Good morning, friends! We have reached the end of Industry (until next year), and that leaves a gaping void in my TV-watching schedule. How will we fill it? My flatmate said something about wanting to catch up on season 3 of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, and I cannot tell you how much I hope she was joking.

Let’s watch TV!

This season finished airing just a couple of weeks ago, and it felt like the show was properly in the zeitgeist — although that’s partially because some of the finance bros in its fandom belatedly realised it’s a series about the corrupting nature of wealth, and the close ties between finance, technology, white supremacy and sexual abuse.

I’m also prepared to say that Industry is finally properly good. Not original — we are still riffing on Succession (“not serious people”) and Mad Men (attempted suicide in a Jaguar E-type, Kiernan Shipka joins the cast as an executive assistant/escort/blackmailer) — but extremely enjoyable.

It helps that anti-heroine Harper is actually doing something good. Because it will make her rich, obviously, but honestly, undermining a fake payment processor turned neobank that’s secretly being run by Russian intelligence feels pretty righteous to me. (Oh yeah, we are also knocking off The Americans now, and I’m not mad about it.) Even before the Russians got involved, I was like, “This is exactly the sort of financial chicanery I enjoy!”

The final piece of the puzzle: we finally have a heroine we can cheer for in Sweetpea, camgirl and ruthless financial researcher. I’m sure the fifth and final season will bring us her villain arc, but right now I’m having fun watching her and Harper do their thing, while Yasmin takes another step down the path of becoming Ghislaine Maxwell.

Last week I mentioned all the logistical problems with introducing a newborn baby to a story. Heating formula, sterilising bottles, dealing with human waste products.

Older kids bring their own challenges. Like, for example, ideally they keep getting older.

But not Bean, the neglected child that Gary and Teri care for after the world ends. Three years go by, and he’s the same age he was on The Day.

It’s the little things, y’know? Like how I’ve gone from wondering how Xavier is dealing with soiled nappies to thinking, hey, you know what else would have been wiped out by the world-saving EMP? Sewerage treatment plants.

But this is mostly nitpicking, because I liked this episode. It gives us a rich character sketch in Gary, the postman/apocalypse prepper who is basically a decent guy, until the moment he’s not. That both he and the more overtly threatening Ennis both turn because they fear losing their best friend — but Ennis comes good, where Gary goes bad — feels like it’s Saying Something About The Male Loneliness Epidemic.

It also gives us a deeper look at Teri than we’ve had before, and I think it’s interesting that both she and Xavier have looked at a lost child and gone, “Okay, this one’s mine to take care of.” They’re gonna end up bringing so many kids back to that bunker.

Things we know, that Xavier doesn’t:

My guess is that Bean ran straight to Teri and told her everything, and they’re both hiding out on the train. Which Xavier is setting up to attack. So that won’t go badly at all.

Opinion seems quite mixed on this finale among my friends, but here’s my hot take:

I liked it.

Apparently it went through total rewrites at the last minute, and it shows — the script is less polished than any other in the season — but I think it consolidated its themes and character arcs, and applied the lessons of every single previous episode to bring the story to a close.

The weakest point, for me, is Paul Giamatti’s Nus Braka character. I do think it’s funny that Giamatti’s presence has been a huge selling point for the series — moreso than Holly Hunter’s, for some reason — and yet his character is ultimately a bit pointless, a catalyst for the confrontation with the real antagonist. Braka is childish, selfish, solipsistic and bad at long-term planning, and sexist to boot. He is a Trumpian figure (the chyrons on his personal mass media transmission have a decidedly Trump Tweets tone), which is fitting for 2026, but unfortunately 2026 is very badly written.

But he’s the villain. Caleb’s mother, Anisha (Tatiana Maslany) is the antagonist, and a good chunk of the episode is taken up with her explaining to Captain Ake how Ake’s choices, and those of the Federation, destroyed her life and family. And Nahla can’t deny it, because Anisha is correct.

This sets up a problem for the episode, because there’s no opportunity to demonstrate that the galaxy is better off without the Federation, flawed as it is, or that the Federation has improved itself beyond Nahla’s efforts as an individual. You sort of have to take it on faith that the Federation as a state deserves to exist, and in sixty years of history, Star Trek has never even tried to make that argument. SFA does a much better job of getting into it than, say, Strange New Worlds’ recent attempts, and honestly I don’t know how much political theory the average streaming television viewer would tolerate, but I do feel like there was a missed opportunity to tell a really brave story here.

On the other hand, flawed as it is, this subplot gives us the opportunity to watch Hunter, Giamatti and Maslany interact, giving complicated and layered performances. (Apparently this is the first time Star Trek has had three Emmy winners on screen; two also have Oscars. Awards are fake, but also nice to have.)

And then there’s the YA subplot, with the cadets — under the supervision of Reno, who has herself become a better teacher over the course of the season — working together to rescue the hostages and save the Federation. This is mostly an ensemble piece, with opportunities for everyone to shine except Jay-Den. Why is my gay Klingon son being sidelined in the back half of the season? Who allowed that? But at the same time, while he is not driving the story as much as the others, he gets to represent the audience, with more reaction shots than any other as the story unfolds.

Tarima gets the conclusion I wanted for her: Caleb persuades her that her abilities are more than a weapon, and she uses what I’m gonna call telepathic echolocation to locate Anisha. He says, “I trust you,” and it feels like maybe the first time anyone has ever told her that. A lot of these characters were never able to have childhoods, but Tarima has been trapped in an eternal childhood where she could not make choices or have any control over her life. Now she can finally move forward into adulthood, and when we see her briefly in the coda, she is holding herself with more confidence.

Sam confronts Genesis about feeling like the sidekick (“the mirror”) in their relationship, interprets the Doctor’s scrambled speech, and disables Nus’s mines. Genesis takes command while Reno is busy elsewhere. Darem finds his niche as a pilot.

And Caleb gets to be the engineer, with Reno’s support, but he also uses the debating skills he learned in episode 4 and the theatrical lessons of episode 8 to distract Nus in the final minutes, joining the show trial and speaking on behalf of Starfleet, integrating what he learned from his mother with everything Nahla has taught him. It’s a captainly moment, and peak Star Trek: the situation is resolved without a single shot fired.

We end with both Anisha and Nahla alive, which I genuinely did not expect — I was certain that, even if Holly Hunter was sticking around for a second season, Anisha was a dead woman walking. I mean, she’s the mom. Their job is to have a kid, then die. (I am still mad at Paradise, by the way.) But no! Just as Caleb gets to have a new life, so does she — as a free woman, able to travel and learn and enjoy all the opportunities of a citizen of a probably-free society.

Starfleet Academy has a lot of characters whose youths were essentially stripped from them — and given that Tatiana Maslany is only 40, and Caleb is meant to be 21, Anisha is arguably one of them. If the series opens with an act of carceral violence, it ends with restorative justice — imperfect, but better than any of the alternatives we’ve tried so far. Peak Star Trek.

Here’s a really funny story: last Sunday night, I went to a gig. It was G Flip and The Beaches playing Margaret Court Arena, and the crowd was an interesting mix of queer people and people who look like normie suburban mums. The people who keep P!nk working, you know? (No disrespect, I am aware that I look to strangers like a normie suburban mum.)

There was a really fun vibe, but in the final few songs, some people behind us got into a biff. I don’t know what it was about, but it ended with two young women pouring a can of Jim Beam and cola over an older lady and getting kicked out.

This was hilarious. Two shows for the price of one AND a biff! The only other gig I’ve ever been to where violence was in play was Fleetwood Mac, and, like, what is it about these cheesy, normie acts that attract that?

Then I walked back to my car, and my jaw was trembling, and my hands were cold but I was sweating, and my heart was pounding, and I sat in my car for fifteen minutes going, “Am I having a panic attack?” And I think the answer is no, but maybe it was an anxiety attack?

I finally felt well enough to drive home, and I went to bed, took a melatonin and drifted off thinking, “This is gonna be a hilarious story to tell, but also maybe I should talk to my doctor?”

And then I totally forgot about it until Samira had her workplace panic attack on my TV last night, and I went, “Wait.”

In conclusion, Robby can step on a lego with his whole “you’re having a panic attack over your workplace mommy issues?” schtick. I see you, Mr My Workplace Panic Attacks Are About My Manly Trauma That I’m Not Really Addressing. He gets points for apologising, but then some are deducted for having to be told by multiple people that he was being a dick.

But isn’t interesting how last season we followed Robby into his private moments, where he was breaking down — where we got to see him barely holding it together — and this season, we’re not getting any of that interiority. I think it’s a deliberate choice, and makes him less sympathetic than last year. He’s presenting a COMPLETELY FINE SURFACE, YESSIREE, THANK YOU FOR NOT ASKING FOLLOW UP QUESTIONS so hard that even the audience doesn’t get more.

Compare that with Santos, who is also being a dick in this hour, but we’ve seen her falling asleep on the toilet and catching glimpses of self-harm scars. She needs someone to tell her to pull her head in, and obviously Garcia isn’t the one to do it, because Garcia is an asshole.

It feels like a job for Dr Al-Hashimi, but first she has to remind Robby that he is a human being and should act like it.

(I also note that Langdon’s Twelve Step Apology Tour has not yet come to Santos, who has suffered professionally and personally as a result of reporting his drug diversion. He’s playing at being the adult in the room, but he hasn’t earned that yet.)

Standout patient of the week

It’s a tiny part, but I really liked checking in on the pedantic English teacher with kidney stones — mostly because his scene showed us a different side of Ogilvie. Who has been steadily improving all season, and learning from his mistakes, but now he gets to demonstrate that he is capable of building rapport with patients.

Standout doctor of the week

She’s not a doctor yet, but shout out to Joy for hooning through the waiting room with a wheelchair for Samira. A friend of mine recently had a heart attack in the hospital where she works, and I am picturing a Joy coming for her with determination in her eyes.

(My friend is doing really well! Immediate treatment is important!)

Standout nurse of the week

Dana is always the winner in this category, but pre-emptively arranging nicotine patches for her pre-digital colleague was super smart.

Standout nightmare fuel of the week

Just Say No To Degloving.

The Dr Michael “Robby” Robinovitch Award For Achievements In Petty Bitchiness

Obviously Robby is the clear winner here, with the Shark and Garcia as close runners up — but I also want to point out that Dr Shamsi, Javadi’s mother, is clearly the reason Garcia is so dismissive of and rude to the ER staff. Shamsi straight up tells Javadi that the ER doctors are inferior to their colleagues. Just super unprofessional. Especially because this is a trauma centre, meaning — if I understand the lingo correctly — they aren’t dealing with elective surgeries, every single patient arrives as an emergency case.

Runner up goes to Langdon for his smug little “I’m always happy to teach Dr Santos.” Try apologising, bitch.