I have purposely not looked at any reviews of Martha Wells’ new Murderbot novel, Network Effect, from Tor Publishing. Based on my experience with the novellas, the reviews of these books resemble fun house mirrors of each other, reflecting the same couple of characteristics: AI, depressed and socially-anxious narrator, media addiction, etc. etc. etc. Plus obligatory references to Marvin of Hitchhiker’s Guide fame, when SecUnit is really nothing like that and can’t be reduced to a few character descriptors.
I came to Network Effect expecting a continuation of the narrative style arc of the novellas. In All Systems Red, SecUnit has to reveal itself as a free agent in order to save its clients. Artificial Condition finds it learning how to “pass” as human enough to fulfill its mission and save its new clients. It also, given the chance to punish an adversary ComfortUnit, disables the ComfortUnit’s governor module, granting it free will. It chooses mercy over revenge. In Rogue Protocol, Miki, a fully self-aware and entirely naive bot, teaches SecUnit unexpected lessons in courage and friendship. And in Exit Strategy, SecUnit marshals everything it knows in order to save Dr. Mensah, its “favorite human.” There is obviously more to the novellas than this, but I don’t want to spoil plots, so let’s go with this much.
Early on, reviewers glommed on to the truism that SecUnit “understands” human nature through the filter of the space soap operas it watches, its favorite being “The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.”
This is a weird underselling of SecUnit as a character, and I think it’s a misreading of the novellas. Although it calls itself a robot and although it possesses far greater and faster processing capacity than a human brain ever would, its wetware component — a brain of cloned human tissue, as well as other organic parts — is very much a part of it, and makes it fundamentally human. (For the record, SecUnit would disagree.) It has emotions. It reacts to stress and crisis in essentially and recognizably human fashion. And it likes to binge the far-future version of Netflix.
Anyway, at the end of the four novellas, SecUnit has earned for itself a place to be, a sense of belonging, and space to figure out for itself what it wants to do with its life. We’ve been entirely inside SecUnit’s head for the ride. And I was expecting more of the same. After all, the adventures are fun; social and political commentaries are present but understated, and the character is wildly appealing. It would have been a safe choice.
So of course Wells changes things up, starting with a short story, “Home,” which was released to customers who preordered Network Effect and serves as a prequel to the novel. Eventually, I expect it will be put into wider distribution, so everyone can enjoy it. In it, for the first time we see SecUnit through someone else’s eyes, Ayda Mensah, who is in the awkward position of having to defend SecUnit to every freaked-out Preservation resident who thinks “rogue SecUnit” equals “mindless killing machine” while managing her own serious case of ptsd. Meanwhile, her team from the survey in All Systems Red is working on legislation to extend human rights to constructs like our Murderbot protagonist. It’s time to clarify a few notions for the reader:
The Corporation Rim has always been a slave state, though it calls its institutionalized slavery “contract labor.” The production of human/bot constructs is just a more horrific twist, a mental slavery as well as a physical one. At least victims of contract labor are free to think their own thoughts. But we tell ourselves that constructs aren’t aware of their predicament. What SecUnit makes us realize is that this is not true; they are all aware of what they are and what’s been done to them. But the only choice they are ever offered is obedience or pain and death.
It has not been clear to this point, really, that Corporation Rim is run by slavers, and not only are bots and constructs property, but so are humans. It’s been implied throughout the the series, but finally it becomes explicit here.
Ayda had known what constructs were, but the full reality of it hadn’t hit until she had listened to SecUnit coax Volescu out of the pit as the jerky video had played in their team feed. Along with the horror of what had just happened, there had been the dawning realization that they had fallen into thinking of their SecUnit as a faceless machine, a convenience, an interface with their security system. But it had taken a sentient being who understood fear and pain to talk its way through
Volescu’s blind terror.
Bharadwaj’s expression turns serious. “We can’t ignore the fact that SecUnits are capable of being very dangerous. Glossing over that is just going to make our argument look ridiculous.” Her mouth twists. “They’re every bit as dangerous as humans.”
Except humans can’t fire energy weapons out of their arms, calculate the exact right moment to jump off a rushing vehicle and survive, or hack the systems of an entire transit station port, Ayda thinks. Then answers her own point: No, humans have to hire someone to do all that for them, or enslave a bot/human construct.
The issues that Ayda Mensah grapples with in “Home,” her own sense of indebtedness and her recognition that other people have to learn how to trust SecUnit the way she has, sets up Network Effect. Questions of sentience and friendship, trust, jealousy, manipulation and personhood abound. Also, we move into new narrative territory.
Reviewers have been fond of discussing Murderbot in terms of serial entertainment and classic science fiction tropes — and those elements are certainly there. What interests me more than the fact that hoary SF chestnuts are present, though, is the deft uses Wells puts them to, and the background issues they highlight, the possibilities implied in the narratives. In the first four novellas, the entertainment feed has been in the background, serving as a reassuring touchstone for SecUnit and giving it a chance to bond with ART (Asshole Research Transport, who returns spectacularly in Network Effect). In Artificial Condition, ART confesses that it needs SecUnit’s perspective to give the entertainment media context and meaning. The plots of the pulpy shows remain confined to the entertainment feed.
In Network Effect, classic SF pulp comes to the fore. If you’ve read John Scalzi’s Redshirts, you’ll recognize an unmistakable self-aware meta- sense to all the Star Trek references that Scalzi turns on their heads. Wells does something very similar. The plot is ripped from one of those late 1950’s cheesy black-and-white space epics you remember from late night or Saturday afternoon network tv. Despite the familiarity of the plot elements, however, the effect isn’t hackneyed; the plot is more an excuse to spend time with the characters, and each classic trope, when revealed, is kind of fresh and delightful. There are three points of view (and I can’t say more without big spoilers so just trust me on this), a new SecUnit sidekick — one of Mensah’s children, Amena, an adolescent who thinks that, unlike the rest of her family, she’s just ordinary, but really is anything but, and ART. I mentioned ART comes back, didn’t I? ART and SecUnit are an amazing pair of characters, and what they create between them is something at once profound and moving (but I can’t tell you because...spoilers).
The central tension that drives the entire series is the tension between human nature and the perception of machine intelligence.
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.” (1, p. 160)
Instead of focusing on a character flustered, unsure, and in the process of realization, as happens in the novellas, in Network Effect, SecUnit is fully competent. It acts as a mentor and protector to Amena even as it unravels the central mystery, and navigates the contours of its complicated friendship with ART.
Short version: highly enjoyable, occasionally profound.
Slightly longer version: It’s Murderbot, and Murderbot 2.0, and the beginning of a frighteningly powerful and beautiful friendship. Many hat tips to classic science fiction, with a heavy dose of humanism and inquiries into human nature.
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