The narrative unfolds across three timeframes — the past in 2009, the present in 2023, and the future in 2034 — tracing the arc of a cohort of FBI recruits who begin as uncertain newcomers and grow into hardened, battle-tested agents. In the early chapters, they struggle to cope with a crushing workload and the weight of high-stakes expectations. By the story’s present, they stand as seasoned professionals, each shaped by hard lessons and life experience. The future world they inhabit is bleak and suspicious, where rapid technological advances threaten to outpace humanity and crime-profiling tools become a dangerous form of preemptive justice. In this society, progress can deter crime by arresting criminals before they act, yet the cost is steep and the moral lines blur quickly.
Within this looming future, Henry, the FBI’s senior director, faces a rare and daunting opportunity to see a transformative technology up close — one that could yield immense benefits but also deep sorrow. He must persuade politicians to allow him to remain in office, while his former colleagues grapple with the unsettling question of how a technological leap might endanger humanity rather than save it.
Showrunner Tom Rob Smith enters with a track record of ambitious storytelling. He wrote and helped produce two seasons of American Crime Story alongside his collaborators, including Ryan Murphy, and he brings that same penchant for grand, multi-layered narratives to The Class of ’09. The series evokes the mood and pacing of a grand mystery, echoing the time-shifting approach of True Detective as it pivots through different eras while staying anchored to a single, evolving cast.
Critics note that the project leans on a provocative premise and, at times, echoes classic science-fiction ideas about predictive crime and preemptive punishment. Some views have described it as reminiscent of Philip K. Dick’s speculative imaginings, yet the creators insist they are aiming for something more than a mere homage or a familiar blockbuster template. The show aspires to stand apart from well-worn narratives like Spielberg’s Minority Report by rooting its critique in character psychology and the slower, more deliberate tempo of a character-driven drama.
What emerges is a multi-layered experience that blends serious, sober storytelling with the vitality of its young ensemble. The performers bring a convincing balance of gravity and hope, lending texture to Smith’s dry, observational voice and allowing the core ideas to breathe. The result is a drama that feels both intimate and expansive, where the personal histories of the agents intersect with a broader meditation on the risks and rewards of a future defined by smart systems and surveillance.
Yet the series does not shy away from discomfort. The world it portrays challenges the audience with a sense of unease about where loyalty ends and duty begins, and about who ultimately bears responsibility when technology misfires. The non-linear structure — jumping through time and dropping clues across eras — can be demanding for viewers, but it also mirrors the agents’ own confusion as they navigate a landscape in which past experiences fail to perfectly predict present dangers. The result is a show that invites attention and rewards patience, even as it tests the limits of what a modern thriller can achieve.
In parallel, the show’s premise invites comparison with other contemporary dystopian visions, notably a climate of scarcity and secrecy that appears in a separate Apple TV+ project about a surviving enclave underground. Together, these stories illuminate a common anxiety: that humanity may confront disasters not from machines alone or forces of nature, but from the complexities and flaws of people themselves. The tension between cutting-edge capability and fragile human judgment sits at the heart of the narrative, offering a provocative meditation on how responsibility evolves when the tools meant to protect us become the very instruments of risk.