Christ, I miss Space Operas; those stunning, camp, grandiose affairs. I yearn once again for cow-pat head aliens, intergalactic treaties and war. Planets ending in the word ‘Prime.’ Shakespearean dramas and philosophical discourses played out in a series of dimly lit corridors. Alien languages that sound like broken Estonian after you’ve had root canal surgery. And most importantly, a sense of boundless optimism; the idea that humanity (and other sentient life) is going places, exploring that boundless, beautiful frontier.
Until as a society we decided humanity was not THE SHIT, just, shit.