The imperial leader consists of three versions of the same man, existing simultaneously but at different stages of life. They are all clones of the First Emperor, who was named – just to drive the point home – Cleon I.
He is still down in a palace basement, in a glass box, silently reminding all his descendants that they are mere copies – of which the current middle version of the three, Emperor Brother Day, is invested with real venom by Lee Pace.
Foundation interview: stars, creator on tackling one of TV’s toughest tasks
His chief adversary is fabled future-predictor Dr Hari Seldon, played by series star Jared Harris. And it is Harris who first bursts into these 10 new episodes as he delivers his best King Lear: deranged, stumbling, wailing and bawling in a prison of sorts, he hardly comes across as the messiah that legend has made him in the century since series one ended.
Cue the two big philosophical ruminations of this latest trip through the Asimov-verse: on religious charlatanism and fanaticism; and the inevitable adoption of the rebellion-crushing jackboot by any desperate empire seeking perpetual renewal.
At stake, as ever, is the future of humanity. But frankly, why bother?
False friends
Because they can never quite manage to give up the job, retirement rarely suits television detectives.
Returning after taking leave, Kim, in many officers’ eyes, remains tainted by the events of series one, in which attempts were made to frame him for the murder of a colleague and former friend.
And although Kim is still following the personally dangerous agenda of pointing the finger at venal individuals inside and outside the police, his somewhat cloudy career record means he is never that far above suspicion himself – which easily makes him the show’s most intriguing character.
Nevertheless, he remains an irritant to potentially dodgy senior officers; which is why, we discover, the wicked witch of Women and Juvenile Affairs, Yeon Ju-hyun (Kim Shin-rok), has requested his transfer to her unit, all the better to keep him under surveillance.
Some officers still believe in Kim, to an extent. These include Song Kyung-chan (Lee Hak-joo) and Lee Seong-a (Kyung Soo-jin), his ex-partners.
When the burglaries they are investigating look like they are the work of teenagers, suddenly – surprise, surprise – Kim has a foothold in the case and the team is back together. Not that that makes him visibly happier.
And then there is Kim’s main tormentor, showing no signs of retirement himself: the voice on the phone, who calls himself “Friend” and who dangles Kim at the end of a metaphorical rope marked “blackmail”.
His mission, it seems, is still to use Kim as his personal waste-disposal agent in the flushing out of corruption in public office. It is a wonder that the perma-stressed Kim does not change his number, because with friends like “Friend”, who needs friends?
