You know that prickly, empty feeling when a room suddenly goes quiet? That's the kind of quiet Pluribus plays with - not explosions, but the terror of being the last person still "you." It's Apple TV's new sci-fi hit, and it pokes at a question we can't shake: could a hive mind like this ever be real?
Short answer: not as far as current science goes. Longer answer: the show is smart about where it plants its feet, and that's why it feels close enough to touch.
So, could a real "Joining" happen?
We don't have a clear map for consciousness. Neuroscience can track signals, impulses, and the way your brain processes light and sound, sure. But why you feel like "you" - that part is still foggy.
Some thinkers, like Carl Jung (movies and tv series) and Émile Durkheim, talked about a "collective consciousness," more about shared values and social glue than literal mind-melding. That's closer to what Pluribus is playing with: a group that moves together because it believes together. But there's no known RNA switch we can flip to sync billions of brains. That bit stays fiction.
Where the show mirrors real biology
Pluribus gets its texture from the natural world. Ants don't "think" as solo operators the way we do; they respond to chemicals that nudge the entire colony toward a task. That's swarm behavior. Fish do it too - shifting in perfect waves that look choreographed from above. You feel that same eerie flow when the Others move.
If you want receipts, there's solid research on group behavior in animals - think flocking, schooling, and hive action - bundled under swarm intelligence. It's a useful frame for the show's logic, even if the human version stays out of reach for now. Two good primers: a Nature collection on swarm behavior and a Science report on parasitic ants tricking workers into killing their own queen.
The eerie part: biology doesn't care about "intent"
That atom bomb moment at the end of Episode 3 - when Carol asks if the Others would hand one over just to keep the peace - lands because it feels like a colony response, not a conversation. Ants will destroy their own queen if a chemical signal says she's an impostor. It's brutal. It's also rule-following, not personal.
Here's what this could mean for the show: if the Others are truly driven by a simple, rigid directive - never upset anyone - they might steer themselves into disaster. Not because they're evil. Because they're consistent.
Why Vince Gilligan makes the impossible feel close
Gilligan doesn't bury us in lab jargon. He shows us a signal, a sequence of tests, and a slow, clear escalation. You see each step, so your brain fills in the gaps without needing a whiteboard lecture.
He's done this before. Breaking Bad sold the fantasy of "99% pure" blue meth not by making it real, but by letting Walter build it in front of us - method, theft, pressure, payoff. Process creates trust. Same trick here, different monster.
What to watch for next (and how to cover it)
- Language matters: this isn't hard sci-fi. It's metaphysical horror wrapped in familiar biology. Frame it that way for readers who want to know "could this happen?" without a textbook.
- Track the rules: the more the Others act like a colony, the more their limits will show. Look for the moment the directive backfires.
- Follow the humans: the real stakes sit with Carol and the small group who didn't join. Individual agency vs. collective comfort - that's the nerve the show keeps pressing.
The bottom line
Pluribus isn't predicting a future where scientists flip a switch and merge us all into one mind. That's not on the table with what we know today. But the show borrows just enough from ants and fish - and leans on clean, step-by-step storytelling - to make the fiction feel weirdly plausible.
You don't have to fear assimilation. But you might think twice about how easily groups, even well-meaning ones, can trade away a person's "I" for a smoother "we." And that's the part that lingers after the credits - the quiet that doesn't feel so empty anymore.
