3x21 Hollow Pursuits

[7.7/10] It’s rare that we get to see the main characters of a Star Trek show as the bad guys. Sure, sometimes the franchise plays in the realm of “shades of gray”, but by and large, even when morally complicated events are happening it, we experience them through the perspective of the main crew, and so naturally tend to sympathize with them, both from familiarity and having the story rooted in their point-of-view.

And yet, here, Reginald “Broccoli” Barclay is our perspective character, and the senior staff are (nigh-literally) his foils, maybe even his antagonists. The lowly, mumbling, almost preternaturally shy junior officer gets stern treatment and even bullying from the likes of Geordi, Wesley, and especially Commander Riker. We’re used to seeing these folks as the good guys, so putting the audience in the shoes of someone who earns their disfavor, certainly their inconsiderateness, ironically gives us a deeper understanding of our usual heroes, making them feel more like real people.

Right now, those people want Barclay off the Enterprise. The diffident officer can’t show up to work on time, never seems to do his best work, and has trouble connecting with people. His social awkwardness goes so far that Wesley even dubs him “broccoli” -- a frankly puzzling sobriquet that nevertheless stings with its derogatory intent.

On the one hand, you understand Riker and Geordi here, having supposedly tried to give Barclay the leeway and nudges he needs to improve, only now running out of patience. On the other hand, the episode paints him as naturally sympathetic, someone who does seem to be trying, even if he doesn’t have the easy confidence so many in the senior staff seem to possess, particularly when these grown adults are referring to him “clandestinely as a vegetable.” One of the things in “Hollow Pursuits”’s favor is that it approaches its sympathies and perspectives with complexity, rather than painting things as solely black or white.

Thank heaven, though, for Captain Picard, who denies Riker and Geordi’s request to transfer their problem to another ship. Instead, he recognizes Barclay’s potential based on his record and instructs Geordi to do what it takes to unlock it, to treat him like a real person and maybe even a friend to draw out the ways he can contribute to the ship. It speaks to the captain’s wisdom and continued decency, his unwillingness to take the easy way out, and the personal interest and encouragement he offers to his troubled crewman, even when he slips up and uses the “broccoli” insult, shortly after instructing his officers to take it out of their vocabularies.

It’s ironic that he orders Geordi to take a closer interest here, because Barclay’s predicament is a larger-scale version of the one Lt. LaForge went through in “Booby Trap.” In that episode, Geordi had trouble relating to women but found a bit of escape, a place where he could be comfortable and more himself, in the holodeck. Here, both parts of that equation are more extreme for Barclay. He has trouble relating to anyone and thus feels even more isolated than Geordi did, and likewise, his holodeck fantasies are much more deliberate, extensive, and even extreme as a result.

Oh, and they’re also tons of fun! Look, I think “Hollow Pursuits” actually has some pretty profound things to say about ostracism, confidence, fantasy, and escapism. But it’s also just plain entertaining to watch some lower decker rough up senior officers like a discount James Bond, or imagine himself in a vaguely Three Musketeers-inspired land with our usual heroes as “cast members”, or other self-aggrandizing dreamworlds where Barclay can blow off steam, get revenge, and...uh...find release in ways he has trouble with in the real world.

That’s the most intellectually or morally interesting part of the episode. Barclay’s holodeck time doesn’t just involve private detective jaunts or Holmesian pastiches (though it does come with LeVar Burton’s attempt at a British accent). It involves recreations of his fellow crewmembers, in positions that are demeaning, belittling, or even sexual. It’s not wrong for Riker and especially Troi to feel violated by that (and it tracks with Riker’s feelings in “Up the Long Ladder”). A holodeck capable of creating lifelike characters is a new thing in the Star Trek universe, and figuring out where the limits of harmless recreation and moral degradation lie with this tool.

To the point, I’d be skeeved out if I found out a veritable stranger, let alone a coworker, was canoodling with a lifelike recreation of me. But I think most of us would consider it harmless, even natural, for someone to use their imagination to picture themselves telling off their boss or having a sexual dream about someone they knew, so long as they understood the difference between fantasy and reality. I think that’s what “Hollow Pursuits” is going for here -- someone losing themselves in fantasy and having it affect not only how they treat others in real life in deleterious ways, but having it stunt their own development as a person. The holodeck is just supposed to be a more literal way of dramatizing that age-old concern.

Still, it raises the question of where the line is. If holographic recreations are violative and idle fantasies aren’t, what if Barclay had drawn crude stick figure comics where his coworkers all fete him as a bold badass? What if he’d painted erotic art of them? What if he’d shadow-boxed an imaginary version of Riker in his quarters, while shouting insults at the top of his lungs? These examples are admittedly a little silly -- and as with “Booby Trap”, TNG doesn’t really engage with the moral questions it raises here beyond skimming the surface of them or playing them for laughs -- but it does provoke thoughts about them in the proud Trek tradition.

The clearest takeaway from Barclay’s holographic extracurriculars, though, is that he’s letting them interfere with the rest of his life. Geordi, naturally, sympathizes with the guy, having come to know him better and even appreciate what he brings to the table as he’s actually tried to connect with the guy. But he warns him about the dangers of not knowing when to stop and indulging in these fantasies at the expense of pushing yourself to grow.

When Barclay takes that lesson to heart, he proves a critical member of the team. He helps solve the scientific problem of the week, discerning the link between the mysterious events that are threatening the ship. There’s genuine tension when the malfunctions leave the Enterprise thirty seconds from exploding, and great relief, not to mention triumph, when Barclay and Geordi are able to save the day in the nick of time. The respect he earns from his peers, the credit he gets from his commanding officers, and the satisfaction of reaching his potential are enough for Barclay to delete (most of) his holodeck programs in favor of the real world and the more satisfying, if hard-won victories and human connections he can forge there.

As I’ve mentioned in countless Star Trek write-ups, one of the enticing things about these shows is that, with a few exceptions, they’re populated by nerds. But to paraphrase one Star Trek screenwriter, they’re also the Chicago Bulls of nerds: uber-professional, unflappably successful, and confident in their talents and abilities almost to a fault. Aside from the occasional bit of quickly-forgotten friction, they’re all super best friends saving the galaxy together.

But Barclay is a more realistic sort of nerd. He is undoubtedly smart and has meaningful things to contribute, but he can also be painfully awkward. He’s the type of geeky individual who isn’t always as comfortable or clear at expressing himself as he’d like to be, who descends into technological escapes rather than face the difficulties and setbacks of the real world, who needs to learn when to set them aside.

For many of us, Star Trek in its various forms was one of those escapes. The term “Mary Sue” comes from some of the earliest fanfiction where one aspirational Trekkie imagined herself aboard the Enterprise earning the admiration and affections of Captain Kirk and his crew. There’s something inviting about the idea of picturing ourselves as part of this technologically advanced, thoroughly enlightened utopia, and becoming one of those best friends aboard the Federation flagship.

And yet, in “Hollow Pursuits”, the The Next Generation doesn’t project our best nerdy selves on the screen and show them saving the universe. It reflects more down-to-earth geeks struggling with the same social obstacles plenty of Trekkies did, with those peerless officers seeming more like bullies than comrades.

But it ultimately affirms the value of both, encouraging us to see the best in those we have trouble relating to, and showing that the people we resent can be, with the right nudges, the allies and even friends we need to push past those difficulties. There’s a place for everyone on the Enterprise, a value each crewman brings to the table, that can be found only if we’re willing to step outside of ourselves and see the world as they see it, whether or not we have the benefit of a holodeck to help us.