What Does It Mean To Be Alive?

Television’s latest science fiction series, SyFy’s “Caprica,” begins with a shock.  Several shocks, actually.

Set on the planet Caprica 58 years before the holocaust that started Battlestar Galactica, “Caprica” opens in what looks like some sort of demented nightclub.  The camera pans through scenes of debauchery and violence, writhing nude bodies, shocking violence, and — finally — an act of simulated human sacrifice in front of a frenzied, dancing, cheering crowd.  That image is the first shock.  The second shock is the reaction from three watching teens.  They’re not dancing, they’re not drinking, and they are definitely not enjoying themselves.  Instead, they respond almost like priests, decrying the decadence and offering an almost Christlike, “they know not what they do.”  Stylishly dressed teenage moralists tut tutting the decadence of their peers?  What?

Then comes the third shock.  One of those three teens, from a wealthy family and a wealthy private school, blows himself up on a crowded commuter train — all in the name of the “one, true God.”  When he dies he takes with him one of his friends, Zoe Graystone, also a believer in the “One God” and the child of perhaps Caprica’s greatest technological innovator (think of him as a fictional Bill Gates with cooler toys).

Is this a tale of violent religious fundamentalists versus debauched capitalists?  The opening scenes in what later proves to be just another shoot-em-up in space?  Hardly.  If four thought-provoking seasons of Battlestar Galactica taught sci-fi fans anything, it’s that any show by Ron Moore (also the creative force behind Caprica) is going to be thought-provoking, explore the full range of human emotions, color its moral world in shades of gray, and deal with religious issues with a seriousness never seen before on television.

So what is really going on?  All is not as it seems.  The nightclub at the beginning?  It was a holographic image — a collection of avatars of Caprican teens romping in a kind of (supremely vile) virtual reality playhouse.  What were the trio of teens doing there?  They were testing a new kind of avatar — one that could exist independently of its owner.  In essence, a software “mirror image” that imported all the memories of the actual person and existed independently of that person.  And what of the suicide bombing?  The reason for it is left mysterious, but it appears to be an act of rage against a decadent, polytheistic culture.  The remaining monotheists are aghast at the act and struggling to come to terms with it.

But those are just the preliminaries; the story is driven by two grieving fathers, Daniel Graystone and Joseph Adama.  Both lost their daughters in the bombing and are struggling to hang on to the shards of their lives.  In this atmosphere of utter despair, Daniel logs into Zoe’s computer system, uploads her virtual reality world, and finds her avatar . . . “alive,” with all of his daughter’s memories, his daughter’s personality, and his daughter’s appearance.  Even stranger, this avatar is self-aware and seems to be experiencing real emotion as she grieves for Zoe’s loss and her own loneliness.  Daniel latches on to her as all that remains of his daughter and in fact convinces himself that — in some kind of fundamental, metaphysical way — that she is his daughter, that everything that mattered about her lives on through this image.  

Daniel then brings Joseph into his inner circle, introduces him to Zoe’s technology (and to Zoe), then uses the same technology to create an avatar of Joseph Adama’s daughter.  Joseph walks into the virtual reality world, sees his daughter, and . . .

I don’t want to give it all away, but suffice to say that Joseph Adama’s introduction to his “daughter” is one of the most emotionally shattering moments I’ve seen on film, and not in the way that you’d think.

Caprica isn’t for everyone.  If your idea of sci-fi is fixed around lightsabers, hyperspace, space battles, and cool-looking aliens, this is not the show for you.  I would even say it’s not necessarily a show for sci-fi fans.  It’s a show for people who like it when television challenges them, when it makes them ask big questions — about love, about loss, and about the nature of God.  Ron Moore and his team have captured better than anyone the undeniable thrill of discovering spiritual truth, the heartbreaking fallenness of man, and the challenge of asking “what does it mean to be alive” . . . and not knowing the answer.

Caprica premieres Friday night, January 22.