System Collapse (The Murderbot Diaries, #7)

by Martha Wells

It should be reassuring that humans don’t get what other humans are thinking, either, but it just highlights how fucked up human neural tissue can be.

(I know I get pissed off when humans don’t acknowledge my work, but why is too much acknowledgment also upsetting? Sentience sucks.)

Did I understand how it processed its emotions? No. But I don’t understand how I process my emotions, either.

I had fifty-seven unique sources of concern/anxiety, speaking of checking in with my emotions, but nothing I could do anything about right now.

I could have asked what “or worse” meant in this context but there was only so much I could take and I thought I’d hit my limit about, I don’t know, four years ago.

Yeah, I’ll just code a patch to stop feeling anxiety, wow, why didn’t I think of that earlier. (That was sarcasm, I have too much organic neural tissue for that to work.) (Of course I’ve already tried it.)

I’m not spiraling, this is all accurate. But whatever.

And I had decided, for real this time, which ship I would be on when I left. Do you know where we’re going next? I asked ART.

<3