What Deep Space Nine does that no other Star Trek series can
We all have people in our lives who are so important that their deaths would be tragic at an existential level. Recently, one such person in my life almost died. It wasn't one of those things where he narrowly escaped from sniper fire in a starship fight and we could raise a glass of synthahol in Ten Forward afterwards. He was plugged into life support machines for over a week, unconscious, with doctors shaking their heads and urging us to "be patient." Medical staff said completely terrifying things like "I think he'll probably make it."
I had plenty of time to imagine how my life would be utterly different without him. He's part of the family I've found with my circle of nerdy friends, and losing him would be like losing, well, part of my family. Part of me. Every night when I came home from the hospital, there was only one thing I could do that didn't make me want to cry. I watched Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
I never really thought of ST:DS9 as a comforting show, or even a particularly brilliant one. I grew up on Star Trek: The Next Generation, so DS9 is definitely "my" era in Star Trek, and I have hazy memories of enjoying it in college. Still, I never really loved DS9 the way I loved Data and Picard and TNG's ongoing wonky obsession with maintaining the Prime Directive on what Guinan called a "ship of peace." Yet in my darkest emotional hour, DS9 was what did it for me. I think that's because the show combined everyday stories of awfulness and political meltdown with an aggressive hopefulness about the future. Call it Utopia ex machina.
