Network Effect (The Murderbot Diaries, #5)

by Martha Wells

Her expression had turned all melty and sentimental. “No hugging,” I warned her. It was in our contract. “Do you need emotional support? Do you want me to call someone?”

The good thing about being a construct is that you can’t reproduce and create children to argue with you.

Now she was talking to me like I was a hysterical human. Worse, I was acting like a hysterical human.

I had cleaned off all the blood and fluid with the hygiene unit but was too angry to take a shower. (Showers are nice and I wanted to stay angry.)

With a “let’s get this over with” expression, Overse asked, “SecUnit, how do you know there wasn’t a distress call?” I said, “This is a teaching and research vessel. The student quarters and classroom compartments aren’t in use, and the lab module was inactive, and there was no cargo module attached. So what was it doing when it got this distress call?” All the humans looked up at the ceiling. ART said, And this is your idea of being helpful. I said, “This is my idea of the opposite of being helpful. I am here against my will and you are going to regret that.” Arada pressed both hands to her face. “Maybe you should go back in the bathroom and think about this a little more.” “I’m done thinking,” I said. ART said, That’s obvious.

“SecUnit—” Arada started at the same time as Ratthi said, “I don’t think—” ART interrupted, SecUnit’s earlier statement that I “lie a lot” was untrue. I obviously cannot reveal information against the interests of my crew unless circumstances warrant. Arada nodded. “Right. We understand. I think SecUnit is looking out for our interests—” ART said, I want an apology. I made an obscene gesture at the ceiling with both hands. (I know ART isn’t the ceiling but the humans kept looking up there like it was.) ART said, That was unnecessary. In a low voice, Ratthi commented to Overse, “Anyone who thinks machine intelligences don’t have emotions needs to be in this very uncomfortable room right now.”

On the private channel between ART and me, I said, I apologize for calling you a fucker. It said, I apologize for kidnapping you and causing potential collateral damage to your clients.

“I see. Thank you for letting me ask you questions.” ART must be recovering because it had to butt in with, Tell her you care about her. Use those words, don’t tell her you’ll eviscerate anything that tries to hurt her. ART, fuck off.

I’m not a caretaker, I told ART. I finished the log conversion and checked my drone view of Amena. She was leaning in the hatchway, her head propped on the seal buffer. (That isn’t a good place to put your head, just FYI.) From her expression, she was either falling asleep or deep in thought. Or possibly both. I said, “You need to sleep.” She yawned. “Okay, third mom.”

You don’t have to thank me for doing my stupid job. But it is nice.

Amena was sitting on the table, frowning at me. She said, “What are you two fighting about now?” ART said, I made SecUnit’s uniform too nice. Amena nodded. “You do look great.” I’m not even going to dignify that with a reaction.

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.”

This was really depressing already and it would be worse if I had been discarded down here with the warehoused equipment and shipping cases forever, like a broken tool.

So you lied to them and made me sound … I didn’t know how to put it. Sound like the person Tapan, Maro, and Rami thought I was, and not like what I actually was. You made me sound safe.

ART watched with me for some of the episodes but the idea of Dr. Mensah coming aboard made it weirdly excited and it had its drones clean its whole interior again and was doing things like yelling at Turi to put their laundry in the recycler.

At least that part wasn’t my fault. Then, before I knew I was going to, I said, “Did Amena tell you about my emotional collapse?” Now she frowned for real. “No, she didn’t.”