Frakkin' space nerds.

Last month, the reimagined, 2004 version of cult sci-fi hit Battlestar Galactica began airing in Cyprus. Ever the one to chase after the geek zeitgeist - in an effort to become one of them (at a distance) - I quickly made sure the show became something of a regular fixture in my post-work-and-taking-the-rats-out-for-a-crap-wait-where's-my-beer? routine. I was speculative at first. With its somewhat dodgy (and repeated) special effects as well as the budget-induced, 'lived-in' feel, the show immediately brought to mind that last, doomed series of Star Trek - Enterprise. That show featured a collection of future space heroes that, in terms of characterization, could have easily been beamed from a rural Georgia motorway, what with all their southern charm and unspoken nationalist camaraderie. Oh, and there was one hot alien chick whose clothes seemed to get tighter as the show went on. With its humans-on-the-run premise, would Battlestar repeat that show's formula, and thus its failings? Would I spend a year following it before realizing that I've seen this all before? Would I eventually punch the TV screen five episodes in after the seventh hundred usage of the bizarrely infuriating semi-curse word, "Frakkin'"? Turns out the answer to those questions is a big, fat no.

Diversity Is The Word
So often, sci-fi envisions a future where human culture has become a solely American entity. Apart from a few fancy words and the occasional glimpse of a hot or old white priestess wearing a white veil and saying something flowery and inane, we are basically exposed to a United States with floating cars. Characters' sensibilities, inner conflicts and moral diatribes remain, apart from cosmetic placeholders, very much the same. At first glimpse, Battlestar is not far off. Executive power rests with a President and Vice-President. Military personnel smoke cigars and drink green whiskey. Codes of dress as shockingly current and typically western. Oh, and everyone apart from a mad scientist speaks with an American accent (the mad scientist's English). But a few episodes in, the cracks begin to show, and we start to realize that the culture we are witnessing is not only that of a single world (Caprica, the capital of the twelve colonial worlds), but that its flaws, and thus those of modern western society, are being placed under great scrutiny by the show's creators.

This 'Caprican' culture is xenophobic and motivated by greed, making assumptions about the beliefs of people from different worlds, and cementing the structure of humanity's last surviving society on its own ideals. As an Arab, I could not miss a moment where an officer openly assumed that Dualla - a woman from the 'backward' Sagittaron - felt sympathies for a terrorist from her homeworld, an accusation she immediately refutes. A number of main characters, meanwhile, are non-white and (shock! horror!) involved in romantic relationships with white characters. 'Sharon' is Asian, Dualla is black, Gaeta is ambiguous brown, and the Adamas are apparently semetic (Adama is Hebrew for earth, while their first names are apparently Capricanized versions of Arabic names), not that you would be able to tell from Apollo's chalk-white skin.

Then, of course, comes the presentation of women. With high-ranking officials addressed as 'sir', and with both the political and military divisions headed by women, it seems that the twelve colonies have moved on from sexual politics. However, I should note a tendency for their authority to be undermined, particularly President Laura Roslin, often referred to as a "school teacher" due to her previous post as the Minister of Education. And of course there is the 'sir' thing, which implies that in order to get ahead women have had to emulate masculinity rather than forge a distinctly female depiction of authority. I do hope this is address eventually.

A Plot That Actually Goes Somewhere
While most humans-lost-in-space shows follow an episodic structure - most likely in order to remain accessible and capture some sense of adventure - Battlestar actually feels like it's building up to something, which I appreciate greatly. One season in, and there are already enough hanging plot threads to keep you begging for more. Cylon agents are constantly being revealed, there's a threeway human-cylon relationship hanging in the balance. Then, of course, comes the theological aspect, which despite sounding ridiculous (humans apparently are polytheistic, observing a religion that combines star signs with the Greek Gods), actually ends up captivating. Following a dying leader, and carrying video game-style acquisitions like the Arrow Of Apollo, the human race is in search of a legendary place called Earth. Then, of course, come the bizarrely self-righteous, monotheistic views of the murderous Cylons, who force the mad English doctor to submit himself to monotheism, and then prophesize the birth of the first human-cylon baby. If that isn't captivating and challenging viewing, I don't know what is.