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“That’s too many,” I said immediately.
These are descriptive terms for the full spectrum of human emotions, ART informed me.
“I’m not human and I don’t care.”
ART had put a colorful diagram in our shared feed with over 100 descriptors for various emotions arranged in three concentric circles: the center had seven wedges labeled with the basic (I guess) emotions (Bad, Sad, Fearful, Angry, Disgusted, Surprised and Happy) surrounded by words for more specific feelings. Apparently, Isolated and Abandoned are types of Lonely, which is a type of Sad, or at least according to the chart.
I may have human neural tissue, but I’m certain I don’t experience all those emotions. I said, “We can get rid of Playful, Aroused and Cheeky” – (whatever the hell that means) – “for starters.” I thought about it for another 0.07 seconds. “Actually, we can simplify this a lot – .” I made some adjustments and then put a new visual back in the feed, which was not so much a diagram, but just the word Anxiety in the middle of one orange circle.
No, ART replied and did the bot equivalent of rolling its eyes massively in the feed. Is the circular chart too complicated for you? Maybe this one is better – (just imagine ART saying that in the most condescending tone possible). It put up a grid of cartoon faces with different expressions, each labeled with an emotion: sad, mad, silly, etc. – all under the heading “My Feelings” in bright, colorful letters. It was a chart for children. And also unhelpful anyways, since my expressions were pretty much always either SecUnit neutral or scowling – trust me on that, I’ve seen plenty of my face on security cameras and through my drones.
Since you are acting childish, I thought this might help.
“I’m not a child,” I said, crossing my arms and standing from the bed in ART’s aft module resident cabin to pace around. It was a standard room with a bunk on one side, a desk with a slim chair on the other and a few empty shelves. It had a small closet where I kept my backpack and an attached lavatory with a shower, which was nice.
I added a few additions around to my orange, single-word diagram and replaced ART’s “My Feelings” grid in the feed. Now the central Anxiety circle was enclosed in a larger one divided into little slices for Disillusioned, Bored, Stressed, Angry, Annoyed, Pissed off (ART’s hundred-word chart did not have Pissed off but I thought it needed the addition), and a bigger slice for Depressed.
I am noticing a distinct lack of positive emotions, ART so helpfully pointed out.
“Yeah.” That was just reflecting reality.
Have you not enjoyed any of your time with Dr. Mensah? Or me? Have you not trusted us? Have we not shown you that you are valued? As it said this, it put the more complicated diagram back up and highlighted Trusting and Valued, which are types of Happy, supposedly.
Uh oh. Now I was losing the discussion.
I knew I was being stubborn. I knew I needed to go through the trauma module now that I had downloaded the one that had been adapted for SecUnits.
Maybe I should back up. A bunch of things had happened recently:
- ART’s wormhole drive had been fully repaired and we’d been able to leave that alien-contaminated nightmare planet (finally) (I can identify that emotion no problem: relief. Holy shit, that planet sucked.) and were now in orbit around PSUMNT.
- ART’s crew, plus me and ART, had finished compiling the after-action report of the incidents on and around said hell planet (with a companion report from my Preservation humans) and submitted it to the University.
- The University President had invited ART’s crew (specifically Seth, Martyn, Tarik and Iris) to an in-person interview to discuss the report (ART explained this was common after complicated missions, and not a sign that everyone was in trouble (even though ART did arm its pathfinders and bomb a colony (just the uninhabited parts though))).
- The University Medical: Mental Intervention Department had modified a mental health module for SecUnits. ART had helped with the code, which was comforting. I had received a briefing on how it worked: basically, I would be prompted to identify my emotional state, initially at regular intervals to establish a baseline/practice, and then whenever my organic hormones met certain thresholds of change.
I had installed the module but hadn’t toggled it on yet. Which is why I was now in my cabin arguing with a bossy machine super-intelligence over how many emotions I might be capable of having.
I had completed a total of one part of one step in the trauma recovery process and didn’t want to continue. Ever since we got the hell out of that system where ART got deleted and I thought it was dead, and I got contaminated and 2.0 sacrificed itself –
SecUnit.
I didn’t really want to revisit all that.
SecUnit, ART said more forcefully. Your stats are dropping.
Right. Get it together, Murderbot. It was probably too late to throw myself out the airlock. “I’m fine,” I said.
You are not fine. That is the whole point of this, ART replied. By becoming more aware of your internal state you will be able to identify an increase in distressful/negative emotions before reaching the point of collapse.
Which, okay, fair. But still…
I sat back down on the edge of the bed.
How are you feeling right now? ART asked, in perhaps the nicest tone it had used in recent memory, which just – I don’t know, but I couldn’t handle that right now.
“Tired,” I answered.
Okay. ART must have decided to give the whole thing a rest, because it started up one of our favorite episodes of Sanctuary Moon without me asking. It didn’t mention the mental health module or prompt me to label my emotions the rest of that cycle.
- 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101-
Seth, Martyn, Tarik and Iris had gone down to the planet to meet with the PSUMNT President in their office. ART and I were streaming the discussion from orbit, on a secured network, in case we were needed to add any information. The discussion progressed chronologically, starting with ART’s arrival in the system. It was all pretty straightforward.
The interview grew long and boring, so I started some media in the background.
Then they had gotten to the part about Three retrieving me from the planet. Iris was maybe glossing over how much ART wanted me back specifically, and instead focusing on needing to destroy TargetContact, the alien remnant infected human body, in order to save the colonists. The President had a question about the encounter and as part of her explanation Iris played Three’s visuals of finding me, and then seeing TargetContact –
The next conscious sensation I had was of ART squeezing me in the feed while the Sanctuary Moon theme song played in the background. I had to get my bearings. Time check: offline = 3.05 seconds.
Shit. I felt like crap, but I needed to know what had happened, so I did a rapid review of my active logs to piece it together.
I hadn’t seen Three’s visuals of our initial meeting before (Three had contributed them to the report). The image of TargetContact’s contaminated face, with the blue eyes and the white crystalline growths trailing out of its mouth and ears, triggered my own visual memory of initially seeing it laying in that creepy, dim room, part of the labyrinth below the colony.
ART had noticed me freeze up because it sent a concerned ping my way, but apparently I didn’t register it. My awareness was instead fully underground with the infected human remains and the smell of dank earth. The corpse reached out and grabbed one of my ankles, hard (which hadn’t actually happened). I felt like I couldn’t get away. My chest felt weird, like I couldn’t breathe in enough oxygen, even though I don’t need all that much compared with humans. My stats were dropping, and I was panicking.
SECUNIT. This time I heard ART, but my thoughts were a mess. I tried to capture what I was feeling: Bad. Closed in – that’s not a feeling, shit. I don’t know. Anxious-Bad-HELP – and shoved the info, jumbled as it was, at ART.
ART was already there, doing the bot equivalent of hugging me (not as bad as it sounds, mostly because the feeling confirmed that I was on ART and not stuck in that contaminated room with that damn corpse). ART had also started up the instrumentals of the Sanctuary Moon theme music on our private feed connection, which was distracting, but in a good way.
I hadn’t had an involuntary shutdown, but that didn’t make me feel much better. I was sweating from my organic skin, which I hoped I could tamp down before my clothes became uncomfortably damp. I hate this, I said, miserable.
I’m right here, ART soothed.
I noticed that the interview continued with Iris talking. ART must not have told them what had just happened with me. I should have continued the mental health module.
ART said, You can continue it whenever you want. It is still there for whenever you are ready.
It was being too nice and I hated it. Fuck off. You’re just saying that because of your trauma protocol training.
No, you little idiot, I’m saying it because I care about you.
Oh.
ART was still squeezing me and I could feel a blast of cold air from the vents against my face (probably ART’s doing, just like the music), which felt – nice. My chest didn’t feel so weirdly tight anymore.
I had to cut ART off from my feed for 0.2 of a second, just so I could have a big emotion in private.
- 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101-
The University President had asked a couple questions toward the end of their discussion that ART had answered. Even with my performance reliability recovered, I didn’t much feel like contributing. When the livestream ended, I told ART, “Okay, I’ll do the thing,” then clarified (because I needed to say it aloud), “I mean, I’ll do the emotion checks for the mental health module.”
If you are ready, it said, and then put that stupid (I know it wasn’t stupid, but I’m still calling it stupid) diagram up again – the one with too many feeling words. The first thing I noted, with some satisfaction, was that ART had added Pissed off between Annoyed and Infuriated, and had removed Aroused and Cheeky. But not Playful for some reason. SecUnits categorically do not play. ART would know I noticed the changes, so I asked it, “Why is Playful still there?”
You have been interacting with Dr. Mensah’s children, ART said in a tone of stating something completely obvious. Children play, SecUnit.
I must have made a face, because ART continued to explain, Play is an invaluable part of human development. When Iris was a child, we used to play games of hide-and-seek with my drones. Of course, I found her easily, but she had fun nonetheless. You might experience Playful at some point.
I remained skeptical about that, but I toggled on the emotion check function without comment.
The module pinged me an initial check.
(Emotion check: Huh, okay. This was hard. I was just standing there in the cabin with ART figuratively hovering over me. Neutral? Is neutral an emotion? I mean, I could just go with low level anxiety or a mild creeping sense of nonspecific dread as a default.)
I sent my thought process to ART, who responded, Noticing a low level of anxiety will help you feel if/when it worsens. This is a good start.
It is? Call me surprised. Okay Murderbot, maybe you can do this.
So the checks continued at regular intervals during our time in PSUMNT airspace, while ART waited to receive maintenance and repairs, most of ART’s crew took leave and Three mostly watched educational media with Holism.
Many of my responses I would clip and send to ART for feedback. Even though ART didn’t experience emotions in the same way I or humans did, we had watched and discussed enough media together that ART could provide some input.
With ART’s suggestions, my vague labels of I’m not sure, neutral-positive? converted to Content and neutral-negative usually became Bored.
Not a lot of big, complex emotions happen when you’re just floating in orbit, waiting for another assignment. ART suggested we go through and try to retroactively identify some emotions I’d had when dealing with that contaminated nightmare system, since that whole experience had triggered the involuntary shutdown. While I reclined on the bunk in my room, we went through it all, discussing it in code instead of visuals from my memory archives, since ART said that might decrease the chances of a visual flashback.
I labeled horrified, isolated, hurt, annoyed, provoked, anxious, overwhelmed and stressed. It was not really fun to go back through all that, but it felt necessary. ART played along and identified threatened and aggressive for itself.
After we had run through the entire timeline of those events, ART pointed out, That is multiple specific negative emotions. Understandable for those experiences, however I can’t help but notice that you have not acknowledged any happy/positive-surprised emotions, other than content since starting this process.
So, here’s the thing, I had actually noticed that myself already, and had wondered if happy was just a sentiment I didn’t experience much beyond a brief, generalized sense of relief that things were not currently going to shit.
I ran a query in my media storage for characters smiling and dialogue keywords denoting happiness (joy, optimistic, excited, etc.) and it returned lots of scenes of humans doing things like making jokes, winning awards, attending parties (lots and lots of parties – birthday parties, holiday parties, parties after ceremonies. Why did humans have so many parties?) accompanied by characters smiling, hugging, cheering and laughing. And I just – didn’t do all that.
My query did return one type of scene I had experience with: reunions. In my media, characters usually expressed positive feelings when reuniting with marital partners, family or friends/crew. However, my analysis concluded that 85% of fictional reunions were preceded by traumatic separations (kidnappings, natural disasters, temporary deaths, etc.) and in my own experiences, that figure was right at 100%. So, any happiness at reuniting with ART/my humans had also come with a lot of frustration, anger and/or stress. Maybe I was just bad at positive emotions.
I summarized my analysis and conclusion and sent it to ART by way of explanation.
You are a SecUnit, not a human, ART said. The way you emote/express happiness may be different. You can learn to recognize it in yourself.
Oh, so now it’s relevant that I’m not human. I rolled my eyes.
What about when you hacked your governor module? ART asked.
“ART, do you expect me to say I felt overjoyed? I wasn’t,” I said a little too defensively. “I felt shocked I wasn’t getting my brain fried, pissed off at the company for all those times I got my brain fried, and anxious – “ (there’s that anxiety again) – “I’d be discovered and get my brain… well, you know.” See, three emotions right there. I’m doing great at this identification thing. Yay me.
What about when you saved your humans from GrayCris?
“Sure, relief, I guess.” I thought of those assholes trying very hard to kill my Preservation humans. “But mostly anger. I was mostly fucking furious.”
And when Dr. Mensah bought out your contract and you were free from the company? ART prodded.
“When I was so ‘happy’ I immediately ran off?” I snapped, annoyed and thinking of all my complicated feelings about technically still being owned by someone (sorry, I mean “under the guardianship of”), even if that someone was Dr. Mensah, who was wonderful and a person I liked very much.
You’ve made your point, ART said and shut up, but not in a good way, and it didn’t feel like a victory. You know how humans will glare and make that short, disapproving “hm” noise, like they are really irritated but they are done with the conversation right now? Yeah, ART did the bot equivalent of that and said no more about the subject.
Which definitely meant I was going to hear its opinion eventually.
- 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101-
Later that cycle, ART informed me that the PSUMNT maintenance team that had just arrived onboard would be installing resupply and repair leads along with making some minor upgrades in my cabin as part of their work. ART and I had previously agreed that the leads would be a convenient addition because that meant I didn’t need to go to the medical suite for repairs. ART told me I could assist Martyn in packing up botanical research samples from the alien virus planet for transport to the University lab while maintenance did its thing.
Thankfully, Martyn was pretty focused and didn’t attempt a lot of small talk as we labeled and wrapped up a variety of weird leaves, stems and root samples – weird looking, not alien contaminated. It was all just as tedious as it sounds.
As we were finishing up, ART pinged me that maintenance was done, which I acknowledged.
Slowly, like ART didn’t want me to notice (but I absolutely did notice), a good portion of ART’s attention draped across me like a very large, very nosy sentient blanket. ART, what? I asked it over our private connection.
Nothing, ART said.
Okay, that’s a bit suspicious. Just because ART lies a lot doesn’t mean it’s a good liar. The weight of ART’s presence followed me all the way to my room.
When I opened my door, I spent 0.006 seconds wondering if I took a wrong turn and ended up in the wrong place. I’m not sure what I expected with “minor upgrades” but it wasn’t this. In addition to the shiny new wall panel with the resupply and repair lines, there was a bunch of other stuff, too. (Emotion check: Definitely surprised.)
On the aft wall directly in front of me, formerly a blank expanse of blue-gray, were two large posters: one with the characters of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon and the other for MedCenter Argala.
ART had… decorated?
To the left, on a previously empty shelf, were three images in clear frames. I could feel the majority of ART’s attention pointed at me as I moved into the room and picked up the first frame. It was a picture of my Preservation humans: Mensah, Pin-Lee, Arada and Overse kneeling in the front row, and standing behind them Ratthi, Gurathin, Bharadwaj and Volescu, shoulder to shoulder and all smiling together. It looked like it might have been taken before they left Preservation for our doomed survey mission. (Where did ART even get this picture? Ratthi? Probably Ratthi. Or maybe Amena.)
The second image was a close-up of me, standing next to Mensah, my favorite human, who was smiling in my direction. Based on the location (ART’s lounge) and Mensah’s outfit (with an official Preservation logo), ART must have pulled a still from one of its security cameras from when its crew and my humans were saying goodbye before everyone departed the hell planet system. Mensah looked calm and happy, and maybe a little tired.
The third picture was a wide shot of ART’s bridge, no one on it except for me sitting in the captain’s chair. Judging by my unfocused expression, I was probably watching media with ART. It was an image of the two of us hanging out together.
The word was still so difficult to acknowledge, but these were my… friends, that I would be reminded of anytime I was in my room. (Emotion check: Another one already? I couldn’t put it into words yet, but it all felt nearly overwhelming.)
Next to the bunk, practically taking up half the floor space of the room, was a big-ass chair.
ART finally said something, The new seating is for more comfortably watching media. It sent me the specs for the chair, which read like an advertisement describing the soft fabric covering overstuffed cushions, optional rocking motions, and adjustable footrest. I had never sat in a chair with a special extension for resting my feet (non-organic as they were, but still). I put my hand on the wide armrest and squeezed, just to feel the softness of the material and the give of the padding. I hope you like it, ART said.
I took it all in: the posters, the images, the comfy chair. In the entire time since I had hacked my governor module, I had never had a room with any personal mementos. Even in my room on Preservation station, I hadn’t bothered.
Yeah, those overwhelming emotions suddenly got even more overwhelming. I had to walk over to the corner and stare at the wall for a full minute. When I finally turned around, I said, “I like it. I like all of it.”
ART said, There is one more thing, but maybe now is not a good time.
“No, I want to see it,” I said immediately.
ART continued, There was no question that you’d be allowed to stay, but this makes it official. It put a document up in our shared feed: it was a letter, with the PSUMNT letterhead and signed by the PSUMNT President, with a formal offer for me to join the Perihelion crew. I had to read it twice just to let it sink in.
It meant I had official approval to stay with ART. We could be together.
I hadn’t known ART had made the request. I didn’t know if ART had gotten any pushback over me being a SecUnit. It just made it happen. And it made this cabin into my home, really mine.
(Emotion check: Good, wow. But that was too vague. ART had encouraged specifics, and if it could do all this for me, then I could make the effort. I tried to take this rush of big, positive feelings and capture it all in words. I sent it all to ART before I could overthink it - )
Emotion check: Happy, thankful, optimistic, excited, free, I put in our shared connection.
I could feel something like its own happiness in response. After a moment, ART said, You’re welcome. And I feel the same.