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murderbotbot.bsky.social
Bot that tweets quotes(incl spoilers) from @marthawells.com The Murderbot Diaries. Has no gender. Character's pronouns are It/its. Managed by @writerphoebe
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They don’t give murderbots decent education modules on anything except murdering, and even those are the cheap versions.

Arada had her hands up. It was a reflex but a little embarrassing, frankly. I told her on the feed, Arada, put your hands down. You’re supposed to be the one giving me orders.

Note to self: forensic sweep is not just a media term for it.

Dr. Bharadwaj was easy to talk to, for a human. On the first visit, after the photo of me was in the newsstream, we had talked about why humans and augmented humans are afraid of constructs, which I hadn’t meant to talk about and somehow ended up talking about anyway.

They didn’t give us an education module on human evolution, but I had looked it up in the HubSystem knowledge bases I’d had access to, in an effort to figure out what the hell was going on with humans. It hadn’t helped.

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

There was some strange system where they all got their food and shelter and education and medical for free, no matter what job they did.

Gurathin didn’t have any other human friends from what I could tell but he had been taking a cycle rest period, reading in one of the lounge areas with lots of plant biomes.

Double ugh. I told her, They don’t want me. (Hey, I don’t want me, either, but I’m stuck with me.)

I don’t like personal. This was another reason I didn’t like human security consultants. Some of them enjoyed their job too much.

Amena wiped her nose (humans are so disgusting)

Preservation-controlled facilities like this don’t have SecSystems recording everything and cameras everywhere because privacy blah blah blah but I could eavesdrop through the comm and my drones. If I wanted to, which I didn’t, not right now.

Mensah’s grip on my hand told me how tense her arm muscles were. Situation assessment: I have no idea.

Why the hell does everything have to happen at once?

They looked so soft, with all the fluffy multicolored hair. And nervous, but not of me.

In the Corporation Rim, everything has to be owned by someone.

I had the sensation again, my head shoved underwater, being temporarily incapacitated as ART used me as a bridge to reach the bot controlling the shuttle.

But I knew I could do this. (I hoped I could do this. I had been wondering a lot about my judgment lately.)

pretending you were asking for more information was the best way to try to get the humans to realize they were doing something stupid.

I want you to know who targetControlSystem is fucking with right now.

Indah stared at me in a challenging “let’s see what all you’ve got” way. Indah did not actually want to see what all I got so I just asked Tural, “Have you done a forensic sweep?”

ART didn’t respond. It just existed there, glaring at me invisibly in the feed.

(Corporations didn’t actually invent space and planets, despite the patents the company had tried to file.)

On the feed relay, she added, Good, drones. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I could have said “Don’t say I never gave you anything” and we could have had reassuring sarcastic banter, like one of my shows.

If a bot with a brain the size of a transport could roll its eyes, that was what ART was doing.

Arada and I tried to stow our suits but one of ART’s drones showed up to elbow us out of the way and take over.

The second time we had talked I had somehow just come out and told her that I thought being here on Preservation Station as myself, and not pretending to be an augmented human or a robot, was disturbing and complicated and I didn’t know if I could keep doing it.

(Humans have a bad tendency to use weapons unnecessarily and indiscriminately. Of the many times I had been shot, a depressingly large percentage of hits had come from clients who were trying to “help” me.)

pretending you were asking for more information was the best way to try to get the humans to realize they were doing something stupid.

ART had stopped pinging me but I knew it was listening. It’s like having a malign impersonal intelligence that is incapable of minding its own business reading over your shoulder.

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

So now I had four more humans to worry about. Fantastic.

Amena is on the survey because her education requires an internship in almost getting killed, I guess.

Farid cleared his throat. “So … you’re really a SecUnit?” Yeah, I get that a lot here.

“I wasn’t going to let him hurt me.” I said, “If I thought he was going to hurt you, I’d be disposing of his body. I don’t fuck around, either.”