PluriBSI

 Okay, stick with me on this one. It's gonna be a ramble.

Also, *SPOILER ALERT* if you don't know what the Apple TV show Pluribus is about and are still planning to watch the first episode and find out. If so, come back later, because I'm about to explain the premise a few paragraphs down.

Are spoiler alerts still a thing?

Content warnings, yes. But spoiler alerts?

Anyway, so I watched the third episode of Pluribus just now. If you haven't seen it, it's about a situation where humanity basically becomes a friendly, happy hivemind except for a dozen or so people. And the main character just can't seem to get around to enjoying the situation, even though every single person on Earth except that dozen want to use their shared mind to try to make her happy. And she just doesn't want to be happy.

So I watched that, then I came upstairs and found I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere's latest blog post, "Tips for Making the Most of the BSI Weekend." You know, the BSI Weekend, that week in January when a whole bunch of Sherlockians descend upon New York City to dress up, eat dinner, hob nob, and buy books. You meet what seems like everybody at that time, though it's not really everybody, just people who can get to New York in January, whether because they live close or can afford the trip.

And then Pluribus and the BSI weekend, a.k.a. Sherlock Holmes's birthday weekend, if you're not involved with the Baker Street Irregulars, merged in my head. As when it comes to that particular event, I feel much like Carole, the main character of Pluribus. I just don't want to join the hive mind, as pleasant and inviting as the members of that collective might be. I usually put it down to not being a fan of New York, but it's more than that. It's just too many people, too many places, and too many expectations.

"Bring business cards (a quaint tradition)," Scott Monty writes, "You will be meeting a lot of new people." He's not lying. You meet a ton. And then you will, if you are me, forget you met half of them. Scott has a whole lot of good tips for the neophyte attendee, solid tips. But, at this point in life, far too many of them are also reasons a person like myself might want to avoid the whole thing. And the members of the happy hive mind that do enjoy it, just don't often understand why. So one must always have excuses at the ready. The excuses don't help truly convey your perspective, but excuses do seem to pacify the hive members for long enough to change the subject.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-NYC-birthday-weekend for those who want it.  Things might just get a little too "in the bubble" sometimes, and folks in said bubble can forget that the rest of us don't always see the happy bubble the way they do. 

One morning this week, I breakfasted with a twenty-something fan of many a movie and TV franchise who told me how much he loved BBC Sherlock. Not because I'm a Holmes fan, just because he was rolling through things he really liked. And he loved BBC Sherlock end to end. I then, much to his amusement, told him of the rise of its fandom, its interactions with the traditional Sherlockians, and all the ways it changed lives. He found it fascinating, knowing nothing of Johnlock, original Canon comparisons and Granada, conspiracies borne of fan expectations, or even any problems with that final season. He just loved the show. And was completely outside the bubble. All our Sherlockian bubbles. Except that one basic, "I really like BBC Sherlock bubble" where we could share space and discuss the potential for the series returning as a possible theatrical film. And that was just fine. 

Because those overlapping parts of our personal Venn diagrams are what build community, what keep the hive of humanity working together, as separate and different as we are. Yet in the TV show Pluribus, all of humanity except a dozen or so people aren't just overlapping any more. Their Venn diagram is on solid circle. They all live in exactly the same bubble. And they really want those few who remain outside to be brought into that bubble, and know the true unexplainable joy that they all feel but the main character doesn't. Yet if we all have the same experience, the same intake, we lose something, just as when an AI tries to combine all of our diversity into a created output. (But that's an entirely different discussion.)

As we approach another January, the character of Carol from Pluribus just seems more and more relatable to some of us. And we look forward to February.