‘Pluribus’: Bold take on hive mentality

Step into the weird, wonderful world of ‘Pluribus’ where happiness isn’t just contagious, it is a full-blown pandemic. Created by Vince Gilligan and anchored by a fierce performance from Rhea Seehorn, this thriller-sci-fi hybrid invites you into a quiet catastrophe where the world has gone happily insane and only a handful remain immune.

Right from the start, the series lays out an unsettling origin story. A strange radio signal detected from deep space is decoded into a viral blueprint, and once replicated in a laboratory, a single rat bite triggers an outbreak that links people into one smiling hive-mind.

Carol Sturka (Seehorn) returns to Albuquerque with her partner Helen (Miriam Shor), only to watch her suddenly collapse as the virus races through the city. As the population merges into a unified “we”, Carol discovers she is one of the rare individuals who remain immune. In the days that follow, she tries to resist the hive’s unnervingly gentle pull, even as it offers constant help and guidance. Along the way, she encounters Zosia (Karolina Wydra), the enigmatic Pirate Lady, meets other scattered survivors and slowly understands the global scale of the transformation.

By Episode 3, the conflict escalates sharply as the struggle between free will and enforced joy tightens around her.

Seehorn, who carved out one of television’s most unforgettable characters as Kim Wexler in ‘Better Call Saul’, brings that same razor-sharp presence here with quiet fire, grit and emotional precision. Supporting players, including Wydra and Schutte, add spice without stealing the spotlight.

Gilligan has pushed way beyond his crime-drama comfort zone (yes, we’re talking about ‘Breaking Bad’). Instead of meth labs and moral descent, we are in the realm of a global virus that doesn’t so much kill you as absorb you into an overwhelmingly cheerful hive.

‘Pluribus’ (Latin for ‘of many’ or ‘many becoming one’) is ambitious, experimental and unapologetically weird, flipping the outbreak trope on its head. There are no zombies here, just an epidemic of enforced contentment that feels eerily plausible in our algorithm-driven age.

The pacing sometimes leans into slow-burn territory and might test viewers who want constant fireworks, but that is part of Gilligan’s design. The quiet stretches build a steady unease, making the thriller moments land harder when they arrive.

Shot against the stark beauty of New Mexico, the show uses harsh neons and sun-bleached emptiness to heighten its noir mood. The dark humour is spot-on. The writing snaps with Gilligan’s dry wit, turning moments of existential dread into funny bursts of absurdity.

Though the series appears to be a sci-fi horror, in spirit it is something far sharper — a mirror disguised as a story. Because the deeper you go, the more you realise that ‘Pluribus’ isn’t just about aliens or viruses, it is about us. It is about the Internet. The alien hive-mind works almost exactly like social media, a place where everyone’s connected, everything is shared and individuality is slowly dissolved under the warm light of constant validation.

There is connection everywhere, but also a quiet loneliness, with forced happiness masking emptiness and a sense of choice that feels more like control.

In a sea of formulaic streams, ‘Pluribus’ stands out as television that is as thought-provoking as it is entertaining. It is not just a show, it is a conversation-starter and a reflection of our own happiness obsessions. Dive in and let Carol’s crusade remind you that sometimes, a little misery is what keeps us truly alive. If you’re craving for something fresh, audacious and Seehorn-tastic, ‘Pluribus’ is your pick.