Starfish (Rifters, #1)

by Peter Watts

THE abyss should shut you up.

You’ve been solved, it says. You’re mechanical. Chemicals and electricity. Everything you are, every dream, every action, it all comes down to a change of voltage somewhere, or a—what did she say?—a tricyclic with four side chains— “It’s wrong,” Clarke murmurs. Or they’d be able to fix us, when we broke down—

“It’s not so much what you know,” Scanlon said. “It’s what you are.”

“I don’t think I’m exactly human anymore, Len. Which, considering the kind of human I was, is probably just as well.”