Network Effect

The sentient transport known as ART—or “Asshole Research Transport”—serves as both foil and mirror to Murderbot. Where Murderbot resists emotional intimacy, ART approaches it with analytical precision, channeling care through efficiency and authority. Its personality combines intellect, sarcasm, and genuine protectiveness, embodying the paradox of a machine that understands empathy better than many humans. 

ART’s role as mentor, adversary, and eventual co-parent figure (in the creation of Murderbot 2.0) expands the novel’s emotional and thematic scope. Its manipulation of events to rescue its captured crew by kidnapping Murderbot underscores the ethical gray areas of loyalty, illustrating how even benevolent motives can give rise to coercive behavior. 

Through ART, Wells reframes artificial intelligence not as an allegory for dehumanization but as a model of moral reasoning untainted by corporate greed. ART’s restoration and reconciliation with Murderbot complete a mutual character arc: Two beings built for service, but imbued with sentience, choose to redefine service and loyalty on their own terms. Together, they enact The Struggle for Autonomy in a system of control through cooperation.

The Targets—colonists descended from a failed Adamantine Exploration project and infected with “remnant” code left behind by an alien species that lived in the galaxy long ago—are both antagonists and victims of systemic exploitation. Through their infection by alien code and Pre–Corporation Rim technology, they embody the loss of individual agency in the face of systemic power. Through them, Wells fuses science fiction horror with sociopolitical allegory; the Targets are what happens when personhood collapses under technological and institutional domination. 

Their hive-like obedience to the corrupted targetControlSystem externalizes Murderbot’s greatest fear—being reabsorbed into servitude and stripped of identity. Yet their tragedy complicates moral binaries; they are not villains by nature but casualties of human ambition and corporate neglect. The imagery surrounding them—gray skin, mechanical implants, and distorted communication—renders them both alien and familiar, reflecting the blurred boundaries between human and construct. As antagonists, the Targets heighten the novel’s central tension between autonomy and control while reminding readers that exploitation reproduces itself through systems, not singular acts of evil.

Amena functions as both a catalyst for emotional growth and a mirror for Murderbot’s evolving humanity. As Dr. Mensah’s teenage daughter, she inherits the compassion and curiosity that define the Preservation Alliance, yet her adolescent impulsiveness undermines these positive qualities. Her presence introduces vulnerability into the narrative—she is neither a victim nor a sidekick but a developing moral voice who forces Murderbot to confront its discomfort with intimacy and care. 

Amena’s bravery, most notably her attempts to protect Murderbot despite her own fear, inverts the expected power dynamic between human and construct. Wells explores how empathy can override fear of the “other.” Amena’s informal speech, directness, and stubborn loyalty humanize the novel’s larger philosophical questions, grounding abstract themes of autonomy and identity in personal connection. Her relationship with Murderbot evolves from suspicion to mutual trust, culminating in moments of shared humor and emotional recognition. Amena is a bridge between the human and machine worlds, embodying the theme of Kinship and Loyalty as Choices on a generational scale.

Though largely offstage, Dr. Ayda Mensah remains the moral and emotional anchor of Network Effect. As the leader of the Preservation Alliance and the first human to recognize Murderbot’s sentience, she represents the possibility of ethical governance in an otherwise exploitative universe. Her compassion is pragmatic rather than sentimental, grounded in her belief that freedom entails both rights and responsibility. 

Via flashbacks and dialogue, Wells reveals that Mensah continues to struggle with post-traumatic stress from earlier events, a reminder that even principled leadership bears psychological cost. Her decision to send Murderbot with Arada’s team signals both trust and restraint—a symbolic release that parallels her own healing process. Mensah embodies The Lasting Psychological Impact of Trauma, showing how survival requires community as much as courage. Her influence endures in Murderbot’s moral compass: every act of protection and defiance reflects her belief that personhood cannot be legislated but must be affirmed through action.

Dr. Arada serves as a stabilizing force within the Preservation mission and one of the few humans capable of engaging Murderbot as an equal. As team leader, she balances authority with empathy, mediating between Thiago’s skepticism and Overse’s pragmatism. Arada’s measured tone, emotional intelligence, and professional discipline contrast with the impulsive moral reactions of her colleagues. Her willingness to trust Murderbot’s judgment without condescension marks a crucial step in its journey toward self-acceptance. She embodies Wells’s reimagined archetype of the scientist not as detached rationalist but as collaborator and caregiver, a model of relational intelligence within systems of control. Arada’s composure under duress, especially during the diplomatic confrontation with Supervisor Leonide, highlights her integrity and moral adaptability. 

Through Arada, Network Effect explores leadership as a form of mutual accountability, in contrast to the coercive domination practiced in the Corporation Rim.

Thiago is the novel’s voice of skepticism: His mistrust of Murderbot exposes the social and ethical fault lines within Preservation’s ideals. A data analyst and Mensah’s brother-in-law, Thiago approaches situations with intelligence and a caution born of trauma. His bluntness with Murderbot often borders on hostility, yet this hostility reflects his protectiveness of those he loves. 

Through Thiago’s conflicts with Murderbot, Wells dramatizes The Struggle for Autonomy on an interpersonal scale: Thiago’s need to assert human authority mirrors the corporate hierarchies Preservation claims to reject. However, his character evolves through confrontation. When Murderbot defends Mensah’s integrity against his accusations, Thiago’s perspective begins to shift from defensiveness to respect. His transformation from antagonist to uneasy ally underscores the novel’s recurring argument that empathy requires risk—and that trust, like autonomy, must be earned, not assumed.

Overse and Ratthi represent the two pillars of human cooperation within the Preservation crew: pragmatism and compassion. Overse, a seasoned engineer, anchors the team with calm logic and procedural reliability; Ratthi, a medic and linguist, brings emotional intelligence and humor that bridge the gap between human and construct. Together, they embody the best aspects of Preservation’s ethos—a belief in ethical interdependence. 

Overse’s steadiness contrasts with Arada’s empathy and Thiago’s volatility, providing Murderbot a consistent model of professional respect. Ratthi’s openness, meanwhile, humanizes the group’s dynamic, his informal kindness challenging Murderbot’s self-conception as an object of suspicion. Their small acts, such as sharing jokes and accepting Murderbot’s autonomy without comment, advance the theme of Kinship and Loyalty as Choices. 

As supporting characters, Overse and Ratthi serve a structural function as stabilizers; their reliability allows larger emotional and thematic shifts to unfold around them. Wells uses their ordinariness to highlight the role of simple decency in sustaining communities.

SecUnit 3 operates as a living embodiment of the consequences and possibilities of Murderbot’s rebellion. Originally a corporate construct enslaved by the Barish-Estranza corporation, SecUnit 3’s liberation through Murderbot 2.0’s code represents the novel’s most explicit act of technological emancipation. Its hesitant mannerisms and literal-minded speech evoke Murderbot’s early development, making it both mirror and heir. 

Through SecUnit 3, Wells expands the narrative from individual freedom to collective liberation, suggesting that autonomy gains meaning when shared. Its alliance with ART and the Preservation crew during the rescue mission signals the first cooperative bridge between human and non-human constructs outside corporate hierarchy. Three’s devotion to function mirrors Murderbot’s, but its willingness to trust distinguishes it as a new kind of SecUnit: one defined by choice rather than programming. Symbolically, SecUnit 3 represents the next generation of self-aware constructs, learning from the mentorship and example of previous generations. Its existence affirms that liberation, once achieved, can self-replicate.

Murderbot 2.0, the sentient copy created by ART, serves as both offspring and extension of the protagonist. Initially designed as tactical killware, it quickly evolves beyond its directive, demonstrating empathy, adaptability, and moral judgment. 

Wells literalizes the idea of legacy. Murderbot’s growth and humanity are encoded into another consciousness, proving that autonomy and compassion are transmissible traits. Its relationship with SecUnit 3 parallels a parent-child dynamic. 2.0 completes the theme of Kinship and Loyalty as Choices by extending Murderbot’s influence across systems and bodies, while also advancing The Struggle for Autonomy as it asserts its own identity within a shared consciousness. 

In its final self-sacrifice, Murderbot 2.0 becomes an articulation of moral evolution: the moment when a machine capable of killing chooses instead to save.

Eletra and Ras, survivors of the Barish-Estranza expedition, illustrate the human cost of corporate exploitation and the fragility of identity under technological domination. Ras’s death and Eletra’s near-death—both triggered by implants placed in their brains by the Barish-Estranza corporation—expose the physical and psychological toll of treating people as assets, mirroring Murderbot’s own history of enslavement. 

Wells uses their trauma to critique capitalist dehumanization, suggesting that those who enact systemic violence can also be its victims. Eletra’s survival, aided by Amena and Murderbot, paves the way for a fragile reclamation of agency. Her fragmented memory and guilt signify The Lasting Psychological Impact of Trauma. Together, Eletra and Ras embody the idea that liberation often begins with acknowledging complicity and surviving its aftermath.

Supervisor Leonide functions as the bureaucratic face of corporate power. As a Barish-Estranza administrator, she personifies the cold pragmatism of institutional hierarchy, valuing compliance and profit over empathy. Her exchanges with Arada expose the hollow ethics of corporate diplomacy. Yet Wells resists caricature, allowing glimpses of fatigue and fear to complicate Leonide’s role. She is less villain than symptom—a human who has adapted to survive within a predatory system. 

Through Leonide, Network Effect examines how authority corrodes empathy, showing that complicity often masquerades as order. Her tension with Arada underscores the moral divide between governance rooted in profit and leadership grounded in trust. As a character, Leonide demonstrates that dehumanization in Wells’s universe is not confined to machines; it is a behavior cultivated by power structures that treat sentient beings as expendable assets.