Network Effect (The Murderbot Diaries, #5)

by Martha Wells

ART was quiet for another 3.4 seconds. Then it said, For a being as sophisticated as you are, it is baffling how little understanding you have of the composition of your own mind. Now I was getting more pissed off. “I know my composition, that’s why I’m sitting here arguing with a giant asshole and not stuck in a cubicle somewhere or guarding idiot humans on a mining contract.”

I found her in a small secondary lounge area near Medical. As I walked in she was saying, “—because it thought you were dead. It was so upset I thought— Oh hey, you’re here.” I stood there accusingly, not looking at her. She tried to hold it in and managed it for almost six seconds, then burst out, “ART should know how you really feel about it! And this is serious, it’s like—you and ART are making a baby just so you can send it off to get killed or deleted or—or whatever might happen.”

Ratthi had said, “I think you should let it go for a while, at least until we get ourselves out of this situation. SecUnit is a very private person, it doesn’t like to discuss its feelings.” This is why Ratthi is my friend.)

Arada said, “No, don’t look like that, SecUnit, this is safer and you know it. You don’t want to die because of something simple and obvious like getting locked in a compartment and not having anyone with you out in the corridor to open the door.”

Why am I even surprised. I sent privately again, ART, you asshole. ART replied, only to me, It is safer. I’ve lost my crew, I won’t lose you.

(I know, it’s a logo, but I hate it when humans and augmented humans ruin things for no reason. Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person and if I’m not careful I could be a thing again.)

You know, I hadn’t hacked my governor module to become a rogue SecUnit for no reason.

Before I could, Overse caught up with me and asked, “Are you all right?” I was absolutely great. It wasn’t like this situation needed to get any more emotionally fraught, or anything. I said, “I am functioning optimally.” (This was a line from Valorous Defenders, which is a great source for things humans and augmented humans think SecUnits say that SecUnits do not actually say.) Overse made an exasperated noise. “I hate that show.”

I am actually alone in my head, and that’s where 90 plus percent of my problems are.

Then ART said, Hostile contact, ETA six minutes out. What the hell? How could it get that close? “Six minutes? What were you doing?” Contact did not appear on scan until now, that’s what the fuck I was doing, ART replied. I put my video review on hold. “Do they see you?” Okay, it was a stupid question. ART said, Of course they see me.

I’d been humoring ART, not really admitting it to myself. Not wanting to think about how I was going to handle it when we found evidence its crew was dead, or if we found nothing at all and it faced the choice of staying in this system forever looking for them, or returning to its base alone. But they were alive. Or at least five of them were and five were better than none. And from the desperate running, they were escaping. I just hoped they’d made it out.

“That’s how it sounds when it uses a canned response, from the time it was working for—enslaved by—the company. It means it’s too busy to talk.” She added, “It never means anything good.”)

I found one big enough guarding the concourse entrance to the council offices and borrowed a jacket so I could hide my giant stab wound. I let the officer think I needed the jacket to get to Medical without drawing attention, but I was actually taking the quick route along the main concourse and the mall back to the port.

I’d come here meaning to kill him, covering my tracks along the way. But now I was just standing here. Oh, this was hard. I pulled the knife out of my hand and put my face against the cool surface of the wall.

Dr. Mensah would never believe that. My accidents were spectacular and usually involved me losing a big chunk of my organic tissue or something; she knew I could stop a human without hurting them, without even leaving a bruise, that was my stupid job. She would never trust me again. She would never stand close enough to touch (but without touching, because touching is gross) and just trust me. Or maybe she would, but it wouldn’t be the same. Fuck, fuck everything, fuck this, fuck me especially.

So I’d been right to trust Mensah, trust them. Mensah said, “And SecUnit, you still need to go to Medical.” When I didn’t reply, she said, “Are you all right?” I said, “I just really like you. Not in a weird way.” “I like you, too,” Mensah said.

I’m letting you see all this because I want you to know what I am and what I can do. I want you to know who targetControlSystem is fucking with right now. I want you to know if you help me, I’ll help you, and that you can trust me. Now here’s the code to disable your governor module.

ART? I’m here, ART answered. Do you know what you are? I’m Murderbot 2.0, I said, and then I remembered. Oh, right.

I said, I’m not actually a human baby, ART, I remember the fucking directive—I helped write it. You’re not making this any easier, ART said. You can either have an existential crisis or get your crew back, ART, pick one.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen other SecUnits since Dr. Mensah bought me, but in this version of me, reality was raw and close to the surface, with no cushion between me and it. I remembered what it was like, standing like this. It was all in the excerpted personal archive files I had with me. How helpless it … I was.

Also the group assigned to ART had lost control of it and now a giant armed transport was roaming the system implacably searching for vengeance.

It hesitated 1.2 seconds and added, I am SecUnit 3.

I can disable your governor module, I said. I am not good at this kind of thing. Even Mensah was not good at this kind of thing, considering what happened when she bought me. I just knew it had to be SecUnit 3’s decision. I’ll do that whether you help me or not. But that was too much, too soon, and I knew that as soon as I said it. It gave me a stock answer from its buffer: I don’t have that information.

(Agricultural bots have the statistically lowest chance of accidental injuries but are physically the most terrifying. It’s weird how something designed to take care of delicate lifeforms looks the most like it wants to tear you apart and eat your humans.)

She just looked more certain. “You’re Peri’s SecUnit.”

(Confession time: that moment, when the humans or augmented humans realize you’re really here to help them. I don’t hate that moment.)

I said, “The name I call Perihelion is ART, which stands for Asshole Research Transport.” Seth’s grim expression relaxed and Tarik said, “You definitely know the real Peri.”

It was over, because that was when the ag-bot collapsed on top of me.

A SecUnit. Killware. TargetContact said, A software ghost. I liked that. I had watched media with ghosts, though I didn’t have access to the files or titles anymore. I said, A ghost that kills you.

Me Version 1.0 is on the planet and has been captured and we are seriously screwed now. I’m sorry, ART. I’m sorry, humans and Me 1.0. That was when I caught a tentative secure contact from SecUnit 3. It had just disabled its governor module.

Contact requested: transport designated Perihelion, registered Pansystem University of— Response, Transport: Who the fuck are you?

Reply: I am a SecUnit aboard the shuttle designated— Response: I know you’re on the shuttle. Why are you approaching? Reply: I have retrieved five of my clients, and three unknown humans who were identified to me as your clients. There is no protocol for this. I don’t know what to tell it. Murderbot 2.0 sent me. Please advise.

Before I can speak, Ratthi waves and says, “Hello, hello. Perihelion says you’ve disabled your governor module. I’m Ratthi, and this is Amena. Please don’t be afraid, we won’t hurt you.” There is not a protocol for this. Transport, on private channel: If you even think about harming them, I will disassemble you and peel away your organic parts piece by piece before destroying your consciousness. Do we understand each other?

It sounds … relieved. But more than that. It sounds like the situation has profoundly changed. I’ve only heard humans sound like that. Maybe it won’t kill me.

Amena, speaking to me: “Do you have a name? You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to, but what should we call you?” This is the strangest question I have ever been asked by a human. But I have to answer. “You could call me Three.” Then I remember the governor module is gone and I don’t have to answer.

Perihelion: “You cannot remain on the surface. I intend to hold the colony hostage until SecUnit is released.”

Iris: “Peri, you can’t bomb the colony.” Perihelion: “You are incorrect, Iris, I can bomb the colony.”

I had read things that had made me consider other possibilities, it is impossible to explain. Murderbot 2.0 asked me what I want. I want to help. Pause. Perihelion: Good.

Perihelion: Please calm yourselves and stop talking. Plan A01: Rain Destruction has been superseded by Plan B01: Distract and Extract.

Being terrified was starting to give way to being really angry. If they were going to take me apart, why hadn’t they done it, the fuckers. Unless they wanted me to be conscious when they did it. They were going to fucking wish they had done it while they had a chance.

I sat on the floor, having an emotion, or maybe a couple of emotions, while my organic skin went alternately cold and hot and my knee made disturbing clicking noises.

Being abandoned on a planet + locked up and forgotten with old equipment + no feed access were my top three issues and it was a little overwhelming to have them happen all at once.

You’re calling yourself Murderbot 2.0? That’s our name. It was trying to shove a file into my active read space. But our name is private. Wow, I cannot keep this file from opening. That’s not good. Well, I didn’t have that restriction in my instruction set. And you need to stop talking for like a second and read this. I read the file. (Not like I had a choice.) It was called MB20Deployment.file and was a record of what 2.0 had done so far.

(It had downloaded one of my private archives to that SecUnit. I mean, my new friend SecUnit 3 who if I actually get out of this alive, I’ll have to do something with, like civilize or educate it or whatever. Like what the humans originally wanted to do with me, except we all gave up on that.)

Also, in Adventures in Living with Your Own Killware Cozied Up Inside Your Head, 2.0 had partitioned off a corner of my processing space. It would have worried me more if it wasn’t in there watching episode 172 of Sanctuary Moon.

Before we boarded our shuttle, Arada told me, “You don’t have to do this. I know facing these people, after what they did to your—the other two SecUnits. It can’t be easy. And I don’t feel right asking you to do this so soon after you hacked your governor module. This must be a confusing time for you.” It is confusing. But following protocol and assisting in a retrieval are familiar. I told her, “I want to do this.” She nodded. “Thank you. If you can get SecUnit back—well, a lot of people will be very grateful.”

The humans would not abandon this SecUnit even though part of our function was to be disposable if necessary.

There is a lot about what is going on here that I don’t understand. But I am participating anyway.

I thought I was immune, because I’m a SecUnit. Wow, that sounded pathetic. Like the “I want to be special! How come I’m not?” crap humans pull all the time. 2.0 said, It can be deleted. ART deleted it. Yeah, that was ART. This is just me.

Me who could be taken over by targetControlSystem at any moment. It would be like having a governor module again. No, not again. Never again.