I like Star Trek.
I like Star Trek a lot. Probably more than most people. Probably more than is healthy for the average twenty one year old girl. I like Star Trek to the point where it’s almost become a disorder. If we are channel surfing and I hear the orchestral strains of ‘The Next Generation theme, a high buzzing starts up at the base of my brainstem and continues, growing steadily louder and louder, until I watch the episode in question. I imagine that this is a bit what a crack addict feels like.
And no, the same thing doesn’t happen with oldskool Star Trek or any of the following series. It’s Star Trek: TNG all the way, baby.
At this point in my life, I have officially seen every single episode. I don’t remember all of these, being that I saw many of these when I was a kid. It was a near-weekly ritual. My brother and I (possibly my sisters, I don’t remember if they were very involved in this scenario, being that they were probably Too Cool for Star Trek at that point of their lives) would sit on either side of my father and watch with open mouths while Picard got tortured by Romulans and Riker posed triumphantly with a phaser. At each commercial break I would turn and say, “Dad, what’s gonna happen? What’s gonna happen, Dad?” and he would sigh and say, “I don’t know, it’s a new one. We’ll have to wait and see.”
I would turn back, stare at the television, and try not to talk, after which I would wriggle nervously and squeal, “Yeah, but what do you think will happen?”
I guess that Star Trek was a pretty pivotal part of my childhood. My tastes now are almost completely defined by my exposure to Star Fleet, and I’m totally okay with that. It strikes me as strange though, that my other siblings weren’t as influenced by it as I was. My oldest sister became addicted to science fiction novels, but rarely watches television. My brother likes games with a sciency bent. My other sister, I don’t think, has scifi featured prominently anywhere in her entertainment vocabulary.
I wonder why I kept it.