System Collapse (The Murderbot Diaries, #7)

by Martha Wells

So the next time I get optimistic about something, I want one of you to punch me in the face.

So I’m here now and it’s fine, everyone shut up about it, okay.

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

I was actually really in the mood for a good long stare at a wall.

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.

And I was having a moment. The humans and ART-drone had tried so hard to make my stupid idea work.

ART-drone said, “I wouldn’t recommend it. I lack a sense of proportional response. I don’t advise engaging with me on any level.”

It wasn’t dead, it was just catastrophically damaged. (I know, who isn’t?)

Her face grim, Iris said, “SecUnit, if you need me to authorize deadly force—” I didn’t, but it’s always nice when they do.