In the closing moments of the debut episode of Pluribus, Carol, portrayed by Rhea Seehorn, poses a simple yet compelling question: “What the fuck is happening?” As a viewer, you’ll likely find yourself echoing her sentiment frequently. That sense of intrigue, coupled with the series’ deliberate unfolding, is among the most captivating aspects of this new creation by Breaking Bad mastermind Vince Gilligan. While I can’t divulge much about Pluribus at this point, I assure you that its mystique is a significant part of its charm.

So, what can be shared? Carol is a renowned author of fantasy novels, or as she prefers, “speculative historical romance literature.” Despite her success, she despises both her work and her fanbase. The allure of a more meaningful career is ever-present, but the lucrative nature of her current path poses a challenge. Although she enjoys wealth, a loving partner, and a proficient manager in Miriam Shor, Carol is primarily dissatisfied, though she adeptly masks it in public.

This unsettling scenario places Carol in a unique predicament. Previously, she merely criticized the world’s flaws; now, she might be its only hope for salvation. The path forward, however, isn’t clear. Facing billions alone is daunting. The others, while eager for her membership, are equally committed to ensuring her happiness. Their nature compels them to appease her, with Carol’s emotional turmoil physically affecting them. This dynamic creates a tense yet intriguing narrative as she navigates her emotions amid overwhelming circumstances.

It’s extremely creepy and puts Carol in a difficult position. Normally she just complains about everything wrong with the world, but now she’s just about the only person who can actually save it. Of course, how she goes about that isn’t so easy to figure out. One person up against a few billion puts her at a serious disadvantage. The thing is, while the others want Carol to be a part of their group, they also are willing to do seemingly anything to make her happy. It’s part of their nature; in fact, when Carol gets really upset or angry, it actually physically harms them. This creates a fascinating tension as she has to regulate her emotions while going through an unimaginably stressful situation.

There’s a lot going on, and the first two episodes are mostly about Carol coming to grips with the bizarre situation. Which is good, because it gives viewers time to come to grips with it as well. While Pluribus has some of the energy of a post-apocalyptic story, it’s also completely unlike them in many ways. Because, really, does this world actually need saving? No one in The Walking Dead wants to be a flesh-eating zombie. But turning into a perpetually chipper person? Well, that might not be so bad. As one of the others says early on, the day the change happened was the “greatest day in the history of humanity,” and it’s not impossible to understand why some might agree, even if Carol certainly doesn’t.

Pluribus really digs into the nitty-gritty of how this new and very unique world works, and it isn’t afraid to take its time doing so. There’s a level of trust that Gilligan and his team have put into the show’s structure. “The older I get, the more confident I get, not in terms of my abilities but in the wisdom of the audience,” Gilligan told me ahead of the premiere. “The kind of shows that we create attract really smart viewers.”

That’s why there are long, often dialogue-free sequences depicting, say, a woman getting on a plane and flying halfway around the world. You don’t know why she’s doing it at all initially, or even who she is, but the show rewards your patience. The same goes for seemingly boring practical details like how food production works in a world where most of humanity is incapable of harming any living creature. These aspects of the story provide some of the most impactful — and occasionally disturbing — revelations. Pluribus has a strange premise, but the show’s creators also think it through to its logical conclusion (at least that’s true early on; I haven’t seen the whole season yet).

This slow drip of reveals and information is absorbing because Pluribus is such a well-executed show. This is especially true when it comes to Seehorn’s performance, which anchors the whole thing. Carol is not a typical heroic character; she’s a miserable and often frustrating character, and yet it’s hard to keep your eyes off of Seehorn, who makes you laugh, cry, and want to wring her neck, often all at the same time.

Which means that while those “What the fuck?” moments are common, they’re not frustrating like they can be in similar shows. (Sorry, Lost.) The reveals aren’t gotcha moments. Pluribus isn’t a puzzle box meant to be solved. It’s a story with a lot of strange and complicated things to share with you — and it’s more than comfortable taking its time doing just that.

_{The first two episodes of Pluribus are streaming on Apple TV on November 7th.}