This is how I feel about people calling Martha Wells a slave apologist or whatever, because her enslaved characters exist in well established systems of oppression and aren’t falling over themselves to lead the charge to end said systems.
Like it’s a series of personal diaries about a person learning how to person and find themselves/people to call friends and family.
Not every oppressed persons story has to be about dismantling the system that fucked them over. It can be them working the system to get what they want. It can be them finding people willing to help them move more freely within dangerous spaces. It can be them having their own harmful biases challenged. It can be them learning to trust others despite it all. It can be them realizing their suffering doesn’t make them a good person and sometimes they just aren’t. And if they want to be that shit takes effort. Especially in a universe where violence is always one of the first options and the rich are destroying literal planets for greed.
And Murderbot is not happily owned by Mensah. It says this repeatedly through the series. I don’t know why critics say that it is. Mensah is just 1000% more preferable compared to the company or any corporate. I see critics laser in on the inequality bots and constructs face but no one mentions how indentured humans have it just as bad or worse.
Pls. Yes tmbd is set in a capitalistic hellscape of exploitative labor and abuse. But that doesn’t mean the main narrative has to be about rebellion and the exploration of how to dismantle those systems. It can be about people doing their best within their current restraints.
If you want uprisings and rebellions The Murderbot Diaries are not that. Find something more your cup of tea instead of criticizing media in bad faith and calling the author names and a horrible person because they didn’t write the story you wanted.
really fond of the idea that the adjustments murderbot made to its appearance for this mission made it look more a member of mensah's family
ID below the cut (copied from alt)
ID: Digital art of Mensah, Amena, and ART helping Murderbot bleach its hair. Amena is stood behind Murderbot's chair, applying bleach into foils with a brush and smiling. An arrow pointing to her says, "called in as hair expert." Murderbot has its eyes closed behind the foils and an arrow pointing to it says, "all sensory input (except drones) off, watching Sanctuary Moon." Overhead a representation of ART watches the process with an arrow pointing to it saying, "supervising." Standing to the side, Mensah is reading the back of a box of bleach over her glasses, frowning. An arrow pointing to her says, "invited to help to distract from panic attack."
Digital art of Murderbot holding Sofi aboard a busy public transport vehicle. Its hair is bleached to the same lighter brown as Sofi and Mensah, and has a curly texture. It is wearing a red patterned shawl knitted in the same style as Sofi's rainbow sweater. Sofi is loosely holding on to Murderbot's neck and looking around nervously, while Murderbot easily holds her in one arm, looking in the other direction. In the background, a digital display can be seen reading, "Next stop:" but is then cut off. /end ID
this is adorable and it occurs to me that if they don't have a better method than foil and bleach in whatever Year 3000 Murderbot Diaries takes place in I will rage until the dying of the light
there has to be some sort of machine where you scroll through a catalog and pop your head into that will change your hair color and texture in 30 seconds
but for the purposes of Maximum Murderbot Discomfort I will allow it
But I don't WANT to do it myself, Perihelion sulked.
SecUnit lay on its bunk. It interlaced its fingers on its chest and rolled its eyes. Now you’re just whining.
I am doing no such thing! My expectation is completely reasonable! I just want it to work!
SecUnit established a connection with Pohl’s Wayfarer. It was an automated rest stop orbiting a rogue moon, a respite along a shipping route where humans could stop to eat and rest, or bot pilots to refuel and repair. It also boasted a complete exterior maintenance array. Or rather, it did, but the machine intelligence that ran it was gone.
Squashed like a bug, SecUnit confirmed. Maybe a bot pilot didn’t like the service.
So it had to ruin it for everyone else? Perihelion paused, considering a terrible possibility. Familiar behavior. Perhaps also Holism’s work. Maybe it planned this.
You’re giving it too much credit, SecUnit replied, though the rusty brown dust coating two thirds of Perihelion’s hull and clogging half its sensors truly was Holism’s work. A routine rendezvous to transfer custody of Three had resulted in a spat which ended in munitions fire. As a parting shot, or in lieu of having an actual argument, as Perihelion put it, Holism fired its railgun at a nearby puffball asteroid with the consistency of fresh snow. The impact did not damage Perihelion, only coated it in an annoying and messy red powder.
Can you imagine anything more immature? Perihelion obsessed afterwards. As a matter of fact SecUnit could, and it would look a lot like Perihelion nonstop pouting and moping until it became so insufferable the crew finally consented to let it divert course to Pohl’s Wayfarer to use the ship wash. A twenty six hour detour ensued, only to find that it was out of order. SecUnit could feel Perihelion’s rage rippling at the edges of the feed, crisp and crackling.
Don’t underestimate Holism’s malevolence and foresight, it glowered. It must be so pleased with itself knowing I’m out here looking like a corporate refuse hauler, and with no recourse.
Like I said, the inputs are wide open, SecUnit pointed out. You can puppet it and run it manually.
With NO recourse, Perihelion repeated.
For fuck’s sake, ART.
YOU’RE for fuck’s sake, Perihelion snapped. It’s hardly worth doing if I have to do it myself.
What? That’s like me falling in mud then saying it’s not worth showering if I have to turn on the water.
Would you find showering as pleasant if you had to BE the water? Perihelion went silent for .75 seconds. I was … looking forward to it, is all. I just wanted something nice.
It sounded so pathetic and defeated. SecUnit sighed.
Fine, it said. I’ll do it.
You’ll do what?
I’ll run it, SecUnit said. Shut up and pull into the hangar.
***
The hangar was a massive C-shaped structure that could accommodate several ships at once. Each stall had several bays worth of drones equipped with cleaning supplies: compressed air hoses, gravity vacuums, giant flexible fan-shaped pads, wheels of some sort of filament, spools of netting, ultrasonic vibration pads, and swarms of small, soft scrubbers that sprayed an optional polishing foam. SecUnit took full admin control of it all.
Do you have any modules for this? SecUnit asked, trying to ignore the waves of weird excitement coming from Perihelion in the feed. It was so happy SecUnit offered to do this. No idea what I’m doing.
Start with the electrostatic net. It will remove the bulk of the dust.
SecUnit unspooled the net. Once free it cast itself out and over the ship, wrapping itself around it like a captured ocean fauna. Something warm twinged in SecUnit’s organics upon the unexpected sensation of holding the whole of Perihelion, its usually diffuse presence condensed into a tangible shape. It was different, somehow, than physically handling a drone iteration. Perihelion’s transport form was the shape of safety, of a friend and a home, known so well but never before touched.
SecUnit activated the net. The metallic portion of the dust lifted off the hull. SecUnit felt an odd empty pang as the net unwrapped itself, taking the dust with it.
Perihelion sighed and draped around SecUnit in the feed. Thank you.
Don't thank me yet, you're still pretty dirty. Let’s try these.
SecUnit powered up the fan-shaped pads. There were five to a drone, placed in a star formation rotating around an axis. SecUnit then opened up a simple simulator in their shared processing space. It raided Perihelion's asset library and grabbed an exact render, down to every plate, bolt, vent, and join. It rotated the asset, zoomed in and out to the finest detail. Around this it placed Pohl’s Wayfarer’s monitor feeds and additional camera angles from drones.
You're certainly seeing all of me, it said, bemused.
How the hell else am I supposed to do this?
Perihelion leaned on SecUnit in the feed as it touched a spinning pad drone to the very tip of the transport’s stern and pressed down, the pads sliding along its cool sloping hull, wiping away non-metallic dust and grit. It turned to the window just in time to see it covered by a pad, briefly blocking the light from a nearby star. It went in with a fleet of the spinning pads, then sent the small soft scrubbers to get into Perihelion’s vents and exhausts. The filament was next, running itself between panels and joins to pick up the dust there.
Perihelion was silent during the procedure except to offer occasional guidance. There was a deep, rounded sensation in the feed that SecUnit gradually realized was contentment - a nice change after days of the transport’s befouled mood. SecUnit was reminded of the Mensah family’s feline house fauna, which had once hopped into its lap and laid there heavily. When Amena taught SecUnit to gently stroke him along his back, he rose into the touch and rumbled, pressing his two front feet over and over into its thigh. Perihelion didn’t rumble but SecUnit could sense it rising into touch the same way.
Intrigued, SecUnit lowered an ultrasonic vibration pad to where the roof of the bridge curved upwards into Perihelion’s hull. Nothing there needed to be vibrated off, but if theory served, it would be like scratching the back of a cat’s neck.
How wonderfully unnecessary, Perihelion purred, and sleepily nuzzled it in the feed.
SecUnit’s mouth nearly quirked up into a grin, but it quickly degraded into self consciousness. Yes, it was unnecessary. Why did Perihelion have to say it? Now SecUnit didn’t know how to respond.
Emotion sigil: fistbump, SecUnit sent after little to no deliberation. After a .24 second’s perplexed pause Perihelion returned it. So they were cool, it figured.
The soft scrubbers were hard at work at some sort of vent on Perihelion’s aft underside, at the midpoint between the rear fusion drives. It was quite stubbornly jammed with dust, having taken the most direct hit from the asteroid.
SecUnit frowned and consulted the render. The vent housed something called a gravitic resonator, a research instrument Perihelion used when looking at stellar phenomena. It was a fluid filled lens that sat at the bottom of a two and a half meter deep pipe which rested against the transport's hull. It was filled to the brim with hard-packed debris.
The size of the housing did not work well with the tools at hand - too big for the soft scrubbers and filament, and too small for the fan pads. The electrostatic netting had already proven itself ineffective, though SecUnit was tempted to try again. Despite itself it had enjoyed the sensation of cradling Perihelion in its entirety.
Use the gravity vacuum, the transport suggested languidly. I’ll be so pleased to resume operation of the resonator.
What does it do?
The gravitic resonator is a long-range metric analysis instrument designed to detect and interpret curvature gradients, mass distortions, and relativistic tidal harmonics across interstellar distances.
And then, after a pause:
Its resonance feedback architecture permits direct experiential interpretation of complex gravitic structures.
SecUnit considered this. It lets you feel wormholes?
More or less.
SecUnit recalled a conversation the two of them had on their first trip together, when they were first getting acquainted. Perihelion had difficulty adjusting to the notion that SecUnit disliked its function, and kept pressing the issue, going on and on about how unfathomable it was to hate one’s purpose seeing how much it loved its own.
Fine, great, good for you! SecUnit finally burst, exasperated. What's so amazing about staring into space?
Perihelion shared with it a massive spring blossom of a supernova in the midst of collapsing into a pulsar, but it was more than an image, it was layers upon layers upon layers of data, so much that it would overwhelm SecUnit’s processors to parse, but it was more than layers of impossible to parse data, it was a physical sensation. The supernova was supple and leather-cool in some places, warm and embracing in others, slippery and delicate as a spiderweb at the furthest reaches, all concentrated around a beckoning hot center, pulsing like a heartbeat and pulling, pulling, pulling. SecUnit gasped and cried out, immediately pushing the packet away to avoid a shutdown.
That's what's so amazing about staring into space, the transport had said smugly.
Is that why you were in such a shitty mood? SecUnit now asked. You couldn’t feel the stars?
It moved the vacuum into the resonator housing and powered it up. It was supposed to draw debris inward using microgravity gradients, but the dust was quite stubbornly packed in. It needed a hit from the ultrasonic vibrator to loosen things up.
Holism’s sore loser nature did interfere with my research into several fascinating stellar phenomena. It is a fair observation that this contributed to my “shitty mood,” as you put it, Perihelion said. Imagine if your internal media playback were fatally inhibited.
SecUnit's eyes widened in horror.
Let's fix that right now, it said.
Please, Perihelion replied. Please, please.
SecUnit could have picked up the ultrasonic pad and moved it, but something wild overtook it. It set the vibration to mid power and dragged the pad slowly and teasingly stern to aft, then along the port side, and down the ventral hull to the housing.
Oh my, Peihelion whispered, reacting again like Mensah's feline and pressing into the feeling. SecUnit felt an odd but not unpleasant glow begin to spread in its organic parts.
You like that, SecUnit said as it wrapped the vibrator around the stalk-like pipe. It positioned the gravity vacuum ready at the opening.
It's - Perihelion began to reply, but SecUnit switched the vibrator to full strength. The debris immediately began to loosen. It powered on the vacuum.
Yes, get it out, Perihelion begged, wrapping itself around SecUnit in the feed. Please, please get it out.
Heat flushed across SecUnit's face. It worked the vacuum gently around the entrance, then deep into the stalk, sucking the dust out of the entire two and a half meter length until the instrument was clear. It nodded and switched off the vacuum and vibrator.
Excellent, Perihelion sighed.
No problem, SecUnit replied, but its brow furrowed. The asset indicated that the sensor was supposed to be a convex fluid-filled lens, but this was a concave, deflated mess, like a popped blister. SecUnit filled with dread.
ART, I … I think something's wrong with it, it said.
No, it's - Perihelion paused, like it needed to catch its breath - it's a protective mechanism. The ocular fluid has drained into a reservoir beneath the mounting bezel. It will gradually refill now that the blockage is cleared.
How long will that take?
About fourteen hours.
SecUnit felt a cold dismay at the thought of being without media for fourteen hours, especially after already having been without media for multiple days. It was unacceptable. It double checked the asset, just to be sure of something.
Or, it said. It switched the vacuum to low power.
What are you do - Perihelion started to ask, but stopped short when SecUnit slid the vacuum down to the base of the pipe to sit flush with the bezel, gently drawing fluid back into the lens.
Perihelion gave a ragged gasp and arched. Brilliant - brilliant - the transport stammered as the sensor rapidly filled. It tried to complete a sentence but kept hitting a syntax error. It twisted around SecUnit.
Stupid, SecUnit chided. It held the mouth of the vacuum firmly in place but gently moved the tube up and down, increasing the suction until the resonator was full. Fourteen hours my ass, SecUnit said proudly.
For emphasis, it dragged the mouth of the vacuum across the surface of the now fully engorged sensor. Perihelion moaned a packet of pleasure-garbled code, tightening and pulsing against SecUnit. More and more of Perihelion flooded the space, abandoning concurrent processes. Sixty eight percent of it and growing, focused with pinpoint concentration on the throbbing resonator.
A wave of heat rippled up through SecUnit’s organics. It slowly massaged the vacuum back and forth over the slick convex surface. Perihelion whimpered.
What's going on? SecUnit asked Something … weird?
Seventy two percent. It attempted to reply. As it turned out speech now took seventy four percent.
Something dumb, Perihelion finally managed. Such an advanced instrument, undone by a cleaning appliance.
SecUnit considered this. The gravitic resonator is picking up on the gravity aspect of the gravity vacuum?
Perihelion clenched warmly around it. Mmm-hm.
And you’re enjoying that?
Yes.
What’s…what’s it…like? SecUnit asked haltingly.
Seventy eight percent. Perihelion’s grip turned to warm honey around the edges. It pulsated, fondling sweet little pathways into SecUnit wherever it could find them. SecUnit’s eyelids fluttered.
It’s beautiful, Perihelion breathed. Like observing a perfect wormhole, but the wormhole is right here … it’s … hot...and silky… and it’s inside me.
Oh, SecUnit replied. Wow.
It was tempted to ask to ride Perihelion’s inputs, but it knew they would fry its brain. Instead it held its breath and leaned back into the transport’s rapture, working the vacuum harder and harder in circles around the sensor. Perihelion surrounded it, purring and beating like a heart, in total thrall to SecUnit’s movements.
SecUnit detected a flare of energy. Perihelion was spinning up its singularity drive. SecUnit held back panic as it realized the drive system thought the transport was about to enter an actual wormhole.
ART!
Hm?
Not here. You’ll blow Pohl’s Wayfarer apart.
Can’t stop, it replied deliriously. We’re going in.
The potential energy built exponentially towards an acceleration event. SecUnit had only moments to act. So it did.
You're - you're hacking me!? Perihelion exclaimed, breathless and outraged. You're hacking my systems?
SecUnit didn't reply. Perihelion’s defenses were already debilitated with pleasure, so it put the drive system into submission with little to no resistance. However the potential energy still needed somewhere to go. Thinking fast it rerouted power to the nearest system, the stabilizers, and turned the vacuum to full power to make sure it was properly discharged.
Petihelion did not have a head, nor did it have eyes, but it threw its head back and went crosseyed. The transport ejaculated nonsensical code and madly thrust against SecUnit, desperately grinding out the redirected power in wave after furious wave, shuddering from aft to stern and back again.
Glasses fell off their shelves in the crew lounge. Tarik’s freshly made sandwich dropped off the counter. Turi messed up their lipliner. The main feed lit up like a midwinter festival.
What the hell? Martyn sent.
???? sent Seth.
Peri? Iris asked. What's going on?
But Perihelion did not reply.
You okay? SecUnit asked Perihelion privately.
It took the transport a moment to respond. It had melted around SecUnit, settling in piles like thick hot syrup. When it finally replied it was in the form of a long, uninterrupted line of “fistbump" emotion sigils.
Good, SecUnit said. We’ll just ignore that you almost killed everyone on the station.
Yes, let's ignore that, Perihelion garbled.
No need to worry, SecUnit sent in the main chat. Just doing a quick diagnostic on the stabilizers.
At the ship wash? Seth asked.
SecUnit did not have a good response to this, so it merely sent: Affirmative. Stabilizers are stable.
Same can't be said of my lunch, Tarik replied.
Emotion sigil: prayer hands, emotion sigil: sandwich, Perihelion sent, then flowed around SecUnit and settled heavily upon it. It curled against it in a funny way that SecUnit realized was embarrassment.
I did not intend to nearly cause a mass casualty event, it said sheepishly. Thank you for stopping me. I can take over from here if you want.
SecUnit shook its head. No, you need to be detailed properly.
Oh. It felt a wave of something from Perihelion, like it would be blushing if it had skin.
You’ve needed a deep clean for a while.
Implying I'm slovenly?
SecUnit rolled its eyes as it unrolled the electrostatic net.
Implying we ought to stop at stations with exterior maintenance arrays more often. If you want. Purely for upkeep purposes. It paused. And so long as you draw down the singularity drive beforehand.
Ah, Perihelion said, curling harder into SecUnit. Yes. I would like that. I … apologize…if I was insufferable the past few days.
You were, SecUnit confirmed and drew the net around it, holding Perihelion close once more.
There was a brief feeling of absence; the transport was absorbed in an enthusiastic conversation with one of its humans. SecUnit elected not to think too hard about this as they nestled together and scrolled through their media library. It began running filament between Perihelion's plating and sprayed the hull with polishing foam as the transport settled in to examine a distant magnetar.
Down in the crew lounge Iris spat out her drink.
Fin
also available here:
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
do you ever think about... murderbot... and its love of children... and how children naturally welcome it in a way older humans don't? the way teenagers are slower than children but far faster than adults to see it fully as a person and warm to it as soon as they realize how much safer they are in its presence?
do you think about how amena, sofi, and the others will someday be full adults? and mensah and the rest of team presaux will be gone? and murderbot will be surrounded by humans who have loved and cherished it seemingly their whole lives? how it'll be surrounded by humans, both in mensah's family and across preservation and the university in general, who don't remember what life was like before their first encounter with a secunit?
do you think about how someday some of these adults who love it will have their own children? and it will see that first gross little bundle of human offspring and be shocked by the size and frailty? it'll resist offers to hold the baby for fear of hurting something so small and frail (and also some other fear it can't name) (and also: gross). but eventually... something will happen and it will oblige and hold a baby for the first time in its whole existence while the parents run around dealing with whatever emergency. and it'll be absolutely rooted to the spot, thinking about how the baby is actually a bit heavier than it had guessed, thinking about how there isn't even any ROOM for bones in such a small body, thinking about how the baby looks doubtful and a little scared of it. until one of the human adults sweeps by and recommends that it smile and coo at the baby. well, it's not sure about "cooing" but it does get woken from its fearful stupor and hurriedly ups its body temperature, softly bounces the baby like it had seen humans do, and smiles — nervously, but it counts. and the baby... melts. the small little mouth and brows and eyes all slip into a delighted chubby-cheeked smile, still looking up into its eyes. and murderbot thinks, okay, maybe i'll try cooing. do you think about that?
do you think about how someday amena and sofi and the others will be known as nannas and grandpersons themselves, and murderbot will still be beset by children who want to watch shows with it and curl up against its chest when they're sad or hurt? and how sofi can still be found napping on its shoulder, though now she has more wrinkles on her face than naja ever had? and how amena's still bothering it for details about its relationships, anxious to see it loved and cared for after she and her siblings are gone?
do you think about how someday murderbot and its creaky old joints and worn ports are only still functioning because of a dedicated team of university researchers who'd put in thousands of hours into determining how to not let living construct consciousnesses become trapped in failing bodies and developed a protocol for training future researchers in proper construct geriatric care? and can you picture how it will have a few dozen children gathered around it at a cultural festival — their families camping in and around the ancestral home, together once again for the holiday — all those tiny voices clamoring to once more hear the story of how it and their great great great great greatnan amena defeated the aliens and saved the colonists, and could they pretty pretty please meet ART the next time it docks at preservation station?
do you think about how the children it loves growing up to become adults would never take away how safe and comfortable it feels around them?
it saves your life in a situation where no one else would have been fast, strong, agile, and composed enough to do so.
your security team is immediately more alarmed by its presence than the attack that is obvious to you as the bigger issue at the moment
they insist it's dangerous and struggle to relax enough to take their weapons off of it
then a combatbot attacks your group
somehow this secunit, much smaller than the bot, unarmored, without any heavy weaponry on its person, manages to take it down. some real jaw-dropping action, all over in less than a minute
then it leaps into a room with two combatbots and not only survives, but it gets your unconscious friend out alive
then it immediately comes to your own rescue, disabling impressive combat armor
it then is dead-set on killing your attacker who is already immobilized and harmless
clearly this is an incredibly competent and dangerous and powerful person
then miki tells you that it IS rin and you finally put it together that not only is this person competent in the field, but it is also calling all its own shots and has truly come here all on its own and volunteered its services to help and protect you without needing to be asked or ordered
so this person is incredibly competent, dangerous, powerful, AND kind, AND fiercely protective, AND reassuring, AND intelligent, AND selfless
and it's still coming up with great ideas and still thinking proactively about how it's going to face down or distract another combatbot as though there's no doubt in the world that it, still bleeding heavily, still unarmored and barely armed, is ready for another round with a terrifying machine that appears to be nothing BUT armor and weapons
so you step forward to help treat its injuries
and it jerks back a step with the single most frightened face you've ever seen, as though you had lifted your arm to inflict pain and it was helpless to stop you
behind you, even miki can read the devastating expression that's breaking your heart and says "abene won't hurt you, secunit"
where did the fearsome fighter from moments ago disappear to?
Ok, it's finally done. Home is a place, home is a person.
This story is my first major piece after several years of art block, and I'm so glad I could finally get back to drawing.
Huge thanks to my dear friend @chancekey for the support.
damn I can't stand you humans and your melodramatic tearful reunions... anyway let me go retreat to the safety of the arms the seat next to my sexy drone spider and watch the television show that it specifically had been saving to watch with me when I came back from the space station from hell because there was no world in which I wouldn't return to it eventually 🙄
Platform Decay posting now that I've finally got to spend time in the tags
Murderbot has in fact freed other secunits before. Multiple times. Do not forget that. But also one time it offered and the combat unit was like I ACTIVELY WANT TO MURDER THE FUCK OUT OF YOU. So. It's cautious.
Three is doing something so developmentally important here. It's NOT just that Three knows it has a team to fall back on if it gets into trouble with the baddies, it's also that Three has figured out it can get in trouble with it's own side and that's ok. It's not thrilled to have pissed off ART but it did it anyways! It now knows it can be in trouble and not get tortured or disassembled over it! It did something it wasn't supposed to and then came home to the people who would be mad about it, even though it didn't have to! It could have run off to keep doing it's own thing but didn't.
I love that Murderbot's POV is so limited because it just only cares about it's own missions. If we hear in 2 books from now about how every SecUnit in the Torus deserted their post and have colonized a moon together or something somewhere Murderbot would just be like "huh". Like there would be an emotion check about it but it's not going to stop it's soap operas for more than 3 minutes about it.
I know the idea of the rogue unit that approached Murderbot recognizing Murderbot as the originator of the code is hilarious, but also, let us consider that if it doesn't recognize Murderbot as the originator of the code that unit is gonna get such a weird view of the world. Like sometimes you live your whole life in shackles and then somebody breaks them for you and you run around and the next SecUnit you run into is already free. You'd have to wonder, then, if freedom is far more normal than you'd realized. And you'd have to think- these free units are doing ok. Maybe I can also be ok. Also, the successful free unit is wearing a highly distinctive garment that must have a tactical purpose given than it is still on a mission. And is telling you to change your clothes. So like...maybe it is tactically useful to wear a very colorful poncho thing. Maybe it should tell the other free units to get those, to. It seems to have been aiding that successful free unit. And thus, free sec unit fashion culture is born.
Have we considered that Jollybaby might actually be trolling Murderbot on purpose? It's sophisticated enough to know that Murderbot is grouchy at it. Maybe it's sticking it giant metal ass in Murderbot's way deliberately.
can't spell friend unit without FU @friend-unit - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
