This Humans review contains spoilers. The quest to become more human is a compelling one and has been set up to drive the second series as it builds upon the world created in the first. After a lengthy period of deliberation (itself a tellingly human characteristic), Niska uploads Elster’s consciousness code and, with further trepidation, awaits the explosive results. Which, at least to begin with, don’t amount to very much. There is no immediate robot revolution, no AI apocalypse, just some seemingly random malfunctions. The delayed response is a source of frustration for Niska, who was always the most militant of the Elster synths (were she human, we might call her politicised. We might yet). Perhaps that is cruelty by categorisation; her anger is her most human aspect and is central to her drives (in the emotional, rather than the file system sense). Robbed of her revolution, she decides to submit to the courts in the hope that it will help secure legal recognition of her personhood. Such a court case would be extremely high-profile (the term ‘landmark’ feels woefully inadequate) and, even if unsuccessful, would draw more attention to her and her views. For Niska, this surely is the main benefit. From her awkward loitering hook-up to her Synth politics, Niska desires a response. Read that verb back again. Niska desires. Her mechanical coldness aside, she is all but human anyway. Her militancy, her cause, is the answer to her own question. The return of so many familiar Synth faces, among them Max, Leo and Anita, helps to increase the sense of the uncanny. We feel as though we know them but, with the partial exception of Leo, they retain enough of their hyper-calm stiffness to maintain the unease, which is only enhanced by their paramilitary-esque encounters with flesh and blood. The ‘unknown agents pursuing the Synths into abandoned buildings’ scenes felt a little too close to series one, but it is a positive step to see how the group’s activities are motivated by the same event, namely Niska’s mindbomb, that prompts the Silicon Valley explorations of Dr. Athena Morrow (Carrie-Anne Moss) and her paymasters at Qualia Industries. It offers a nicely tangled web of plots, both groups reacting to the imminence of Synth consciousness and, both, unbeknownst to one another, embarking on a race to secure the answers first. There are two clear strands at play here; on this side the quest to see the possibilities for Synths, while elsewhere, the show is concerned with the implications of Synths, both as they are and, perhaps, as they might one day be. A welcome addition is the issue of the economic implications of the Synths, which is a timely and necessary expansion of the show’s concerns. The first series let us become used to seeing them in domestic and service roles, so the glimpse of them at work in mines, in chemical plants and, brilliantly, as marriage guidance counsellors, offers a tantalising hint that this series will explore just how economically disruptive AI can be. Neither, for that matter, are roles that require emotional intelligence. A non-human counsellor sounds like a joke (a fact gleefully acknowledged by the writers) and the ‘Barbara’ starts to appear like a cruel parody. Until her session actually starts to work. The scene is very cleverly done, smartly written and subtly performed, and is possibly the most exhilarating and scary of all the episode’s quieter moments. Prompted to reflect on their own relationship and, without the burden of embarrassment that a human counsellor might unwittingly create, the Hawkins begin the process of talking to one another. There may be hope for them yet. Hope too for us, the viewers. The Hawkins family are as welcome returnees as their Synth companions and despite, or even because of, the expanded philosophising, it’s an incongruous comfort to see some all-too familiar suburban concerns added to the mix. House moving, parenting difficulties, relationship problems, none of these particular joys are going anywhere soon, Synths or no Synths. Speaking of human constants, Barbara’s substitution for the flesh-and-blood mediator was one of at least two references to human sickness absence in the episode. Here too lies the mixture of threat and promise. How much easier would our lives be if they were freed from the interruption and inconvenience of having to change plans because a key person was laid up with Kleenex and chicken soup? The improved efficiency of the economy and society would almost make up for us having no jobs to go to. Humans offers so much future-horror as subtle remarks or background details it’s worth paying close attention. It’s a necessary solution; there are so many ideas to explore and so few episodes in which to follow them that the writers have a gargantuan task to fit them all in. My hope for this series is that they manage to do so and in a manner that does them all justice. Their second biggest advantage is that there are no answers to these questions. I don’t think that anyone can go into this show expecting philosophical conclusions; it’s enough for us to find some genuine human ambiguity. It’s a welcome familiarity.
