I might have a new favorite science-fiction protagonist. The part machine, part human hybride who thinks of itself as (a) Murderbot is genuinely fascinating because it freed itself from outside control to do essentially the same thing it was set up to do. The only (and obviously very crucial) difference is that it does so self-consciously in the literal sense of the word.

On the surface, Murderbot is a somewhat whimsical character. It is decisively detached from its mission and from the scientists it is commissioned to protect. It spends as little time on the actual job as possible, instead watching hours of soap opera in the quieter moments on site. Its almost uncompromising indifference and preoccupation with TV are funny, sure. But more importantly, it's all part of a wonderfully subtle buildup.

To describe the setup in slightly richer terms, we have agency, a deep interest in human emotions and relationships (what else would be presented on the shows?), yet not even the beginnings of hope that it itself could enter into any sort of real relationship with the people it is there to protect. To spice things up, there is also a background of guilt and possibly redemption.

It's amazing to think that all of this is packed into a story that is simply much fun to read. The fast-paced mystery plot is very on-point when it comes to discoveries and it's very visual in its execution. The tech prose feels adequate and adds to the metallic vibe of the rather uninhabitable research site. It's almost as if you have the inevitable TV adaptation already running on your mind (it's coming, right?).

There are surprising twists and some tension, particularly after the team finds out about Murderbot's tinkering with its governor unit, yet Wells has too much taste to go for big shocks or outbursts of feeling. Instead, the story is full of little observations that gradually come together as representing a more meaningful relationship between Murderbot and the (pure) humans.

There is the acknowledgement that interaction between them is to some extent awkward for both parties, and even more so after they saw it without its helmet on. In fact, it itself prefers to wear the armor for "protection" (another sense of being self-conscious). There is the strange moment when it rides in a passenger seat and what this might imply had the humans known about its status. (Was this what it was? In the passenger cabin? I'm not sure anymore.) It saves one of the scientists and is later in turn saved by her. Then there is the debate on whether it can be trusted. Can its action so far be taken as evidence for its well-meaning attitude? At least it appears to demonstrate that it's capable of taking an attitude and that it ought to be treated as a person.

The events have this enticing philosophical dimension throughout. For one thing, there is something striking about the idea of a (part) robot that acts as if it was a robot. Then there is the intricate difference between being contractually obliged and being programmatically determined to do something, especially in the case where no free consent was given to take up the contract. And of course there is the existential demand of setting your own goals to give meaning to your actions, especially prevailing towards the end of the story.

Murderbot is now free to explore the nearby universe on its own. I'm very excited to see where its story goes from here and how it growth further as a person.

Rating: 4/5