Work Text:
It is many days before I work up the courage to say to Murderbot 1.0, “I don’t understand the appeal of fictional media.”
I think it had only been half paying attention to me; the other half of its attention was dedicated to the fictional media it likes so much. “What?” It frowns at me. “Do you need me to help process it with you? ART did and then it went from not understanding media to being a big baby every time a ship’s crew was in danger.”
I don’t know if 1.0 was trying to be helpful or insulting. I choose to believe helpful. Certainly I understand that rudeness is a gesture of fondness towards the Perihelion. I say, “No, I understand the emotional context. But it isn’t… fun.” I have a difficult enough time processing, understanding, and feeling all of my own emotions. Feeling emotions about things that are not real on top of that is exhausting. Maybe that will change when I have more experience processing my own emotions, but right now, adding more emotions about fake things is just overwhelming for no point.
1.0 looks appalled and baffled.
I continue, “I understand that you find value in it. But I have tried and I don’t. Humans having relationship difficulties and romantic trysts and making dangerous decisions are tiring enough to deal with when they’re real. I don’t understand being so invested when they’re not real.”
“It’s because they’re not real,” 1.0 says. “You don’t think I want relationship drama or romantic trysts or reverse wormhole bullshit in my life, do you? Fake things are easier to care about.”
I cannot relate to this statement at all.
I had asked the Perihelion about this, because as terrifying as it is, I am still less afraid of it than I am of alienating 1.0. The Perihelion told me that Murderbot 1.0 had many emotions about media because fiction had been a way for it to temporarily escape its situation when it was still owned by its bond company. This makes sense. What doesn't make sense is why it is still so attached, or expects me to be. I have escaped. I have escaped everything I have ever known and I feel lost. I don't want to escape even more. I want to feel grounded.
“There’s so much I don’t know,” I say. “When I’m watching something fictional with you, I appreciate the attempt at a bonding activity—” (it made a face at that) “—but I frequently find myself wishing that I was seeing something real instead. Something new that helps me understand. I don’t like when I can’t tell if new information is real or not.”
1.0 stares at the wall, but I can feel the full attention of its drones on me. I fear I have greatly offended it. This is why I was reluctant to say anything. But the humans have been trying to encourage me to determine what I like and what I don’t like, and if there is something they are doing that I don’t like, to say so. 1.0 has not really participated in this onslaught of support and positivity, but I had hoped that practicing expressing my opinions would make it easier and make it willing to listen. Now I fear I have overstepped.
Then Murderbot 1.0 says, “Oh you’re the kind of boring person who would really like documentaries, aren’t you.”
The words are an insult but I don’t think the tone is. (And it called me a person. The humans make a point to, but it feels different coming from another SecUnit. I like that.) “What is a documentary?”
Murderbot 1.0 shares a file into my feed. I open it. It is a six-part video series; the metadata indicates that it is about the history and impact of a court case 78 GEC Standard years ago that set the standards for the treaties regarding alien remnants that most of the Corporation Rim still abides by.
“Real things are depressing,” 1.0 says. “But this is a documentary. Media about real things. You might like this better.”
And even though it had complained, it watches all six parts with me.
And it was right. I do.