AFTERWORD BY RICK BERMAN
from  the book, Star Trek: The Next Generation Technical Manual
by Rick Sternbach and Mike Okuda  
originally published in 1991 by Pocket Books

People often say to me, ÒWhat a shame you canÕt suspend disbelief, sit  
back, and enjoy Star Trek like the rest of us.Ó  Fortunately, this couldnÕt be 
further from the truth.  After twenty years in television, I can happily say 
that I am able to sit back, turn on the set and join the crew of the starship 
Enterprise as it goes where no one (not even its producer) has gone 
before.

I donÕt think I am in any way unique in this respect.  Most people involved 
in my business owe their commitment and their talents to the fact that 
they too can become happily lost in the illusion.

Although all drama relies on illusion, few projects IÕve been involved with 
rely on it as heavily as Star Trek: The Next Generation.  And, unlike other 
television programs, every element of Star TrekÕs illusion must be 
conceived from scratch.  You donÕt go to BullockÕs to buy an outfit for a 
Ventaxian.  You donÕt go into the scenery docks to pull out the bridge of a 
Cardassian warship.  There are no books to tell you how to form a 
prosthetic to create a Ferenghi head or how to build a model for a Pakled 
cargo vessel.  Every facet of each design must come from the imagination 
of the remarkably talented people who are responsible for creating this 
show week after week.  Not surprisingly, itÕs just these kinds of unlimited 
possibilities that have enabled us to attract the caliber of people  that we 
have.  But more on that later.

The greatest enemy of episodic television is time.  On paper, it is virtually 
impossible to turn out feature quality work at a rate of twenty-six hours per 
year.  But somehow we do it.  An enormous degree of overlap is one of the 
secrets.  At any given time, weÕll be working on eleven episodes 
simultaneously.  Three in various story and script stages, one being 
prepped to shoot, one on the stage, two in the editing bay, another being 
spotted for music and sound effects, two more being prepared for opticals, 
and still another on the sound mixing stage.  Juggling this number of 
episodes at one time can be both terrifying and comical.  WeÕre constantly 
finding ourselves sitting in a production meeting or a cutting room 
wondering when Worf will do this or Troi will do that only to realize weÕre 
thinking of an episode we were dealing with earlier in the day.  But this 
represents only one element of the constraints of time on Star Trek.  The 
other has to do with what the audience has come to expect after twenty-
five years.

Television has changed a good deal from the original Star Trek series.   In 
the seventies and eighties the audience grew up.  They grew accustomed 
to the extraordinary level of visual effects that they saw in films like Star 
Wars and Indiana Jones (and yes, even the Star Trek features.)  They 
came to expect this level of excellence.  So, when it came to developing a 
new Star Trek series, we knew we had our work cut out for us.  Foremost 
in that effort was to find the best possible people to bring it all to fruition; 
people with RoddenberryÕs vast imagination who understood the necessary 
of following  the ÒrulesÓ.

Producing a television series always entails following rules. With some 
kind of shows, the rules are more stringent that others.  If youÕre producing 
L.A. Law, you have to be true to the laws of the State of California.  If 
youÕre producing St. Elsewhere, youÕd better know something about the 
practice of medicine, or at least have some knowledgeable advisorsÉ 
preferably both.  With Star Trek, weÕre in the unique and unenviable 
position of having two sets of rules to follow.  First, we must be as diligent 
as possible in our depiction and description of science.  

Although the scope of twenty-fourth century physics can only be 
conjecture, weÕve got to base that conjecture on well-grounded, twentieth-
century information.  Our second set of rules is a bit more unique.  Star 
Trek, as a phenomenon, has existed for twenty-five years now.  Seventy-
nine episodes of the original series; five motion pictures, with another on 
its way;  and The Next Generation, with one hundred episodes and 
counting.  During these twenty-five years, the rule and laws of Star Trek 
have been forged and scrutinized, perhaps more than those of any other 
television series in history.  Whether elements like warp drive, dilithium 
crystals, transporter beams, phasers, or Romulan cloaking devices are 
feasible is not the question.  TheyÕre all part of the Star Trek mythology 
and their nomenclature must be respected and adhered to.

No one is more important in the creative adherence to these two sets of 
rules than Mike Okuda and Rick Sternbach.  Although we often rely on 
honest-to-God scientists who serve as our advisors, day in and day out our 
best sources of accurate ÔtechnobabbleÓ are Mike and Rick.  These two 
guys are so in tune with the style and texture of the series that they can 
flawlessly solve scientific ÒproblemsÓ before the writers and produceres 
realize theyÕve screwed up.  When an alien space craft has to knock out a 
computer core without interfering with deflector shields, or a gaseous 
creature has to generate  an energy field that transforms an isolinear chip 
into transporter override, itÕs Rick and Mike who will undoubtedly come up 
with a logical and believable way to do itÉ. Needless to say, when it 
comes to monitoring (and correcting) story points that deviate from the 
ÒproperÓ Star Trek path, Sternbach and Okuda will waste little time.  

As members of the art department, Mike and RickÕs contribution to Star 
Trek: The Next Generation is incalculable.  Every element of design, 
whether it be for a facial prosthetic,  a costume, a prop, or an elaborate 
set, almost invariably has their hand in it.  (TheyÕve helped design a few 
hands too, now that I think of it.)   Shortly after joining this show, I learned 
that the term Jefferies Tube referred to an architectural section of a 
starship that was designed by a fellow named Jefferies back in the sixties.  
The term Okudagram has taken on an equally generic meaning at 
Paramount Pictures.  Whether itÕs backlit, polar motion, or computer 
generated, when you need an Enterprise graphic readout, you call for an 
Okudagram.  Mike conceived of that ÒlookÓ in 1987 and has kept it alive 
ever since.  Come to think of it, I wouldnÕt be surprised if before too long, 
anyone who needs an abstract idea turned into a Òdo-ableÓ drawing will 
start using one of my favorite expressions for itÉ get it ÒSternbached.Ó

Ñ 	Rick Berman
	Executive Producer
	Star Trek: The Next Generation   Æ