“That’s who I am. That’s what I do. I’m a businessman, and more than that, I’m a Fer,engi businessman. Do you know what that means? It means that I’m not exploiting people at random. I’m doing it to a specific set of rules -- the Rules of Acquisition. And I won’t disregard them when I find them inconvenient.”
It’s difficult to know what our relationship with our bodies is going to be like in the future. As technology advances, even what we consider to be our bodies has changed. Medical implants, from simple prosthetics to replacement organs, are already considered part of us. What will change as the items go into the more fantastical? When I finally get my chainsaw shark-cannon arms, will they truly be considered me?
“I canceled my death for you. I was really looking forward to it.”
The more experienced I become in my chosen vocation, the more I appreciate the slow rehabilitation of Dr. Julian Bashir. Other than a misstep next season which the actor hated, the character has steadily progressed from an arrogant, sexually aggressive naif to arguably one of the most heroic characters in science fiction. It was a pretty steep climb, too, when you remember just how obnoxious he was in the early going, and how unbearably creepily he treated Dax. This episode, nestled here at the end of the fourth season and serving to remind us just how monstrous the Dominion can be, is arguably the most important Bashir episode, harnessing his foibles and virtues into a compelling portrait of a flawed hero.
“I am First Omet'iklan, and I am dead. As of this moment, we are all dead. We go into battle to reclaim our lives. This we do gladly, for we are Jem'Hadar. Remember: victory is life.”
-- First Omet’iklan
Great villains are inevitably living on borrowed time. I’m not talking about the oncoming train in the form of our hero, either heroically chopping off a hand, revoking diplomatic immunity, or covering himself in mud. I’m talking about the urge for the author to humanize them.
“Why is the Federation so obsessed with the Maquis? We've never harmed you. And yet, we're constantly arrested and charged with terrorism. Starships chase us through the Badlands, and our supporters are harassed and ridiculed. Why? Because we've left the Federation, and that's the one thing you can't accept. Nobody leaves paradise. Everyone should want to be in the Federation! Hell, you even want the Cardassians to join. You're only sending them replicators, because, one day, they can take their rightful place on the Federation Council. You know, in some ways, you're even worse than the Borg. At least they tell you about their plans for assimilation. You're more insidious. You assimilate people and they don't even know it.”
-- Lt. Commander Michael Eddington
Eddington was practically a Chekhov’s Gun in human form. When he was introduced in the beginning of Season 3, he was sort of a do-over for the late, entirely unlamented Lt. Primmin, addressing the very valid concern of would Starfleet really allow the security of an important outpost be entirely run by an official of a foreign government? The answer, of course, is no and having another foil for a character as prickly as Odo is bound to bear some fruit.
“Someone once said, ‘Life is a search to find the peace that you once had when you were safe inside your mother.’”
-- Lwaxana Troi
“Write what you know” is the most common piece of advice writers get. It’s also terrible advice, since it would completely eliminate a ton of genres a lot of people really like. It’s also part of the reason so many fictional characters are professional writers. Writers might not know what it’s like to be a cop in inner-city Detroit, or an architect in Zurich, or a masked vigilante in Hong Kong, but we have a pretty good idea of how a writer conducts their day-to-day. When I started, I promised myself I wouldn’t write about writers, but as my career as progressed, I’ve found it almost unavoidable.
“This time I will deal with the rebels myself.”
-- Regent Worf
The defining question of science fiction is “What if?” Those two simple words are the springboard for all of the great (and for that matter terrible) sci-fi out there. Some of the questions veer toward the hard edges of the genre: how will nano-technology change human existence, what if aliens invaded in World War II. Sometimes, sci-fi wants to tackle the softer, deeper questions usually confined to drama, the fantastic elements in the world allowing confrontations to be played out in stark, literal terms.
“Hello, Miles. Welcome to Hell.”
What’s the purpose of the justice system? On the surface, it’s a pretty easy question. One of those everyone is certain they have an ironclad answer to. It probably goes something along the lines of, protecting the innocent members of society by segregating dangerous criminals, and at the same time discouraging those same criminals through the application of unpleasant punishments. Deprivation is the most common form of punishment, either in the form of property (fines), time (imprisonment), or life (duh).
“Fate is a human concept.”
-- Advocate Ch’Pok
The first thing that struck me as I was watching this week’s episode of DS9 was that the crew really gets put on trial a lot. Back in Season One, Dax went on trial for something Curzon supposedly did, and in Season Two, O’Brien got thrown into the Stalinist nightmare of the Cardassian justice system. Now, it’s Worf’s turn. With all this going on, you’d think Sisko would have a legal expert sent over from the Federation, and I accidentally might have just pitched CBS’s new Star Trek series.
“I am the Emissary.”
-- Akorem Laan
Federation officers are not supposed to interfere with the internal affairs of other cultures. That’s not quite the Prime Directive, but it’s pretty close, and certainly a related concept. It’s a good policy to have when Starfleet is zooming around the galaxy in spaceships that basically have access to magic. I’m not joking -- the holodeck, replicators, and transporters all might as well be acts of gods, even for relatively advanced races.
“Ferengi workers don’t want to stop the exploitation. We want to find a way to become the exploiters.”
DS9’s storytelling shows its age in the strangest ways. Last week, we saw the vast gulf between the understanding of consent twenty years ago and now, this week, we’re looking at a political concept that has abruptly become not just politicized but regarded as a creeping specter of genocide by a significant portion of the American electorate. While that’s more a reflection on the growing hysteria of that portion, it’s still instructional on the shifting tides of public opinion. What a difference twenty years makes.