A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk & Robot, #1)

by Becky Chambers

Sometimes, a person reaches a point in their life when it becomes absolutely essential to get the fuck out of the city.

Dex realized with a stomach-souring thud that they were standing on the wrong side of the vast gulf between having read about doing a thing and doing the thing.

“I can go a hundred miles, give or take.” “So, that’s … sorry, I’m slow at math.” Dex frowned. “What?” How was the robot slow at math? “Hush, I can’t multiply and talk at the same time.” The whirring continued.

It ignores the greater meaning born out of the combination of those things.” Mosscap touched their metal torso, smiling with pride. “I am made of metal and numbers; you are made of water and genes. But we are each something more than that. And we can’t define what that something more is simply by our raw components. You don’t perceive the way an ant does any more than I perceive like a … I don’t know. A vacuum cleaner.

“So, the paradox is that the ecosystem as a whole needs its participants to act with restraint in order to avoid collapse, but the participants themselves have no inbuilt mechanism to encourage such behavior.” “Other than fear.”

“I think there’s something beautiful about being lucky enough to witness a thing on its way out.”

“Are you all right?” “Yeah,” Dex said, tear ducts unleashing. “Onions just … hurt. They … Ah, fuck.” They rubbed their eyes harder, taking a steadying breath. “Their smell is—it does this.” They gestured vaguely at their wincing, wet face.

“Will you do the same? Stumbling in circles, falling down?” The robot’s tone suggested that it sincerely hoped this to be the case. “No,” Dex said. “I’m having one beer.”

I went to doctors, to make sure I wasn’t sick and that my head was okay. I read books and monastic texts and everything I could find. I threw myself into my work, I went to all the places that used to inspire me, I listened to music and looked at art, I exercised and had sex and got plenty of sleep and ate my vegetables, and still. Still. Something is missing. Something is off. So, how fucking spoiled am I, then? How fucking broken? What is wrong with me that I can have everything I could ever want and have ever asked for and still wake up in the morning feeling like every day is a slog?”

“Do robots hold hands?” Dex asked. “Is that … a thing, for you?” “It’s not,” Mosscap said. “But I’d very much like to try.”

Awww :(

“Hmm,” Mosscap said. It pondered this, and gave a wistful shrug. “I wish I could understand experiences I’m incapable of having.”

“‘Without constructs, you will unravel few mysteries. Without knowledge of the mysteries, your constructs will fail. These pursuits are what make us, but without comfort, you will lack the strength to sustain either.’”

“I wanted to do that.” They folded their hands around the mug, placed their forehead against the rim, shut their eyes. “And now it’s the only thing I know how to do.” Mosscap cocked its head. “And that bothers you.” Dex nodded. “I care about the work my order does, I really do. Every person I talk to, I care. It’s not bullshit. I may say the same things over and over again, but that’s only because there are only so many words that exist.

You’re an animal, Sibling Dex. You are not separate or other. You’re an animal. And animals have no purpose. Nothing has a purpose. The world simply is.

“Do you not find consciousness alone to be the most exhilarating thing? Here we are, in this incomprehensibly large universe, on this one tiny moon around this one incidental planet, and in all the time this entire scenario has existed, every component has been recycled over and over and over again into infinitely incredible configurations, and sometimes, those configurations are special enough to be able to see the world around them. You and I—we’re just atoms that arranged themselves the right way, and we can understand that about ourselves. Is that not amazing?”

All I have is right now, and at some point, I’ll just end, and I can’t predict when that will be, and—and if I don’t use this time for something, if I don’t make the absolute most of it, then I’ll have wasted something precious.”

“Your kind, you chose death. You didn’t have to. You could live forever. But you chose this. You chose to be impermanent. People didn’t, and we spend our whole lives trying to come to grips with that.”

“Then how,” Dex said, “how does the idea of maybe being meaningless sit well with you?” Mosscap considered. “Because I know that no matter what, I’m wonderful,”

“I think we should stop in Stump first,” Dex said.

WE

In the wilds outside, the sun set, and crickets began to sing.

Crickets!! What Dex was searching for <3