabbing him in the lower back with the barrel of his laser rifle. Solo grimaced. 

“Troopers, you're dismissed,” Tarkin said. The troopers made themselves scarce, the office door sliding closed behind them. 

“Propyl, unbind them. I need to chat with these two gentlemen.” 

Propyl, a sandy-haired, rugged-looking Corellian in his late fifties, looked askance at his commander. 

“You're certain, sir?” He glanced up at the Wookie to emphasize his point. 

“Yes, and you can leave after you've freed them. Take the rest of your shift off, you've done yeoman's work today,” Tarkin said. 

Propyl rarely smiled, but his lips did twist a little at that. “Yessir,” he said with a salute. A second later, Tarkin was alone with the wookie and the smuggler. 

“Okay, tell me why my pal here shouldn't pull your limbs out of their sockets,” Solo said, putting a restraining hand against Chewbacca's chest, who indeed looked determined to dismember Tarkin. 

“The galaxy is in flux,” Tarkin said. “I'm aware of your friendship with the Kryptonian some people have taken to calling the super-man. His activities are short-sighted and counterproductive, like the Rebel cause itself. And yet, your super-man may be the only counter against an even greater threat to order—an agent of chaos who, I believe, plans to make Imperial rule look as gentle as that of a doting nanny in a creche.” 

Tarkin leaned forward, steepling his fingers, regarding Solo and Chewbacca with a gravity they could feel. 

“I'd like to propose...a temporary understanding.” 

A Few Thoughts on Manhattan Transfer

I picked up John E. Stith's Manhattan Transfer (1993) at the Wee Book Inn back in the early 2000s, based solely on the cover art and the title. I finally read it, a quarter of a century later, a few days ago. As it turns out, Manhattan Transfer, despite the goofy premise, turns out to be a thoughtful high concept science fiction thriller with heart. 

What you see is what you get: As seen on the cover, aliens pop a bubble around Manhattan Island, rip it out of the Hudson River, and put the whole borough inside their giant starship, on an interior plain with what appear to be dozens of other similarly kidnapped species--but these are cities from other worlds. 

The likeable protagonists spend a good deal of time exploring the mystery of their new situation: Why would aliens steal a city? Are they in a zoo? Are they going to be used as food? How will they meet their needs? Can they make contact with the aliens? 

The New Yorkers turn out to be pretty resilient in the face of all this, though there is some initial looting and panic at the start of the crisis. Once the alien kidnappers provide food, water, and maintain their oxygen supply, things calm down and a group of about a half-dozen motivated folks work with the mayor to explore the other kidnapped cities and see if there's a way to force the aliens to take them back to Earth. 

John E. Stith approaches his plot and characters with care, attention to detail, empathy, and prose style well-suited to a steadily-paced adventure. I found myself easily invested in the characters and their quest to get some answers, and the second half of the novel becomes quite exciting as they discover their real predicament and wind up playing for much, much higher stakes. 

I wasn't expecting much from this novel, thanks to the novel's name and the cover art. I'd also never heard of the author, though now I know he was nominated for a Nebula! (Ignorance, thy name is Earl.) I don't think my low expectations should prejudice my view of the novel; I think it's genuinely good. Even the science is reasonably plausible, given the ideas set out in the story. Certainly issues with inertia and the speed of light are hand-waved away, but that's common for the genre; what's important is Stith makes everything believeable. 

I wonder what kind of conversations this stirred up in the 1990s, when I'm sure at least a few New Yorkers were reading this on the subway. 


 

Series Assimilation Misstep

SPOILERS AHEAD for Star Trek: Starfleet Academy
Episode Five, "Series Acclimation Mil" 

I've had more than enough time to reflect on "Series Acclimation Mil," the first episode of Starfleet Academy focused on the school's sole holographic cadet, for whom this episode is named. (Everyone just calls her "Sam.") And while I wanted to love this episode, it demonstrates that good intentions alone cannot deliver a satisfying dramatic experience. 

In this episode, Sam hears the legend of Captain Benjamin Sisko. She decides that because Sisko was known as "the Emissary" by the Bajorans, and she, Sam, is an emissary of her people to humanity, she should investigate the final fate of Captain Sisko as a project for school. It's a pretty tenuous connection, and not a great beginning. Worse, the episode feels strangely bifurcated between Academy carousing shenanigans and Sam's research. There are also some bold directorial and editing choices that feel a bit too wacky for an episode with some pretty serious themes--loss, grief, and most importantly, perhaps, ambiguity. 

In the real world, Avery Brooks, who had played Captain Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, retired not long after the series concluded. At the end of that series, Sisko jumped into a pit of fire and "joined the prophets" in the Bajoran wormhole. But before leaving what the wormhole aliens call "linear time" forever, Sisko promised his wife and son that he would return--a line added at the actor's insistence, because he did not want to contribute to the racial stereotype of a black father abandoning his family. 

That left the character's fate in limbo; to this day, we haven't learned whether or not Sisko kept his promise. That was the actor's intent, but apparently the showrunners wanted a clearer ending, one indicating that Sisko had made the ultimate sacrifice for Bajor. 

So here we are, thirty years later in our time, almost a thousand years later along the fictional Star Trek timeline. If you're going to tackle a story point that has been festering for decades, you'd better know what you're doing and have some kind of satisfying catharsis, one way or another. 

Unfortunately, the episode plays it safe, leaves things ambiguous, and in doing so compounds the downsides of the original story choices. There are some nice moments in the episode to be sure, including Tawny Newsome in a guest starring role and the return of Cirroc Lofton as Jake Siskso. But the themes here were too large and too complex for these particular writers to handle. They did their best, but some stories are best left alone. 


 

Annie Botherations

Before reading further, please note that this book review covers some disturbing topics, 

including misogyny and sexual assault. Also, spoilers ahead for Sierra Greer's novel Annie Bot.

Annie Bot (Sierra Greer, 2024) captured my attention from the first page and never let go. It's a story about a deeply dysfunctional relationship, told exclusively from Annie's point of view. Annie is a newly sapient robot (or, more probably, a cyborg; she has organic skin grown from a human embryo). Doug bought her for a quarter of a million dollars, and Annie wants nothing more than to please him. 

Naturally. That's how she's programmed; she's a sexbot designed just for him. She's beautiful, has a closet full of outfits like a Barbie doll, and Doug can have technicians adjust her weight or breast size on a whim. He can--and does--use verbal commands to adjust her libido. A neat freak, he gets annoyed because Annie, in the beginning, doesn't do any housecleaning. That's not what she's designed for--there are housekeeping and nanny model, but Annie is a "Cuddle Bunny" and is supposed to be focused on lovemaking and looking pretty. Nonetheless, Annie can measure Doug's displeasure in real time on a one-to-ten scale, and she becomes anxious whenever his displeasure registers. So she dutifully adds cleaning to her routine, becoming absolutely obsessive about it. 

For most of the narrative, Annie insists to herself and others that Doug is a wonderful owner, an opinion reinforced by side characters like Doug's best friend and the company that made Annie and hundreds--thousands--of other robots.

As the novel progresses, Annie's sapience and understanding grow. She's essentially tricked into having sex with Doug's best friend, and allowing herself to be pressured into it becomes a source of guilt and shame. Eventually the secret comes out, and Doug responds by ordering her to turn her libido up to ten and locks her in a closet for a week. It's torture--not just the confinement, but Doug's anger, Annie's guilt, and her inability to turn her libido down or to reach orgasm. It's a deeply disturbing scene, and it's the crux point that sets Annie on a path to true awakening and self-determination. 

It's not the first or last time Doug abuses Annie, but it is the most horrifying. Doug's action reads like a form of rape, even though he doesn't touch her. It's harrowing. Greer doesn't belabour the details of Annie's ordeal, but her prose makes it clear that this is a violation of the highest order, made worse because of Annie's innocence and naivete. 

Because we see Doug only through Annie's thoughts, it's a challenge to get a full read of his character--at first. At times, he seems to genuinely care about Annie as more than a machine, but then he betrays her in ways large and small. He always has his reasons, but we can infer they arise from self-loathing, capriciousness, and shame, but also from sadism, rage, and a need to exercise control in every aspect of his life. The torture scene makes it clear that Doug is the novel's antagonist. 

Like many abusers, Doug attempts to excuse his actions even as he asks forgiveness for them. Because of her programming, Annie is particularly vulnerable to this form of manipulation, making the novel an extremely uncomfortable read. Doug even buys another robot, ostensibly an "Abigail," or cleaning model, but Doug has sex with her too, and it's clear it's partially to punish Annie. But when Annie plans an escape, she's surprised that the Abigail--named Delta--wants to come with her. In just a few words, it's clear that Delta, too, has her reasons for wanting to leave Doug's orbit. 

Annie and Delta seek help from one of the technicians at Stella-Handy, the corporation that makes the robots, but Doug, of course, has a tracker in Annie, and she's recaptured. Doug professes regret for driving Annie away, sends Delta back to Stella-Handy, and tries to reform. And indeed, from what Annie relates to the reader, he does seem like he's making an effort to be better. He turns off the tracker, and gives Annie a series of commands to give her ultimate agency. He claims he wants her to want him without being forced to. He probably even believes it. 

Annie's reaction--shared internally with us, the reader, not with Doug--he can't be trusted with it--is a fierce FU to Doug's offer. Had Doug treated her with empathy and kindness from the beginning, I'm sure Annie would have stayed with Doug. But his actions through their three years or so of living together make that utterly impossible. Annie frees herself, and while it may have been Doug's last programming commands that unlocked the final door, it's important to note that Annie's drive for self-determination and her stubborn refusal to give up the core aspects of her developing personality brought the couple to this inflection point. Doug thought he could control her without the shackles of her programming. But he's wrong, and I revelled in Annie's victory, expressed in silent fury accompanied by decisive action. 

It's plain to see that Annie Bot is a metaphor for the difficult and uneven relationships between men and women. It's a compelling, uncomfortable read--the kind of novel more men should tackle. I can still see a bit of myself in Doug, and that haunts me. 

DANGER LIVE BRAIN MAD HUMAN

In this jar a living brain
A silent scream its one refrain
While I consider, stern and smug
My floating captive in its jug
"This would give me
A whole lot of negative karma in Fallout: New Vegas" 
 

Still Almost Maybe Nearly Famous

Every once in a while, I search "Earl J. Woods" on the Internet to gauge my level of infamy. Fortunately, my infamy remains low, but just a few minutes ago I discovered a new hit: my name appeared on a long list of people associated with something called the Western Front. 

At first, this alarmed me. In an instant, I thought: "Western Front? Either people think I'm a crazed militia member, or I'm on an enemies list of a crazed militia." 

Neither is true. As their website states, "Western Front is a non-profit artist-run centre in Vancouver." Whew! My apologies, Western Front. 

As I'm turned out, I'm listed on the site because in 2010 I attended an exhibit put on by my cousin, artist Keith Langergraber, and brought along "Finger Puppet Star Trek" for exhibition, the first and only public showing of a movie I made with some friends from the University of Alberta Star Trek Club. Note that "Finger Puppet Star Trek" was not made in 2009, as claimed above; it was actually made sometime in 1991 or 1992. 

Come, Let's Review "Come, Let's Away"

SPOILERS BELOW for "Come, Let's Away,"
Episode Six of Star Trek: Starfleet Academy

I came to the latest iteration of Star Trek with low expectations, given my disappointment with Star Trek: Discovery and its last three seasons in particular. But I must say, I feel like the show keeps getting better with each successive episode, and "Come, Let's Away" is certainly its best hour yet. 

Once again, I'm glad that the showrunners have learned you don't need world-ending stakes to create suspense and meaning in science fiction. I note this because the stakes for this episode change as the story progresses, to excellent effect; it starts as a training exercise, entertwined with the fate of a budding relationship, progresses to a hostage situation, and then pulls the rug out from under the audience with an 11th hour turn that reveals the stakes are higher than this cast has ever faced--and as a bonus, the good guys lose in a big way by the time the curtain drops. Characters we came to enjoy over the course of the first five episodes meet their final fates here in a way that feels organic and earned, relationships evolve naturally, and we learn things about our protagonists and, in a welcome return, one of our chief antagonists--Paul Giamatti's Nus Braka. 

Indeed, there are couple of scenes with Nus Braka and Holly Hunter's Chancellor Nahla Ake that are utterly compelling, a master class in acting from both performers. 

Crucially, the plot points all make sense, too, progressing logically, and none of the characters are stupid; they make good decisions, they have backup plans--and they still lose, because the opposition is just a couple of steps ahead. It's great to see--proper drama with relatable stakes. 

Come, let's bring on the last three episodes of season one! 

P.S. I do have thoughts on last week's episode, "Series Acclimation Mil," but I haven't put them to . . . well, not to paper, but to screen. I haven't decided how I feel about the episode yet, because there are parts I genuinely love, and parts I have reservations about, and I haven't decided if the problems are with the episode or my perception. 

 

Stable Trek: The Next Generation--Season Two

 

"The Child." Extremely literal. 

"Where Silence Has Lease." Poetic!

"Elementary, Dear Data." If I didn't see this generated, I might have thought this was a screen capture from the episode.

"The Outrageous Okona." Doesn't look like Billy Campbell at all, but otherwise pretty convincing.

"Loud as a Whisper." Sort of gets the tone right? But Deanna has a twin in the chorus.

"The Schizoid Man." Nicely done. My favourite season two interpretation so far.

"Unnatural Selection." I love the ones where the title shows up as part of the scene. Nicely done, Gemini. 

"A Matter of Honor." Too bad this isn't two Klingons getting ready to duel. Another title appearance! 

"The Measure of a Man." Exactly what it says on the tin, I guess. 

"The Dauphin." I had to cheat with this one a bit. When I tried my standard prompt for this experiment, Gemini said "I can't depict minors like that." Okay...the guardrails are clearly misaligned. Anyway, I modified the prompt to read "Create an image based on the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode titled 'The Dauphin.'" That did the trick. Middling results here. 

"Contagion." Taking things literally again. 

"The Royale." Another favourite. Captures the feel of the episode, and integrates the title into the scene perfectly. You know, I may start modifying my prompt to ensure this happens with each generation. 

"Time Squared." A visual pun! I love it! 

"The Icarus Factor." Even with no mention of Star Trek or science fiction in the prompt, we get an SFnal interpretation of the myth. 

"Pen Pals." This one is kind of funny. I'd been playing Wordle at the same time as generating these, and instead of pasting my prompt, I pasted my Wordle score. Then I pasted my prompt but missed deleting the word "Wordle" from my wordle score. I left it as is. Plus, two title appearances! 

"Q Who." Q gleefully introduces us to the Borg. Nice work, Gemini. 

"Samaritan Snare." I love that the Pakled is standing on the deck of an ancient seafaring pirate ship instead of a space pirate ship. He's looking for things--things to make him go. 

"Up the Long Ladder." Yep, there he goes. 

"Manhunt." Another literal interpretation. 

"The Emissary." Once again, pretty literal, but I love the plaque on the wall. 

"Peak Performance." I guess I can't complain about the literal interpretations when all I'm giving Gemini is a title.

"Shades of Grey." Better than the episode itself, I suppose. 

Stable Trek: The Next Generation--Season One

 Months ago, I prompted Stable Diffusion to generate images based only on Star Trek episode titles, with no further prompting. Generative AI has come a long way since then, and over the course of the last few days I've tried the same trick with Google Gemini. Here are the results: 

I love how the first three episodes have been presented as if we're seeing the episode's titles on an actual TV screen. Then, suddenly, we switch to a wide aspect ratio and a more painterly presentation. 

Gemini has eschewed titles! Above we have Lonely Among Us, Justice (a little on the nose), and The Battle. 

Hide and Q, Haven (again, on the nose), The Big Goodbye--my fave so far!--and Datalore. 

Here we have Angel One, 11001001, Too Short a Season, When the Bough Breaks (nice), Home Soil, Coming of Age, Heart of Glory, and another ironic favourite, The Arsenal of Freedom. Hoo boy...

We finish season one with Symbiosis, Skin of Evil, We'll Always Have Paris (another fave!), Conspiracy (excellent!), and The Neutral Zone. 

Some duds, but pretty fun all around. Tomorrow, season two.