My label for this sort of people is 'personality-impaired.' Young people who think what they believe in is this thing called 'science', but whose personal lives are so bland and featureless after endless years of being indoctrinated to believe that anything they think or feel is probably politically incorrect, that they have learned not to risk thinking or feeling anything other than a continual fascination with the potentialities of digital gimmicks. They are drawn like moths to a flame to anyone who exhibits any kind of outward emotion, so long as how those emotions are expressed contains enough hypnotic cues they are trained to respond to. Enter Forest, overweight aging bug-eyed lunatic with grief issues.

Forrest, an obvious chronic sufferer of trauma-induced psychosis, cannot get past the grief and guilt over the loss of his wife and daughter. So he erects a two-hundred-foot statue of the little girl, and builds a creepy high-tech sorta-secret lab to try and bring her back to life. The glassy-eyed young tech nerds he hires are smart, very smart, but seem not to notice that this whole company basically exists to realize one grieving man's morbid fantasy at any cost, so they dutifully sit staring at screens all day doing whatever it is tech nerds do, and dream of the day they might get invited to join the outfit's high-end 'devs' division.

One does get the nod to come on board at 'devs', then something goes terribly wrong. Then for seven more episodes, we get to watch all the other tech nerds in this one passive-aggressive cult guru's little circle sit around talking about the meaning of life and the nature of reality, and stuff like that. Now and then, two or three minutes per episode is invested in suggesting that there is a story line to all this, something vaguely reminiscent of a murder mystery the authorities have been warned off of, then we go back to groups of aspiring young personality-impaired tech yuppies discussing the nature of the universe and stuff like that.

Eventually, rather than solve the murder mystery or even make any progress on it, the all-but-nonexistent story devolves into even more circuitous discussions on the meaning of life, which one very young personality-impaired person of indecipherable gender decides can be discovered by taking a swan dive off of a dam, because the lady standing next to him/her/them says she already knows he/she/they will, but depending on which universe the dive takes place in, etc, etc.

Seriously. This thing really is that lame. But one thing, though, there is a Russian intelligence angle, for like three minutes, then it gets abandoned to make more time for discussions about the meaning of life, serenaded by overblown music.

The only really stimulating thing about it all is to ponder whether these really are the sort of people who make up the tech sector, and if they really are this vulnerable to being manipulated by psychotic pseudo-visionaries with ex-CIA heads of security doing their frequent homicidal dirty work for them. Might go a long way toward explaining what actually happened to Sheryl Sandberg's husband, anyway, and how it was so easy to sell SilCon on the ridiculous cover story that he 'fell off a treadmill.'