Daryle Lockhart

This podcast series takes place in the years after Khan and his crew are left on Ceti Alpha 5 and answers lots of questions about what happened to Ceti Alpha 6, what happened to Lt. Marla McIvers, and more.

One great thing about this show is the voice cast. Khan is voiced by Naveen Andrews. The story is told from the perspective of a Starfleet investigation years after the events in "Wrath of Khan", an investigation being held aboard the USS Excelsior, commanded by Captain Hikaru Sulu. So you get George Takei, and Tim Russ as Tuvok, leading up the science part of the investigation.

The other great thing about this story - the new characters introduced. Marla's character finally gets the depth she deserves, but also, as a result, new enjoyable spinoff characters are introduced.

Purpose in life—the extent to which people perceive their lives as having a sense of direction and goals—has emerged as a promising candidate health asset. (Ryff, 2014; McKnight and Kashdan, 2009; Ryff and Kim, 2020) Growing evidence suggests that a higher sense of purpose is associated with healthier lifestyle behaviors (e.g., increased physical activity and preventive healthcare use, as well as reduced illicit drug use and likelihood of sleep problems), (Kim et al., 2020a; Kim et al., 2020b; Kim et al., 2014; Kim et al., 2022; Kang et al., 2021) healthier biological function (e.g., reduced inflammation and allostatic load), (Zilioli et al., 2015; Steptoe and Fancourt, 2019; Hafez et al., 2018) physical function, (Kim et al., 2017) and also reduced risk of chronic disease (e.g., lower risk of cardiovascular disease and cognitive impairment), (Steptoe and Fancourt, 2019; Kim et al., 2019; Cohen et al., 2016; Sutin et al., 2021) and mortality. (Kim et al., 2022; Cohen et al., 2016; Hill and Turiano, 2014; Alimujiang et al., 2019)

It is theoretically possible that the health impacts of purpose differ by key demographic characteristics because socio-environmental factors that block the intermediate pathways linking purpose and enhanced health might be differentially distributed across the demographic groups. For example, higher purpose may lower mortality risk via promoting health behaviors (e.g., physical activity). (Kim et al., 2020a) However, without access to necessary socioenvironmental factors (e.g., adequate infrastructure that enables physical activity such as green space, a safe neighborhood, etc), one may not fully benefit from having higher purpose. A recent study in older adults evaluated three indicators of socioeconomic status (i.e., income, total wealth, educational attainment) as potential effect modifiers of the purpose-mortality association. Results showed that the highest levels of purpose appeared protective against all-cause mortality regardless of SES, while more modest levels of purpose appeared less beneficial health-wise among people with lower SES. (Shiba et al., 2021)

Similarly, gender and race/ethnicity may moderate the impacts of purpose on health because people may have differential access to risks, opportunities, and resources due to gendered and racialized social structures. Thus, people in marginalized identity groups might receive more health benefits from purpose because they have limited access to other health-promoting resources, but purpose is an alternate resource that is more accessible than others. It is important to examine potentially heterogeneous effects of purpose; finding that purpose is associated with favorable health across gender and race/ethnicity groups suggests that the health benefits of purpose are realizable in multiple demographic contexts. Alternatively, finding that purpose is associated with smaller beneficial health effects in specific subgroups would prompt further investigation into the underlying reasons for heterogeneous effects; this additional work could help identify whether and how the health benefits of purpose might become realizable for all. However, research evaluating gender and race/ethnicity as potential effect modifiers is limited.

Only two studies to date have evaluated if the purpose-mortality association is moderated by gender or race/ethnicity, and they reported mixed results. One US-based study of 1238 older adults observed that the purpose-mortality association was not moderated by either gender or race. (Boyle et al., 2009) A second study, conducted in 73,272 middle-aged and older adults in Japan evaluated Ikigai (“what makes life worth living”), which is a distinct but close conceptual cousin to purpose. This study reported that the Ikigai-mortality association was stronger in men than in women. (Tanno et al., 2009) These studies contribute substantially to the literature, but some limitations remain unaddressed. First, the only study to evaluate effect modification by race/ethnicity was conducted in a sample with a small number of case counts in the different race/ethnicity groups; thus, it might have been underpowered. Second, the study of Ikigai and mortality was conducted with a culturally and racially homogenous population, and some evidence suggests that associations between psychological factors and health outcomes are not universally observed across different cultures. (Kitayama and Park, 2021)

Since 2018, I have been studying the realm of “comic-con culture”: fandoms built on comic books, superheroes, science fiction, anime and manga, gaming and cosplay. Based on my surveys and follow-up interviews, I have found that many dedicated fans describe something sacred about their experiences, something beyond entertainment and escapism.

Defining ‘sacred’

What does “sacred” mean, exactly?

A popular starting point is French sociologist Emile Durkheim and his 1912 treatise, “The Elementary Forms of Religious Life.” One of Durkheim’s most enduring legacies is how he defined religion in terms of beliefs and practices about “sacred things” that unify a community. The sacred, he explained, is something a group sets apart as powerful, transcendent and holy, clearly distinguished from the mundane world of everyday affairs.

An attendee dressed as Luke Skywalker poses during New York Comic Con on Oct. 3, 2019. Charles Sykes/Invision/AP

This conception of religion includes gods or the supernatural, but it is not exclusive to them. Other beliefs and practices can be sacred, too. Durkheim’s insights have inspired many scholars, including those who study fan behavior.

In my own work as a sociologist, I organize this concept of the sacred into seven specific dimensions. For example, the sacred is powerful: a potent force that garners respect, fear and awe. The sacred is transcendent: revered and dignified beyond everyday affairs. And the sacred provides meaning: a source of essential values and purpose.

Comic-con culture

For several years, I’ve been distributing surveys at comic conventions on the East Coast of the U.S. and conducting follow-up interviews. The questions gather a variety of data, but also measure whether fans experience their interests as sacred, and in what ways.

The results are striking. While fans certainly enjoy entertainment and escape, their responses also highlight several aspects of how I define “sacredness” – particularly its ability to instill moral values, provide creative inspiration and reinforce communal bonds.

Many fans describe comic-con culture as a source of principles – such as inclusivity, compassion and self-development – that guide their behavior.

Comics “have always focused on issues of justice, inequality, power dynamics, and the ethics around things like use of force, etc., all of which have affected my own feelings and beliefs about ethical behavior,” one respondent shared. Other fans highlighted quotes from “Spider-Man” – “with great power comes great responsibility” – and “Harry Potter”: “We must choose between what is right and what is easy.”

Another respondent spoke about the Jedi: the ancient order of monklike warriors who channel forces of good to help others and maintain peace in the “Star Wars” universe. This universe “personifies how to go about treating the world around me and trying to do ‘the next right thing,’” the fan explained. “The Jedi, though not perfect, help me have a personal code in how I treat people. … If ‘Jedi’ were a real religion I’d probably be an active participant.”

Comic-con culture sparks passion and enjoyment; it is a wellspring of inspiration and creativity. The Japanese genres of anime and manga are “an art form of self-expression and it creates an [outlet] for individuals to express themselves freely,” one person wrote. In particular, they mentioned cosplay, which is short for “costume play”: the faithful recreation of a favorite character from a game, movie or comic, both in dress and mannerisms. Cosplayers are a mainstay of comic conventions, as are cosplay contests.

Another remarked, “being a fan of tabletop RPGs [role-playing games] allows me to create collaborative stories with others. I consider this storytelling powerful and important.”

A cosplayer poses during New York Comic Con on Oct. 4, 2019. AP Photo/Steve Luciano

Comic-con culture enables people to connect with like-minded individuals and forge meaningful relationships around these interests. It can also inspire a strong sense of fellowship.

Highlighting the power of these connections, one respondent said, “as an atheist, there’s not much I believe in. Being a fan has inspired me to believe in people, and that there is some purpose to my life.” Fandom groups “have given me decades-long friendships that span the globe,” another said.

Finally, comic-con culture is a sanctuary; it provides space for fans to be themselves, helps them cope with personal struggles, and inspires hope.

This was a prominent theme. For example, one attendee from Philadelphia divulged mental health issues but explained how his involvement in board-game tournaments and the role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons offered a safe space from anxiety: “I feel like when I’m doing these things, I can really be me. So, it’s more about letting myself be my true self and not feeling, or not caring, about the others around me that are judging me.”

To borrow your chapter heading: why read African climate fiction?

The best reason is of course because there are some great stories out there! African science fiction – as well as fantasy and horror – is hardly a new or recent emergence, but it’s enjoying heightened visibility and popularity.

Oxford University Press

There are exciting examples of great African speculative fiction reaching the mainstream. From Disney’s Iwájú to Nigerian-American novelist Tomi Adeyemi’s bestselling Legacy of the Orisha series to Zambian author Namwali Serpell’s prize-winning novel The Old Drift.

I was drawn into African climate fiction through wonderful stories, such as Nigerian-American writer Nnedi Okorafor’s. But I soon became interested in how these tales challenge a lot of what we think about global climate change politics. I’ve approached them from this perspective. As a researcher on environmental politics rather than as a scholar of African literature.

In the book I’ve tried to use them as a way to evaluate existing climate strategies and to imagine new ways of living in better, climate-changed worlds.

Some scientists and environmental activists have urged novelists and other artists to help them communicate climate science more effectively and persuade people to change their attitudes and behaviours.

There is a case for this, especially given the urgency of the climate crisis. But I’m more interested in the broader and deeper role of stories. Helping us understand who we are and how we get here. Seeing the world from other perspectives, even potentially from nonhuman perspectives. Holding up a mirror to the world we live in and showing us that it is possible to imagine other worlds.

Stories have power. As Nigerian writer Ben Okri warns us:

Beware the stories you read and tell: subtly, at night, beneath the waters of consciousness, they are altering your world.

If this is true, and stories do have power, then it is very important to reflect on which stories we are reading.

This book also emerged from a frustration that most discussions of climate fiction focus on European and North American authors and settings. African climate fiction is fantastic – and yet it is too often ignored or marginalised.

This is worrying, not just in terms of the diversity of perspectives, but because African climate fiction is especially good at showing how past, present and future overlap. And how humanity relates to nonhuman and more-than-human ways of being. It is also very strong in interrogating racism, sexism and other forms of injustice.

What settings do the stories use and when do they play out?

I focus on novels by Lauren Beukes (South Africa), Doris Lessing (Rhodesia/UK), Alistair Mackay (South Africa), Nnedi Okorafor (Nigeria/US), and Tochi Onyebuchi (US).

I examine short stories by Terh Agbedeh (Nigeria), Mame Bougouma Diene (Senegal/France/US), Osahon Ize-Iyamu (Nigeria), Vuyokazi Ngemntu (South Africa), Nnedi Okorafor, Suyi Davies Okungbowa (Nigeria), Chinelo Onwualu (Nigeria), Tlotlo Tsamaase (Botswana) and Jessica Wilson (South Africa).

And I discuss the films Black Panther (US) and Pumzi (Kenya). So there’s a wide range of settings and timeframes. But all of them are set wholly or largely somewhere in Africa, in an altered present or future, near or far.

The stories take us from Johannesburg’s sewers to skyscrapers in utopian Lagos, high-speed railways, flooded slums, and solar-powered barges on the Congo. From futuristic east African compounds to homely eco-villages in the Niger Delta, and deserts from the Sahara to the Kalahari.

Some stories narrate the collapse of carbon-fuelled capitalism, like Okorafor’s The Book of Phoenix or Mackay’s It Doesn’t Have to Be This Way. Others take place hundreds or thousands of years into the future after environmental shifts have changed the face of the planet, like Onwualu’s Letters to My Mother or Lessing’s Mara and Dann.

What political issues do they raise?

I want to show how these stories have implications for how we think about places, time, ecology and politics.

To take just one example: many of these stories – as in science fiction more generally – feature domed cities, enclaves protected from dangerous environments. A striking example is Tsamaase’s digital dystopia in Virtual Snapshots.

Such stories ask us to consider: who is “in” and who is “out”? Are cities and homesteads places of safety or danger? How are the cultures of past societies in these places – the ancestors – reinvented or memorialised? How are these cities shared with nonhuman species?

These climate stories – which I describe, following Okorafor, as Africanfuturist – also challenge how we might think about the heroes and villains of climate change.

In stark contrast to official government climate strategies, these tales don’t pull punches when identifying the bad guys: colonial regimes, hypocritical and imperialistic western governments and corporations, and corrupt “big men” politicians.

Their heroes are diverse, but many are young, black and female. Some are queer, some are disabled or neuro-diverse, many are flawed or outcast. Not all of them are human: there are winged mutants, characters who are more machine than human, and crocodiles, spiders, and an angry swordfish!

These stories can help us think more creatively about forms of political agency for tackling the climate crisis.

What are you hoping readers will take away?

Ultimately, this book hopes to convince readers that stories are political and have power. As Okorafor has said:

Science fiction is one of the greatest and most effective forms of political writing. It is all about the question: what if?

I study human-AI collaboration, and my work focuses on how AI influences decision-making, trust and human agency, all of which came into play during the Vogue controversy.

This new reality is not a cause for doom. However, now that it’s becoming much harder – if not impossible – to tell whether something is created by a human or a machine, it’s worth asking what’s gained and what’s lost from this technology. Most importantly, what does it say about what we truly value in art?

The forensic viewer and listener

In 1950, computer scientist Alan Turing wondered whether a machine could exhibit intelligent behavior indistinguishable from that of a human.

He proposed his famous imitation game. In it, a human judges whether they’re conversing with a person or a computer. If the human can’t tell the difference, the computer passes the test.

For decades, this remained a theoretical benchmark. But with the recent explosion of powerful chatbots, the original Turing Test for conversation has arguably been passed. This breakthrough raises a new question: If AI can master conversation, can it master art?

The evidence suggests it has already passed what might be called an “aesthetic Turing Test.”

AI can generate music, images and movies so convincingly that people struggle to distinguish them from human creations.

In music, platforms like Suno and Udio can produce original songs, complete with vocals and lyrics, in any imaginable genre in seconds. Some are so good they’ve gone viral. Meanwhile, photo-realistic images are equally deceptive. In 2023, millions believed that the fabricated photo of Pope Francis in a puffer jacket was real, a stunning example of AI’s power to create convincing fiction.

Why our brains are being fooled

So why are we falling for it?

First, AI has become an expert forger of human patterns. These models are trained on gigantic libraries of human-made art. They have analyzed more paintings, songs and photographs than any person ever could. These models may not have a soul, but they have learned the mathematical recipe for what we find beautiful or catchy.

Second, AI has bridged the uncanny valley. This is the term for the creepy feeling we get when something looks almost human but not quite – like a humanoid robot or a doll with vacant eyes.

That subtle sense of wrongness has been our built-in detector for fakes. But the latest AI is so sophisticated that it has climbed out of the valley. It no longer makes the small mistakes that trigger our alarm bells.

Finally, AI does not just copy reality; it creates a perfected version of it. The French philosopher Jean Baudrillard called this a simulacrum – a copy with no original.

The AI model in Vogue is the perfect example. She is not a picture of a real woman. She is a hyperreal ideal that no living person can compete with. Viewers don’t flag her as fake because she is, in a sense, more “perfect” than real.

The future of art in a synthetic world

When art is this easy to generate – and its origin this hard to verify – something precious risks being lost.

The German thinker Walter Benjamin once wrote about the “aura” of an original artwork – the sense of history and human touch that makes it special. A painting has an aura because you can see the brushstrokes; an old photograph has an aura because it captured a real moment in time.

AI-generated art has no such aura. It is infinitely reproducible, has no history, and lacks a human story. This is why, even when it is technically perfect, it can feel hollow.

When you become suspicious of a work’s origins, the act of listening to a song or viewing a photograph is no longer simply about feeling the rhythm or wondering what may have existed outside the frame. It also requires running a mental checklist, searching for the statistical ghost in the machine. And that moment of analytical doubt pulls viewers and listeners out of the work’s emotional world.

To me, the aesthetic Turing Test is not just about whether a machine can fool us; it’s a challenge that asks us to decide what we really want from art.

If a machine creates a song that brings a person to tears, does it matter that the machine felt nothing? Where does the meaning of art truly reside – in the mind of the creator or in the heart of the observer?

We are researchers of human development and family studies. We studied Black and Hispanic teens’ experiences with online racial discrimination and found that the most common and effective strategy that parents used to help their teens was active guidance – talking about internet use – rather than monitoring their internet use. Black and Hispanic teens reported fewer symptoms of depression if their parents used this strategy more frequently.

What teens are saying

In our study, we surveyed 356 Black and Hispanic teens between the ages of 12 and 18 across the United States. We asked about their own online experiences as well as those they witnessed of people from their racial group being racially discriminated against. We also asked the teens about their mental health and the strategies parents used to interrupt or manage their internet use.

We found that parents more often employed active guidance to help their teens deal with online racial discrimination. Black and Hispanic teens reported fewer symptoms of depression if their parents used active guidance more frequently.

Parents who use this strategy navigate the appropriate use of social media together with their children. They may offer help when problems arise or initiate open conversations about internet use.

At the core of the success of active guidance might be its support of digital literacy and cultivation of responsible social media behaviors. This empowering parenting practice may also help teens develop autonomy and independence. Importantly, it might also make teens feel connected to and supported by their parents.

Another common strategy is monitoring, and it includes practices such as checking children’s browsing history, messages and social media contacts. Yet, we found that this strategy was not helpful when it came to teens’ mental health. Instead, adolescents in this study who received more parental monitoring suffered more anxiety symptoms. Even more concerning, parental monitoring appeared to exacerbate teens’ depression symptoms from online racial discrimination.

Close monitoring of teens’ internet use can have adverse effects. image: VioletaStoimenova/E+ via Getty Images

How to help teens

Our work helps inform parents, educators and others involved in teen well-being about approaches they can take to support Black and Hispanic teens in navigating social media.

Parents can start conversations with their teens about healthy internet use. Parents can encourage teens to share positive and negative online experiences without judgment and reassure them that they can come to their parents if they run into trouble.

At the same time, parents can avoid excessive monitoring, especially if their child feels their autonomy is being invaded. If you believe monitoring is necessary, explain your reasoning clearly and work with your child on establishing a monitoring plan.

Educators can offer seminars on digital literacy for parents and children, equipping families with tools to navigate online spaces more safely. Mental health professionals can consider clients’ online experiences as part of their assessments and treatments, and they can also develop family-based interventions that promote adolescent well-being while counteracting online racism. Educators and professionals could collaborate to establish school and community support groups for teens.

Policymakers can recognize the particular online risks faced by adolescents of color and work to strengthen antidiscrimination policies and enhance protections for children online.

Researchers can investigate coping strategies and resources that empower Black and Hispanic teens and their parents, and evaluate their effectiveness in supporting adolescent well-being.

Next steps

We plan to explore how social media affects Black and Hispanic teens in three main ways. First, we want to see how online discrimination actually reaches and hurts minority teenagers. We want to understand how unfair treatment online, such as targeted harassment and biased algorithms, makes existing problems worse for these young people.

Second, it would be interesting to follow students over time to see how online experiences affect their grades, mental health, well-being and friendships in the long run.

In 1733, the Danish West India-Guinea Company purchased St. Croix from France and quickly expanded the island’s sugar and cotton production. This also meant expanding the slave population to harvest lucrative plantations. But the Danes were never able to fully control the island – or the enslaved. By the end of the 1700s, nearly 1,400 people – more than 10% of the enslaved population – successfully escaped captivity. But where did they escape to? Only recently have researchers started to shed more light on this centuries-old mystery.

As an archaeologist specializing in slavery and resistance, I’ve excavated plantations in the Americas and used geographic information systems to model Maroon escape routes by sea. Recently, I turned my attention to Maroon settlements on land, working with a team of archaeologists to locate Maronberg.

Maroon Ridge on St. Croix is believed to have been home to hundreds of escaped enslaved people from 1733-1848. Justin Dunnavant, CC BY

Honoring a legacy

I first learned about Maronberg on a nature tour of St. Croix given by local activist and University of the Virgin Islands professor Olasee Davis in 2016. At that time, I was on the island to excavate a sugar plantation, a project that gave my colleagues and me a unique perspective on the enslaved experience in the Danish-controlled Caribbean.

In August 2025, Davis’ decades-long campaign to create an official heritage sanctuary to protect Maronberg finally came to fruition. The local government purchased 2,386 acres of land to serve as the U.S. Virgin Islands Maroon Territorial Park.

But one problem remains: We have yet to find the physical remains of the settlement. Locating and preserving Maronberg’s historical artifacts and buildings could provide new insight into residents’ way of life and give greater meaning to the sanctuary.

Fortunately, advanced computer modeling and high-resolution maps are helping us get closer to pinpointing the settlement.

Finding what was meant to remain hidden

Many Maroon settlements in the Americas have proved difficult to locate. This makes sense when you consider that their inhabitants were trying to hide from colonial settlers. If the Danes had found Maronberg, they would have either killed its inhabitants or forced them back into slavery.

Runaways tended to settle in areas that were intentionally difficult to access, like remote swampy or mountainous terrain. Houses and other shelters often consisted of semipermanent structures so that Maroons could relocate as needed to avoid detection.

The boundaries of Maronberg and the size of the settlement along the northwestern mountain range remain unknown. Colonial militias attempted periodic raids, but historical records report that they were met with rugged terrain, booby traps and counterattacks.

The missionary Oldendorp wrote: “[The Maroons] keep every approach safe by attempting carefully to conceal small, pointed stakes of poisoned wood so that the unwary pursuer might wound his foot on them and therefore be prevented from continuing the chase as a result of the unbearable pain.”

All those precautions paid off: The Danes were never able to penetrate the Maroons’ encampment.

Using new tech to see 300 years into the past

Recent attempts by researchers to locate Maronberg began in 2007, with more extensive geographic information systems mapping conducted in 2008. These digital, computer-based geographic programs allow researchers to store a range of geological data and model spatial patterns across vast terrains.

Pairing a historical map with a low-resolution elevation map from the U.S. Geological Survey, archaeologist Bo Ejstrud created a predictive model to assess the probable location of the Maroon settlement. He considered elevation, slope and colonial infrastructure to identify the most remote areas of St. Croix with the least visibility from colonial lines of sight.

Back in the 1700s, urban centers accounted for only a small percentage of the overall landmass of the 83-square-mile (215-square-kilometer) island. Much of the land was either plantations or uninhabited forests and mountains. Ejstrud’s model reaffirmed the likelihood of a Maroon settlement in the northwest region. But it left us with a massive survey area. The map also didn’t account for the possibility that the settlement moved over time.

In 2020, I teamed up with archaeologists Steven Wernke, from Vanderbilt University’s Spatial Analysis Research Laboratory, and Lauren Kohut, from Winthrop University’s Geospatial Environmental Modeling Lab. Together, we developed and visualized a more dynamic model using advances in mapping since 2008.

We began by digitizing two of the most detailed colonial maps of St. Croix – one from 1750 and another from 1799. These maps, created by Danish military engineers and surveyors, detail the spread of plantations, roads and settlements over time.

Next, in order to build a digital elevation model of the island’s terrain, we incorporated high-resolution light detection and ranging, or lidar, data collected by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Whereas traditional digital elevation models can be skewed by dense vegetation and trees, lidar uses laser pulses that penetrate through the forest canopy to map the Earth’s surface. This technology allows us to analyze some of the most secluded, inaccessible areas on the island. Prior to 2013, lidar was too costly for archaeological research purposes. But these days, it’s built into many cellphones.

By layering these datasets in geographic information systems software, we created a suitability model that estimated where Maroon settlements were most likely to have existed. In addition to isolation and visibility, we also incorporated accessibility to water sources and terrain ruggedness to model the degree of mobility through the landscape.

This approach allowed us to simulate how the opportunities and constraints the landscape offered to people seeking refuge shifted as colonial society grew over time.

The red areas indicate where on St. Croix that Maroons may have settled. The area shrank between 1750 and 1799, as the Danish settlers spread out. Lauren Kohut, Steven A. Wernke and Justin Dunnavant, CC BY

Mapping changes

In addition to providing more nuance to the picture of the areas where Maroons potentially settled, our research suggests that the Maroon settlement wasn’t static, but likely waned as colonial infrastructure increased on the island. Our model implies that the area of suitable land for clandestine Maroon communities shrank by more than 90% in just 50 years.

It’s possible that over time there were fewer runaways. More likely, more Maroons left the island by boat for destinations such as Puerto Rico and Tortola.

Where we go from here

Though our findings still don’t provide an exact location for Maronberg, they get us one step closer to locating the physical remains of this centuries-old Maroon community. The next step will be to visit these sites and survey them for evidence of historical settlement. Archaeological research at these sites would help us understand more about the Maroons who turned a rugged landscape into a sanctuary for freedom.

I saw the first film in a theater. This was an experience where my Mom dropped me off, told me not to leave the building when the movie was done, gave me TWENTY DOLLARS, and moved on. I'd already seen Star Wars, years earlier. but this was diferent. I chose this movie. nobody else wanted to see it. I went to a theater in Downtown Brooklyn. I think there were like ten people in the theater with me. I felt like I was in a secret club, Whatever this "computer" stuff was, it was special. I came home, and decided I wanted a computer. I was already a gamer, but I was inspired to be like Kevin Flynn. I figured if a guy could get fired from his job and be able to afford to have his own arcade? That had to pay some good money.

Anyway, I know I talk about Star Trek non-stop, but "Tron" changed the game for me. I DO have a copy of Tron2.0. I DO own every Tron video game ever made. I DO own Tron comics. the Wendy Carlos score on wax and CD. I DO own the Daft Punk and remix albums. Fast forward to 2010, I worked at Disney. My little local office got to host a local screening of Tron: Legacy. I think I still have some Flynn Lives shirts around here. I definitely have Identity discs and some lightcycle models. Time to bring 'em back out.