Do you remember that comfortable moment when everything seemed fine when you sat in front of the screen? This British anthology series created by Charlie Brooker attacks precisely that moment, that feeling of security. Black Mirror is a series, each episode of which is a separate universe, a separate character and a separate nightmare. One common denominator: technology. But the technology here stands at a point that is close enough to become a reality one day, yet far enough away to never happen. A society where social media scores determine people's social status, an app that allows us to carry a digital copy of our loved ones with us, a system that judges criminals in front of the public... None of this is science fiction anymore—it's all familiar, it's all possible, it's all terrifying. The series is not an anti-technology manifesto. Brooker is neither hostile to smartphones nor blind to the future. What he's really asking goes deeper: When does a vehicle start controlling us? What does human nature do when it seizes power? How much of ourselves do we give up to fit in? Each episode is structured like a self-contained film. The cast changes from episode to episode; sometimes familiar faces, sometimes performances you've never seen before but will never forget after watching. This structure is precisely what sets the series apart: you enter each episode with a brand new story and a fresh emotional risk. Some episodes tear you apart, while others surprise you with unexpected optimism. But after all, the same feeling remains: you are looking at the phone in your hand differently. You become aware of the system you are in again. And you can't help asking yourself the question: "Aren't we already in this universe?" Watching Black Mirror is an experience; sometimes disturbing, sometimes sad, but always honest.