Original Star Trek Quotes

so who's more adult- somebody who works like mad to avoid a problem or somebody who works like mad to solve it?

Venkat was silent for a moment. “Jack, I’m going to buy your whole team autographed Star Trek memorabilia.” “I prefer Star Wars,” he said, turning to leave. “The original trilogy only, of course.

Doctors couldn't be everywhere, so the Lord invented Vulcans. I thought you knew.

The spear in the Other's heart is the spear in your own: you are he. There is no other wisdom, and no other hope for us but that we grow wise. -attributed to Surak

Askade took the battertoast, looked at it blearily. "I can't rewire it into a death ray without some extra parts," he said, and took a bite. "Hm. Tastes okay. What's the problem?

Technology would have long ago made privacy impossible, except that this had only made it more precious and desirable--and in the close confines of starship life, respect for another's privacy had become a powerful tradition.

Sometimes, parody or pastiche shows a deeper love for the original source material than a hundred official sequels ever could. In forty years, has there really ever been a better Star Trek movie than Galaxy Quest--or a better Fantastic Four movie than The Incredibles?

If death is truly a curse,' Spock said, as soberly as some power pronouncing a hundred years of sleep, but with a glint of private, serene humor in his eyes. 'There is little logic in condemning something one has not experienced...or does not remember experiencing.

Kagan's law of first contact,'You'll surprise you more than they will.

Just like that?” “Just like that!” Venkat was silent for a moment. “Jack, I’m going to buy your whole team autographed Star Trek memorabilia.” “I prefer Star Wars,” he said, turning to leave. “The original trilogy only, of course.

You have no tail!" said Brightspot. her own whipped suddenly forward; she stared, first at it, then at Wilson."How do you manage?

A ship doesn't look quite the same from inside, does it? A wise sailor,' Robert said, fanning his arms, 'will one time stand upon the shore and watch his ship sail by, that he shall from then on appreciate not being left behind.' He grinned and added, 'Eh?' George gave him a little grimace. 'Who's that? Melville? Or C.S. Forrester?' It's me!' Robert complained. "Can't I be profound now and again?' Hell, no.' Why not?' Because you're still alive. Gotta be dead to be profound.' You're unchivalrous, George.

With four-to-one odds against us, our ability to leave the encounter without serious damage becomes seriously impaired." "Spock," McCoy said gently, "your bedside manner is flawless. You mean, we're all going to be blown to hell." Spock hesitated, then nodded.

There is nothing little,” she said with great dignity, “about my husband.” Sarek did not at first understand the amused ripple that went through the crowd of reporters standing around. Certainly he was tall by Earth standards. He had to have it explained to him,

Sarek looked up with something like hope in his eyes. “I must say,” he said, “I am impressed. You are quite a detective, Doctor.” “All doctors are detectives. All the ones worth their salt, anyway. . . .” “I will get you as much salt as you want, Doctor,” Sarek said,

Sarek frowned. "Insubordination?" "Eccentricity," Spock replied. "Captain Kirk allows a great deal of leeway as long as his crewmembers do their jobs well. Mr. Chevron simply takes advantage of it." "That good at his job, is he?" asked Sarek. "Indeed. Extremely good.

Go maire tu' I bhfad agus rath! 'Live long and prosper'.

Blew it up his nose. That woman should have cards printed: 'Dr. Evan Wilson, Imaginative Medicine a Specialty.

Jack, I’m going to buy your whole team autographed Star Trek memorabilia.” “I prefer Star Wars,” he said, turning to leave. “The original trilogy only, of course.

Men who like Star Trek but not Star Wars, or the other way around. As if they’re so incredibly different. Or who only like the original Star Trek.

Jack, I’m going to buy your whole team autographed Star Trek memorabilia.” “I prefer Star Wars,” he said, turning to leave. “The original trilogy only, of course.” “Of course,” Venkat said.

Spock," (Kirk) said, "you're a sight for sore eyes!" "I fail to understand, Captain, what bearing my presence could possibly have on the condition of your vision... but I am pleased to see you.

That is the past. It has already occurred. Its only existence now is as a source of wisdom and motivation. Learn from your pain, your guilt toward your past actions. Let it guide your choices in the future.

One of the creatures in the front circle shook itself all over and, still shaking, moved very, very slowly toward Spock. He didn't move a muscle. The creature put out a long slender pseudopod, gleaming in the sunshine like suddenly blown glass, and poked Spock's boot with it. Then it made the scratchy sound again, more laughter, and said a word: "Gotcha!" It jumped back into place. All the other creatures began to echo the scratch-laughter. Spock looked around him in mild bemusement. "Captain," he said, "I suspect we have found a kindergarten...

A couple of minutes later, the turbolift doors hissed open. Spock was standing in the turbolift. He had the air of a man who had been in an extreme hurry, but who had been stopped in midrush and given something he didn't understand. He was holding a small flat cushion.

there is very little 'of course' when it comes to custom

Not even Spock had stayed aboard for that—he found breathing vacuum for any length of time to be aesthetically unpleasant.

No — other men's eye's don't do anything for me, I'm afraid." Sulu grinned.

You set, Bones?" "Ouch," McCoy said. "I assume that pun was meant to make me feel better, or else accidental.

At any rate, after five years Surak came out of the wilds, took a small apartment in the capital, near his parents’ house, and began to write for the information networks.

The Spear in the Other's heart is the spear in your own: you are he.

[...] Can any one man be worth an entire universe?" The Vulcan's response was direct and without hesitation. "Yes. [...]

Never underestimate small things, Captain, they have to be meaner than larger ones to survive.

Friends are friends,” Brightspot said, “whether I’ve known them for a long time or a short time.

McCoy: Representing the High Tier...Leonard James Akaar. Spock: The child was named Leonard James Akaar? Kirk nods. McCoy: Has a kind of a ring to it don't you think, James? Kirk: Yes, I think it is a name that will go down in galactic history, Leonard. What do you think, Spock? Spock: I think you both will be insufferably pleased with yourselves for at least a month...sir.

He came back the next day, and the next, and the day after that, and they argued. The arguments always started about the binding itself, but then they began to stray out into more interesting topics--the relationships and interrelationships in their families, the politics that went on, and the doings of the kingdoms and lordships of the world; and finally, about themselves, or rather, each other. The arguments started early and ended late: it was almost improper. After about three days of this, T'Thelaih realized that she was going to have to be bound to this man, just to have the leisure to argue properly with him.

we're looking for a planeet on the strength of a song. it's crazy I know, but its the only chance we have to do something useful." ...Evan Wilson said gravely "I think you're as crazy as Heinrich Schliemann - and you know what happened to him!" "What" ... "you don't know what happened to him?" she asked her blue eyes widening in astonishment."Ever read Homer's Iliad, Captain?" ... "I don't know what translation you read Doctor, but there was no Heinrich Schliemann in mine - or in the Odyssey." "That depends on how you look at it." smiling she settled back into her chair and went on,"Heinrich Schliemann was from Earth, pre-federation days, and he read Homer too. No, not just read him, believed him. So he set out at his own expense-mind you, I doubt he could have found anyone else to fund such a crazy endeavor - to find Troy, a city that most of the educated people of his time considered pure invention on Homer's part." "And?" "And he found it. Next time you're on earth, stop by the Troy Museum. the artifacts are magnificent, and every one of them was found on the strength of a song.

What about the dissolution transporter?” suggested Ms. Minnian. “Is it still checked out?” “Let’s see.” Doc went over to a card file and flipped through it. “No, it’s back downstairs in the Chresto. Excellent idea.” “What’s a dissolution transporter?” I asked. “Sort of like a fax machine for objects,” said Dr. Rust. “What’s a fax machine, then?” “Oh, you young people!” said Ms. Minnian. “Never mind about the fax,” said Doc. “A dissolution transporter deconstructs an object—in this case, you—taking note of its exact structure and composition. Then it transfers that information to another location, where the object is reassembled from material there.” “Kind of like the transporter on Star Trek except it only works one way,” said Jaya. That sounded alarming. “But if we’re deconstructed here and reassembled someplace else, won’t we turn into other people?” “Technically, yes. But you’ll be other people with the exact same memories. And exact duplicates of your bodies, down to the last quark,” said Ms. Minnian. “Yes, but I’ll be dead! Just because someone else has my memories, that doesn’t mean it’s me!” I objected. “It’s okay, Leo,” said Jaya. “I’ve used the diss tran a zillion times and I still feel like myself.” “Of course you do. You have all of the original Jaya’s memories, so of course you think you’re her. That doesn’t mean you are.” “What makes you so sure you’re the same Leo who went to bed last night?” said Ms. Minnian. “Dissolution transportation is no more discontinuous than falling asleep and waking up again. But you don’t have to go if you’re afraid.

All right, but you know Star Trek, and ‘Beam me up, Scotty’? How they can teleport people around?” “Yeah. The transporters.” “Do you know how they work?” “Just … special effects. CGI or whatever they used.” “No, I mean within the universe of the show. They work by breaking down your molecules, zapping you over a beam, and putting you back together on the other end.” “Sure.” “That is what scares me. I can’t watch it. I find it too disturbing.” I shrugged. “I don’t get it.” “Well, think about it. Your body is just made of a few different types of atoms. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and so on. So this transporter machine, there is no reason in the world to break down all of those atoms and then send those specific atoms thousands of miles away. One oxygen atom is the same as another, so what it does is send the blueprint for your body across the beam. Then it reassembles you at the destination, out of whatever atoms it has nearby. So if there is carbon and hydrogen at the planet you’re beaming down to, it’ll just put you together out of what it has on hand, because you get the exact same result.” “Sure. “So it’s more like sending a fax than mailing a letter. Only the transporter is a fax machine that shreds the original. Your original body, along with your brain, gets vaporized. Which means what comes out the other end isn’t you. It’s an exact copy that the machine made, of a man who is now dead, his atoms floating freely around the interior of the ship. Only within the universe of the show, nobody knows this. “Meanwhile, you are dead. Dead for eternity. All of your memories and emotions and personality end, right there, on that platform, forever. Your wife and children and friends will never see you again. What they will see is this unnatural photocopy of you that emerged from the other end. And in fact, since transporter technology is used routinely, all of the people you see on that ship are copies of copies of copies of long-dead, vaporized crew members. And no one ever figures it out. They all continue to blithely step into this machine that kills one hundred percent of the people who use it, but nobody realizes it because each time, it spits out a perfect replacement for the victim at the other end.

In Star Trek, for example, people regularly travel by a transporter beam which “dematerializes” them in one place for reassembly at another. But would such a beam need to carry the atoms of the original person or just information about those atoms? In several episodes of the series, the transporter goes wrong, and produces two persons (or perhaps we should say two bodies) at the destination. This implies that it transports only information, not atoms, and that the travellers’ bodies are destroyed at departure, then created afresh on arrival from new materials according to a transmitted blueprint.

Don’t let the videos fool you, kid. Jim Kirk’s okay, if you don’t mind his eyes pinching your posterior every fifteen minutes, but starship captains have this extraordinary tendency to go ‘round the bend. Garth’s in the booby hatch doing vaudeville impersonations, there was what’s-his-name who nearly started a war on Omega ‘cause he couldn’t tell the cowboys from the commies, I don’t even want to think about the one who thought he was Caesar—” “I thought that was Captain Kirk,” Deedee said, sounding bewildered. “Close, honey, close. When you get right down to it, they’re all—you with me on this one, Rish?” “Swaggering, tin-plated dictators with delusions of godhood,” the two women chorused.

The price of privilege is the moral duty to act when one sees another person treated unfairly. And the least that a person in the dominant caste can do is not make the pain any worse. If each of us could truly see and connect with the humanity of the person in front of us, search for that key that opens the door to whatever we may have in common, whether cosplay or Star Trek, or the loss of a parent, it could begin to affect how we see the world and others in it. Perhaps change the way we hire or even vote. Each time a person reaches across caste and makes a connection, it helps to break the back of caste. Multiplied by millions in a given day, it becomes the flap of a butterfly wing that shifts the air and builds to a hurricane across an ocean. With our current ruptures, it is not enough to not be racist or sexist. Our times call for being pro-African American, pro-woman, pro-Latino, pro-Asian, pro-Indigenous, pro-humanity in all its manifestations. In our era, it is not enough to be tolerant.

He lifted an eyebrow at his self-indulgence, made a note to himself to spend a little extra time in the Disciplines that evening, and moved to the terminal. Its chiming stopped as he touched it: another second and the terminal had read his EEG through his skin, recognizing the pattern. The screen filled with column on column of blue symbology, a list of calls to the flat since he left. Most of them were unimportant compared to the one name and commcode at the far right-hand side of the list, the most recent, the one message that had caused the “urgent” chime. He had rather been hoping that the embassy would not need him further today: but hope was illogical. Life was about dealing with what was. He touched the screen, and the computer dialed the code. He waited a moment or so before speaking. The link was scrambled, and before communications began, the computer had to agree with the one on the other end as to the eighty-digit “satchel” crypton they would use to keep the link secure. He had the utmost confidence in the ciphering process. Ninety-six standard years before, he had invented it. He

All right, but you know Star Trek, and ‘Beam me up, Scotty’? How they can teleport people around?” “Yeah. The transporters.” “Do you know how they work?” “Just … special effects. CGI or whatever they used.” “No, I mean within the universe of the show. They work by breaking down your molecules, zapping you over a beam, and putting you back together on the other end.” “Sure.” “That is what scares me. I can’t watch it. I find it too disturbing.” I shrugged. “I don’t get it.” “Well, think about it. Your body is just made of a few different types of atoms. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and so on. So this transporter machine, there is no reason in the world to break down all of those atoms and then send those specific atoms thousands of miles away. One oxygen atom is the same as another, so what it does is send the blueprint for your body across the beam. Then it reassembles you at the destination, out of whatever atoms it has nearby. So if there is carbon and hydrogen at the planet you’re beaming down to, it’ll just put you together out of what it has on hand, because you get the exact same result.” “Sure. “So it’s more like sending a fax than mailing a letter. Only the transporter is a fax machine that shreds the original. Your original body, along with your brain, gets vaporized. Which means what comes out the other end isn’t you. It’s an exact copy that the machine made, of a man who is now dead, his atoms floating freely around the interior of the ship. Only within the universe of the show, nobody knows this. “Meanwhile, you are dead. Dead for eternity. All of your memories and emotions and personality end, right there, on that platform, forever. Your wife and children and friends will never see you again. What they will see is this unnatural photocopy of you that emerged from the other end. And in fact, since transporter technology is used routinely, all of the people you see on that ship are copies of copies of copies of long-dead, vaporized crew members. And no one ever figures it out. They all continue to blithely step into this machine that kills one hundred percent of the people who use it, but nobody realizes it because each time, it spits out a perfect replacement for the victim at the other end.” I

The last refuge of the Self, perhaps, is “physical continuity.” Despite the body’s mercurial nature, it feels like a badge of identity we have carried since the time of our earliest childhood memories. A thought experiment dreamed up in the 1980s by British philosopher Derek Parfit illustrates how important—yet deceiving—this sense of physical continuity is to us.15 He invites us to imagine a future in which the limitations of conventional space travel—of transporting the frail human body to another planet at relatively slow speeds—have been solved by beaming radio waves encoding all the data needed to assemble the passenger to their chosen destination. You step into a machine resembling a photo booth, called a teletransporter, which logs every atom in your body then sends the information at the speed of light to a replicator on Mars, say. This rebuilds your body atom by atom using local stocks of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and so on. Unfortunately, the high energies needed to scan your body with the required precision vaporize it—but that’s okay because the replicator on Mars faithfully reproduces the structure of your brain nerve by nerve, synapse by synapse. You step into the teletransporter, press the green button, and an instant later materialize on Mars and can continue your existence where you left off. The person who steps out of the machine at the other end not only looks just like you, but etched into his or her brain are all your personality traits and memories, right down to the memory of eating breakfast that morning and your last thought before you pressed the green button. If you are a fan of Star Trek, you may be perfectly happy to use this new mode of space travel, since this is more or less what the USS Enterprise’s transporter does when it beams its crew down to alien planets and back up again. But now Parfit asks us to imagine that a few years after you first use the teletransporter comes the announcement that it has been upgraded in such a way that your original body can be scanned without destroying it. You decide to give it a go. You pay the fare, step into the booth, and press the button. Nothing seems to happen, apart from a slight tingling sensation, but you wait patiently and sure enough, forty-five minutes later, an image of your new self pops up on the video link and you spend the next few minutes having a surreal conversation with yourself on Mars. Then comes some bad news. A technician cheerfully informs you that there have been some teething problems with the upgraded teletransporter. The scanning process has irreparably damaged your internal organs, so whereas your replica on Mars is absolutely fine and will carry on your life where you left off, this body here on Earth will die within a few hours. Would you care to accompany her to the mortuary? Now how do you feel? There is no difference in outcome between this scenario and what happened in the old scanner—there will still be one surviving “you”—but now it somehow feels as though it’s the real you facing the horror of imminent annihilation. Parfit nevertheless uses this thought experiment to argue that the only criterion that can rationally be used to judge whether a person has survived is not the physical continuity of a body but “psychological continuity”—having the same memories and personality traits as the most recent version of yourself. Buddhists

Live Long and Prosper

Things,” she said, “notice.” It did, in fact, begin as a joke, one that other species share. Have you noticed, she said, that when you really need something—the key to your quarters, a favorite piece of clothing—you can’t find it? You search everywhere, and there’s no result. But any other time, when there’s no need, the thing in question is always under your hand. This, said the nameless contributor, is a proof that the universe is sentient, or at least borderline-sentient: it craves attention, like a small child, and responds to it depending on how you treat it—with affection, or annoyance. For further proof, she suggested that a person looking for something under these circumstances should walk around their quarters, calling the thing in question by its name. It always turns up. (Before the reader laughs, by the way, s/he is advised to try this on the next thing s/he loses. The technique has its moments.) The

Things existed and so had a right to nobility, a right to be honored and appreciated, as much as more sentient things that walked around and demanded the honor themselves. Things had a right to names: when named, and called by those names, of course they would respond positively—for the universe wants to be ordered, wants to be cared for, and has nothing to fulfill this function (said another contributor) but us. Or (said a third person) if there are indeed gods, we’re their tool toward this purpose. This is our chance to be gods, on the physical level, the caretakers and orderers of the “less sentient” kinds of life. More than nine thousand people, from Gorget and other ships, added to this written tradition as time went by: they wrote letters, dissertations, essays, critiques, poems, songs, prose, satire. It was the longest-running conversation on one subject in the history of that net. The contribution started two years after the departure from Vulcan, and continued without a missed day until seventy-eight years thereafter, the day the core of the computer in question crashed fatally, killing the database.

He once reduced the President of the United States—then a ceremonial post, but one much loved by people who lived within the old borders—to tears of laughter at a state dinner, by delivering a learned dissertation on computer data storage technology in a flawless Texan accent. The lady was later heard to propose an amendment to the Constitution to allow off-worlders to hold high public office, so that she could have him for her running mate in the next election. It

Jim chuckled. “All right. Listen, can you get me an uplink to the ship from there? I want a look at the BBS.” Spock thought a moment. “That should be no problem. Wait a moment.” His fingers danced over the keys. McCoy

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Ready, Captain,” Spock said. “It will be wanting your password.” Jim sat down and tapped at the keyboard for a moment, giving the command to find out whether he had any messages waiting. The computer screen said: (1) COMMON ROOM Jim changed areas. He typed: Read message. FROM: Llarian TO: Jas. T. Kirk DATE: 7468.55 SUBJECT: Further Advice Those

Starfleet’s desire is to find an ‘antidote’ or countermeasure that will make the Sunseed routines essentially useless, and to disseminate that information freely to every inhabited star system. They want to teach every vulnerable system a way to make both ships and planets effectively immune to the routine, able to stop it as soon as someone starts to use it.” Ael

Vulcan has no moon,” various Vulcans have been heard to remark: accurate as always, when speaking scientifically. “Damn right it doesn’t,” at least one Terran has responded: “it has a nightmare.” T’Khut

He knew, with unwavering certainty, that just like organic beings, artificial ones had the same capacity to bring goodness into the universe, as much as they could do the opposite. The nature of a sentient being’s origin did not matter. It was the expression of that life that created light or darkness.

Kaden pointed upstairs. “I am not tired either. Let us converse as well. I know many glorious lies of battle.

They don’t have any real power, though,” Sanchez said. “They’re not tyrants.” “Are you trying to tell me that somebody who names you ‘Princess Deedee the First’ isn’t a tyrant?

What a starship needs is a bar, Kirk thought. A nice lounge somewhere, maybe forward where there’d be a good view, a few tables, a place to go and relax off duty. Perhaps he’d suggest it in his next report.

49.​TRUE OR FALSE: 2006’S CASINO ROYALE WAS THE FIRST BOND MOVIE THAT COULD BE WATCHED IN CHINA. True. It was the first film in the James Bond series that the Chinese censor board approved. 50.​TRUE OR FALSE: THE FIRST INTERRACIAL KISS IN TELEVISION HISTORY HAPPENED ON STAR TREK. True. Although the network originally didn’t want to air it, William Shatner reportedly sabotaged all of the other shoots, forcing the network to run the kiss. 51.​TRUE OR FALSE: THE FIRST TELEVISION COMMERCIAL EVER WAS A CAR COMMERCIAL. False. It was actually a commercial for watches, and it aired in 1941. 52.​TRUE OR FALSE: ACTOR JIM CAVIEZEL WAS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING WHILE PORTRAYING JESUS IN THE PASSION OF THE CHRIST. True. Caviezel suffered a large number of calamities during the filming, but this one seemed like a bit of an omen. 53.​TRUE OR FALSE: BRYAN ADAMS’ FAMOUS SONG “SUMMER OF ‘69” IS NAMED AFTER THE SEX POSITION, NOT THE YEAR. True. In fact, Adams was just 9 years old during the summer of 1969. 54.​TRUE OR FALSE: THE ROLLING STONES PERFORMED IN BACK TO THE FUTURE 3. False. But ZZ Top did! 55.​TRUE OR FALSE: THE WORD “FUCK” WAS ONCE SAID OVER 1,000 TIMES IN ONE MOVIE. False. But Swearnet: The Movie came close with the word appearing 935 times—a record amount! 56.​TRUE OR FALSE: BATTLEFIELD EARTH WAS WRITTEN BY THE FOUNDER OF SCIENTOLOGY. True. L. Ron Hubbard was a well-known science fiction writer in addition to being the founder of Scientology.

I’ve always had this feeling that there should be some loud noise when that happens,” Jim said to Harb. “A bang, or a thunderclap or something.

Kirk pressed the Call key again. “Speaking of language, Bones, what was that about ‘novelty’” “Oh … well, Jim, I was just making an observation about the large number of women in Starfleet who turn out to be your old acquaintances.” “Aw, Bones …” “It’s almost as amazing as the number of those old flames who wind up on board the Enterprise.” “… what can I say?” The lift arrived. As they entered, Spock said, “Dr. McCoy has a valid statistical point—

And you must be the ambassador.” “Charlotte Sanchez, UFP Diplomatic Service. Pleased.” “Why?” Flyter said innocently. Without missing a beat, Sanchez said “Because meeting new individuals gives me great intellectual pleasure. That’s why I became a diplomat.” “Oh, good! There are almost fourteen thousand of us, you know. We should be able to make you really, really happy.

She suggested writing about the 1969 moon landing, so I Googled it, and I found out lots of people didn’t really care that there were men walking on the moon. They all watched Star Trek (the original, old lousy-special-effects Beam Me Up Scotty Star Trek) and they were used to seeing Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock hopping around the universe so real people walking on the real moon wasn’t as exciting. I think that’s funny. Men were walking on the moon for the very first time in history and people preferred watching Dr. McCoy say, “He’s dead, Jim,” for the thousandth time.

After a time you may find that having, is not so pleasing a thing after all, as wanting.

MICHAEL PILLER As soon as I started, I said, “I need to see every script, every abandoned story, and every submitted piece of material that’s sitting around, because I have to have something to shoot next week.” Somebody gave me a script called “The Bonding,” by a guy named Ron Moore who was about to go into the Marines, and it was a very interesting story about a kid whose mother goes down on an away mission and gets killed. The kid is obviously torn apart by the death of his mother, and seeing how much he’s suffering, aliens provide him with a mother substitute. The writing was rough and amateurish in some ways, but I thought it had real potential to tell an interesting story. I went to Gene and pitched him the story, and he said it didn’t work. I asked him why, and he said, “Because in the twenty-fourth century, death is accepted as a part of life, so this child would not be mourning the death of his mother. He would be perfectly accepting of the fact that she had lived a good life, and he would move on with his life.” I went back to the writing staff and told them what Gene had said, and they sort of smirked and said, “Ah-ha, you see? Now you know what we’ve been going through.” I said, “Wait a minute, let’s think about it. Is there any way we can satisfy Gene’s twenty-fourth-century rules and at the same time not lose the story that we have to shoot on Tuesday?” I finally said, “Look, what if this kid has in fact been taught all of his life not to mourn the death of his loved ones, because that’s what society expects of him? He’s taught that death is a part of life, so he loses his mother and doesn’t have any reaction at all. That’s what Gene is telling us has to happen. Well, that is freaky, that is weird, and that’s going to feel far more interesting on film than if he’s crying for two acts. What if the aliens who feel guilty about killing his mother provide him with a mother substitute and the kid bonds with this mother substitute, and it’s Troi who goes to Picard and says, “We have a problem? The kid is not going to give up this mother substitute until he really accepts and mourns the death of his real mother, and we’re going to have to penetrate centuries of civilization to get to the emotional core of this kid in order to wake up his emotional life.” So the show becomes a quest for emotional release and the privilege of mourning. Well, Gene loved the idea. It respected his universe and at the same time turned a fairly predictable story on its ear, and it became a far better story and episode than it would have if Gene had simply signed off on the original pitch. SANDRA

Espaço: a fronteira final. Estas são as viagens da nave estelar Enterprise. Em sua missão de cinco anos... para explorar novos mundos... para pesquisar novas vidas... novas civilizações... audaciosamente indo onde nenhum homem jamais esteve”.

Jornada nas Estrelas – Todas as Curiosidades da Série Clássica e Original de STAR TREK” “M.

Leave any bigotry in your quarters. There's no room for it on the bridge. - James T. Kirk, Balance of Terror

Defeat comes only when there are no further alternatives.

Vulcan. A desert world, limited in material resources, yet limitless in the intellectual and philosophical achievements of its inhabitants.

A few paces away, Spock paused. He looked up into the deep sky. "I have been …" he said. At his strained and tortured voice, Jim moved instinctively toward him. " … and always shall be … your friend. . . ." "Yes," Jim whispered. "Yes, Spock." Spock half turned. "The ship," he said. "Out of danger …?" "You saved the ship, Spock. You saved us all! Don't you remember?" Spock said nothing for a moment. He cocked his head, as if listening to some far-away inner voice. He arched his eyebrow and slowly faced Jim Kirk. "Jim," he said softly. "Your name is Jim." "Yes!" Jim's voice broke, and he caught his breath. Spock nodded once, briefly, as if acknowledging to himself that he had found the proper path. He glanced at McCoy, and then at the others.

She probably also didn’t know the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek.

You'd think that being on planes 150 days a year would free up lots of time for writing, but instead it freed up time for listening to Reinhold Niebuhr audiobooks, watching leftist YouTube videos, and going through every single episode of Star Trek, from the original series through Discovery.

Finding the right mentor is not always easy. But we can locate role models in a more accessible place: the stories of great originals throughout history. Human rights advocate Malala Yousafzai was moved by reading biographies of Meena, an activist for equality in Afghanistan, and of Martin Luther King, Jr. King was inspired by Gandhi as was Nelson Mandela. In some cases, fictional characters can be even better role models. Growing up, many originals find their first heroes in their most beloved novels where protagonists exercise their creativity in pursuit of unique accomplishments. When asked to name their favorite books, Elon Musk and Peter Thiel each chose “Lord of the Rings“, the epic tale of a hobbit’s adventures to destroy a dangerous ring of power. Sheryl Sandberg and Jeff Bezos both pointed to “A Wrinkle in Time“ in which a young girl learns to bend the laws of physics and travels through time. Mark Zuckerberg was partial to “Enders Game“ where it’s up to a group of kids to save the planet from an alien attack. Jack Ma named his favorite childhood book as “Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves“, about a woodcutter who takes the initiative to change his own fate. … There are studies showing that when children’s stories emphasize original achievements, the next generation innovates more.… Unlike biographies, in fictional stories characters can perform actions that have never been accomplished before, making the impossible seem possible. The inventors of the modern submarine and helicopters were transfixed by Jules Vern’s visions in “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” and “The Clippership of the Clouds”. One of the earliest rockets was built by a scientist who drew his motivation from an H.G. Wells novel. Some of the earliest mobile phones, tablets, GPS navigators, portable digital storage desks, and multimedia players were designed by people who watched “Star Trek” characters using similar devices. As we encounter these images of originality in history and fiction, the logic of consequence fades away we no longer worry as much about what will happen if we fail… Instead of causing us to rebel because traditional avenues are closed, the protagonist in our favorite stories may inspire originality by opening our minds to unconventional paths.

Among the best elements of Star Trek since the original series have been characters that Gene Roddenberry believed held a mirror up to humanity.

The drive to convert people's minds and hearts has caused more grief, more suffering, more loss of life than any desire for property, riches, or even the necessities of survival.

Sarek: Do you have a message for your mother? Spock: Yes. Tell her I feel fine. Spock: Live long and prosper, Father. Sarek: Live long and prosper, my son.

Is it logical,” Kirk said, using the word cannily, “to assume the ship was stolen by a full-capacity crew?” “No, sir.” Spock tipped his head. “Her crew complement is five hundred. The odds against so many people developing leftist attitudes simultaneously, at one starbase, without a leak, are nine thousand—” “About the same odds as your giving us an answer without decimal points,” McCoy barbed. “I think we’ve been baited.

No matter the planet of origin, parentage, past misdeeds or present challenges-we have to assume that our success or failures come by every individual's choice.

It was said six hundred years ago by a great man. He said, ‘They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.

I find myself, like many thoughtful citizens, on the horns of the dilemma of being totally opposed to violence but also as totally opposed to allowing certain conditions in our society to continue. I don’t want any J.C. Penney branch store burned and looted, but I deplore even more the original Watts in which human dignity, aspiration, and often even life were impossible! A contempt for law and resort to violence will certainly destroy any social structure, but is a discomforting fact that they are more often a result of something than a cause. ~ Gene Roddenberry Mar 1970 letter

There was a slight pause, as though Spock were steeling himself. “Do you consider my abandonment of Kolinahr to be an embarrassment?” Suddenly Amanda turned and faced her son. “Oh, Spock, no,” she said tenderly.

Spock stared hard at his tricorder, as if by sheer will he might force it to tell him the answer to his questions.

Between gasping breaths, she said earnestly, "I could... almost hear the captain give the command: 'Eyebrows on stun, Mr. Spock...

It must be difficult to treat Mr. Spock when he's ill." "You're right. The combination of human and Vulcan makes it tricky. You should hear Dr. McCoy on the subject; you'd think Mr. Spock's physiology was devised simply to torment him.

It is impossible to work up a satisfactory anger at someone who so steadfastly refuses to reciprocate. You win, Mr. Spock; I give up.

I give her a lot of credit. She's one of the few humans I've met who could resist saying 'I told you so.' " "Such a statement would be quite unnecessary, Captain." "Spock, you've worked with humans long enough to know that simply because something is unnecessary doesn't mean it isn't done.

All right, Spock, I'll bite: why would she take up saber, quarterstaff and eating with chopsticks?" "To extend her reach.

Dr. Wilson, you are incorrigible." Wilson grinned. "Yes, sir, and you're invited to incorrige me all you want, sir.

One good shot at this velocity, and they would be so dead that they wouldn't know anything about it until God tapped them on the shoulder and asked them for identification.

You might think the alien worlds in the original Star Trek look fake. You might think the blinky lights on those old sets are silly. You might not love those oh-so-tight 1960s velour uniforms. But nobody thinks Spock’s pointed ears look bad. The ears are legit. It’s one of those classic Hollywood tricks that should be hugely impressive but somehow isn’t praised enough. Whether the stoic Vulcan is played by Leonard Nimoy, Zachary Quinto, or Ethan Peck, the applause for the most famous fake alien ears is mostly absent. And that’s because the ears work. Praising Spock’s ears would be like praising James Bond’s tailor; you expect Spock to look that way. The believability of Spock’s ears allowed the characters—and by extension the earliest Star Trek—to prevent the entire series from becoming, as Leonard Nimoy had worried in 1964, “a bad sci-fi joke.

And me,” McCoy added, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder where she sat beside him on one of the consoles, her feet dangling several inches off the floor. “And me,” McCoy added, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder where she sat beside him on one of the consoles, her feet dangling several inches off the floor.

He always finds a way to spoil my tun,” McCoy muttered. “What

At east, not yet.

If each of us could truly see and connect with the humanity of the person in front of us, search for that key that opens the door to whatever we may have in common, whether cosplay or Star Trek or the loss of a parent, it could begin to affect how we see the world and others in it, perhaps change the way we hire or even vote. Each time a person reaches across caste and makes a connection, it helps to break the back of caste. Multiplied by millions in a given day, it becomes the flap of a butterfly wing that shifts the air and builds to a hurricane across an ocean.

For heaven’s sake, can’t you relax, Bones?

We hold up iPhones and, if we’re relatively conscious of history, we point out that this is an amazing device that contains a live map of the world and the biggest libraries imaginable and that it’s an absolute paradigm shift in personal communication and empowerment. And then some knob says that it looks like something from Star Trek: The Next Generation, and then someone else says that it doesn’t even look as cool as Captain Kirk’s communicator in the original and then someone else says no but you can buy a case for it to make it look like one and you’re off to the manufactured normalcy races, where nobody wins because everyone goes to fucking sleep.

covered

Spock: Captain, your analysis of the situation was flawless; anticipating that she would deny you admittance. However, the logic by which you arrived at your conclusion escapes me. Kirk: Mr. Spock, the women on your planet are logical. That's the only planet in the galaxy that can make that claim.

Cast out fear. Cast out hate and rage. Cast out greed and envy.

Do no harm to those that harm you. Offer them peace, and offer them peace again, and do it until you die. In this manner you will have peace, one way or the other, even if they kill you. And you cannot give others what you have not experienced.