Pluribus, Vince Gilligan’s new science-fiction series (the creator behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul), is compulsively watchable — and it’s the sort of story that sparks heated conversations. After previewing advance episodes, Polygon staff found ourselves immediately imagining what choices we’d make if we lived in the show’s world — and the answers varied widely.
It’s rare for a piece of entertainment to ignite that kind of collective imagination, so we gathered some of those conversations here and asked readers for their responses as well. Early teasers for Pluribus were intentionally vague about its catalyst; a concise premise follows below.
Editor’s note: basic Pluribus setup spoilers ahead.
In Gilligan’s story, Earth receives an extraterrestrial transmission that contains the blueprint for an RNA molecule. Scientists synthesize it, it contaminates the globe, and humanity is gradually folded into a pleasant, pacifying collective consciousness — except for roughly a dozen immune people scattered around the world, including the show’s protagonist, Carol (Rhea Seehorn). Carol reacts with fear and fury, viewing the phenomenon as an alien takeover that erases individuality.
The collective communicates through the bodies of those it touches, lavishing kindness and comfort while steadily assimilating more minds. It insists everyone it has absorbed remains “alive” and unchanged, though the evidence contradicts that claim: unique personalities vanish and the collective refers to its components in depersonalized phrases like “This individual is named Todd.” Faced with a world where loved ones are simultaneously devoted to your welfare and subsumed into a single placid identity, what would you do?
Staff reactions: what we’d do
Tasha Robinson, Entertainment Editor: The looming threat that the hivemind will eventually absorb you changes everything. Knowing there’s likely a deadline makes me more inclined to throw caution to the wind. I’d prioritize seeing places that matter to me in person — the Louvre, the Pyramids, New Zealand — and do the tourist things I’ve always wanted without worrying about safety or logistics. Even though the collective could grant access to those memories later, I’d want those first-hand experiences to belong to me.
Traveling nonstop alone would probably grow tedious, and I wouldn’t treat hiveminded people as casual companions — their slavish devotion would feel infantilizing. I’d also look for purpose: using my remaining autonomy to help others or pursue projects that make my existence meaningful, even if that means compromising on the abstract notion of “saving humanity.”
Claire Lewis, Games & Entertainment Writer: I’d chase space-adjacent dreams — a trip to the International Space Station, training for a lunar visit if that were an option — because I’ve always been obsessed with flight and space. On Earth, I’d indulge in self-care and luxuries I usually skip: spa treatments, a trainer, maybe a professional pilot’s license with the hivemind’s help. I’d also start a cat rescue operation; with so many people gone or altered, abandoned animals would need care from someone who isn’t part of the collective.
Aimee Hart, Entertainment & Games Writer: I’m with Claire on animal rescue — I’d rescue every stranded pet. I’m also curious whether the hivemind can assimilate animals; if so, I’d want to know what my dogs really think. And, selfishly, I’d consider joining the collective just to sift through the vast well of memories and gossip — the kind of inside knowledge about Hollywood and celebrity that would be irresistible to a pop-culture nerd.
Chris Hayner, Senior Editor: My first impulse is indulgence: top-tier cannabis, a world-class tattoo artist, and a personal chef — ideally Gordon Ramsay, because I want the real thing and the snark. Then I’d swing into bucket-list mode: Japan tops my list — Tokyo DisneySea, Universal Studios Osaka, Sanrio Puroland — and I’d probably relocate to a property where I could care for rescued animals and build ridiculous personal amusements, like a private recreation of a favorite theme-park ride.
Aimee: I’ll echo what Claire and Chris said: I’d rescue animals and indulge my curiosity. I’d also want to exploit the hivemind’s collective memory to revive beloved canceled shows and unfinished creative projects, or to commission a flood of new content from brilliant minds now combined in one consciousness.
Jake Kleinman: Speaking of revivals — I’d resurrect cancelled classics. Reassemble the cast of shows like Freaks and Geeks, mine the memories of creators to learn what the unwritten seasons would have been, and greenlight productions immediately. I’d also have the hivemind draft comedy writers to re-staff beloved animated series and reboot the shows we miss.
Isaac Rouse, Entertainment & Games Writer: I’d start with pleasure (and yes, some of that premium cannabis). Then I’d use the hivemind as an all-knowing resource: dig up secrets — Area 51, cold cases, classified truths — and then reset my brain with something joyful, like a trip to Disney World. I’d also vet the other immune people thoroughly before joining forces: learn everything the hivemind knows about them so I could judge whether they’re trustworthy allies or threats.
Deven McClure, Games & Entertainment Writer: I’d turn the hivemind into a detective and gossip engine — answer true-crime mysteries, harvest the most embarrassing celebrity secrets, and generally treat it as a limitless source of information. And, because I love games, I’d have the collective build my dream The Sims-style title or a brand-new game crafted without corporate constraints.
Across our responses, recurring themes emerged: hedonism and bucket-list adventures; creative projects and cultural resurrections; animal rescue and caretaking; and an urge to pry into hidden knowledge. Some contributors admitted a darker impulse — to take forceful action against the hivemind or against other immunes who might threaten the last remnants of human autonomy.
The scenario Gilligan presents forces a brutally practical question: if the world’s people are content and cooperative but stripped of individuality, is preservation of independent selfhood worth risking everything? Our staff’s answers span the spectrum — from indulgent last hurrahs to attempted resistance — and that range is exactly what makes Pluribus such a provocative watch.
Source: Polygon
