Held together with courage & duct tape.

There is hope, Captain.

I used to think Star Trek was only for super science brains: The type of people who as adults can still recite the periodic table on command, give themselves homework for fun and eat cereal for dinner. By these assumed metrics, I was never in danger of becoming a fan.

So, when my ex said we should watch Star Trek: The Next Generation I was borderline offended. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with Bizzaro Keeley.” Eventually I caved in thinking at least I’d be able to say it was terrible and I was right. Right?

Not so.

I was shocked to discover I wasn’t just wrong. I didn’t even tolerate the show. I loved it. You want me to say it? Fine, I’ll say it: My name is Keeley and I’m a Trekkie.

Dammit.

Thus ensued one of two reasons my previous relationship was elevated to the rank of ‘slightly more edifying than a plastic plant’: #1 because of my whippet, Holly and #2 because he introduced me to the world of Star Trek.

So. That was worth it.

How did this happen?

Yes, it has been bugging me, thanks for asking. And yes, I have devoted far too much mental real estate into unpacking how Star Trek of all things made it into both my evenings and popular references.

Because this show is straight up bonkers.

It looks like a theatre production accidentally got filmed and made it to air.

Some of the costumes and props look like home-made projects. It’s as though one of the crew called out to their mum after school one day: “MU-UM I NEED TRIBBLES.” She rolls up her sleeves and makes her way to the craft cupboard knowing she 'was born for such a time as this’.

The plasticky chinks of weapons sound like childhood memories of dress-up battles with your mates.

The special effects are unintentionally humorous, think: people obliterated into globs, fake blood and shiny lights with sound effects: Pew Pew Pew.

The characters are basically superhuman mega-nerds who can innovate untested, highly complex solutions involving quantum physics and advanced technology with remarkable speed, while being fired at and the room fills with near-lethal amounts of radiation. When most of us have trouble resetting a forgotten password.

Plus, we have zero idea what they’re saying 99% of the time. We just watch it in our pyjamas and think “If Chief O’Brien says it I believe it.”

Even in the light of all this evidence, my resistance was futile.

But I finally know how this show brain-washed me and turned me into the writer who is proudly wearing her Starfleet Academy jumper as we speak.

There is hope, Captain.

First, let’s set the scene. Because for once, we’re seeing a vision of the future and it hasn’t all turned to crap. In Star Trek’s world, we’ve figured it out: there’s no more war, no poverty or hunger and we’re not being hunted by mushroom-heads. Earth is at peace.

In the future, broken bones are healed with a zappy thing, organs can be regenerated and we have a laser that can do a full body scan with immediate results. (No more anxious waits and vague, ominous text messages from the doctor’s clinic.)

Star Trek essentially says to us, humanity is going to be ok, our future is bright.

And now that the human race has peace and stability in their world, they have more room to play and explore. They’re safe to try and fail. (Because let’s face it, the zappy thing will probably fix it.) So they boldly go into strange new worlds.

And I want this. All of it. The peace. The zappy thing. The hope. The freedom to play and experiment.

Fearlessness & imperfection

This show itself looks like it’s held together with courage and duct tape.

In recent years Star Trek has been brought to life with the shiny pizzaz the world deserves.

But we fell in love with it before the aliens looked believable. Before they chose decent music. Before the green screen didn’t look so obvious it might as well have been given an opening credit.

And I freaking love that about it.

I love that it was an absolute mess of ideas and weird choices and that the actors just committed to the moment. I love that they believed in the world enough, even while face-to-face with cardboard sets and plushies as aliens to take us with them.

The show asks a lot of us in terms of suspending all logic and reason. Even within the context of this fantastical world, some of the storylines still feel like a stretch.

But the show creators weren’t afraid to go big, even when they had no business doing so. Not only that, they didn’t wait for technology (or costumes) to catch up to the dream - they used what they had and made it imperfectly.

Case in point: Somewhere behind the scenes they went, “We need an alien.” One of the crew shrugs: “we’ve got my neighbour's dog and some leftover Tribble fabric.” Not only did they not laugh Derek out the door, but they said yes Derek good idea Derek and this iconic moment was gifted to the world.

That was maybe a dumb idea. Or was it brilliant? Who can tell. The point is, they didn’t hold back, they threw some of the most insane ideas onto our TV screens and we were captivated.

I want that kind of fearlessness. To just throw ideas out there even if they’re not as beautiful as my mind can see them or I don’t have the “right” pieces to create the art I want. I want the audaciousness to be that ridiculous.

It lets us dream

What the world of Star Trek gives to humans in order to dream, imagine and play is unmatched and unfair.

I’m actually jealous.

Thanks to the holodeck, Cosplay here is just another Tuesday. They can disappear into a Sherlock Holmes adventure, or the Wild West, or an old-timey Irish pub. Whatever they imagine, they can create.

They can design programs and even ‘holo-novels’: stories that they can play out in 3D. A writer’s dream. No waiting for a big movie producer to put your story into live action, just add it to one of the shiny plastic USB’s and place yourself as one of the characters, like Captain Proton.

They are unapologetic in their desire for play. Even though they’re not just grown ups, but Starfleet officers. They should be serious and stoic, right? Yet, playing elaborate dress-ups is totally normal, even encouraged.

As if that wasn’t enough, they can magic things up out of thin air. Want something? Ask the replicator. Imagine never having to cook dinner again. Or shop for groceries. (Note to self: Pre-order Replicator.V1)

There are holograms where we can talk to each other, symbionts that can live connected lives through their hosts and we also have the ability to time travel. (Albeit, usually unintentionally.) Plus, we could move through beams of light, molecule by molecule, teleporting to any location we choose in a matter of seconds. [Active wooshing sound.]

All of this appeals to our imagination and our childlike hope. It’s a never ending quest of improvisation. A world where we can pretty much do whatever and go wherever we want and even the captains of galaxy class starships choose to use that freedom to play fancy dress-ups.

I want to live in a world where keeping a broad range of costumes on hand at any given time is normal. I would also be ok with a replicator making my dinner and a holodeck to dive into after a bad day fighting with my version of Klingons.

Humanity & home

And here’s the biggest piece. In all of this beauty, surrounded by cosmic phenomena and scientific magic, what do they do? They explore themes of humanity, home and belonging in every single episode.

All layered beneath the questions, what does it mean to be human and what place do we have to decide the rights of others?

We see this played out in:

Kira wanting to restore her homeland and bring justice, whatever the cost.

Data (an Android) longing to know humanness.

Odo (a Shapeshifter) seeking his origins and family.

Seven of Nine, (a Borg) who learns how to be unique again.

Picard and his fierce loyalty to his crew.

Captain Janeway and her many attempts to sacrifice herself for the sake of her ship family getting home.

And many others.

These characters live life with abundance, exploration, play, and honour.

Plus, I have to mention iconic team ups like Wesley and his jumpers, Riker and his chair leans, Bashir and O’Brien - that all help make these shows as loveable as they are.

Keeley’s Log, stardate 78933.9

Have I spent just as much time watching Star Trek as I have wondering why I’m watching Star Trek?

Yes.

And thus, I present this case to myself:

This strange and absurd world makes me want to dream and hope.

I might never get a replicator (fingers crossed) or a holodeck of my own, though I suppose I could create a dreamatorium like Abed. But the playfulness of this world brings me comfort and gives me permission to remain a child at heart.

The honour that they conduct their lives with, even if they fall short, inspires me.

The messy, imperfection of the whole universe brings a charm to my evenings that makes me feel connected to other artists who are just out there having a go.

And I feel less alone in my quest for belonging and home.

Computer, end log.

K x

Supplemental: Am adding a raktajino mug to my wishlist for any friends or family who may or may not be reading this and may or may not want early Christmas present ideas.

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