Rogue Protocol

Throughout the Murderbot Diaries series, Murderbot uses first-person direct address, a method of narration in which the narrator speaks directly to the reader. Unlike second-person narration, which uses “you” pronouns to frame the reader as having a position within the narration, first-person direct address is more implicit in the way it includes the reader. Even so, this technique builds intimacy between a narrator and a reader by reminding readers that they are the direct recipients of the narrator’s recounting of events. First-person direct address has a more structured, more consciously-narrativized format than that of stream-of-consciousness, which also gives a reader access to the full interiority of the narrator.

Murderbot, following this style of narration, regularly notes the ways in which it is constructing a linear narrative; when it engages in fast-paced action sequences, for example, it references backtracking through the different feeds accessible through its and Miki’s cameras to reconstruct the events—presumably for the benefit of the reader it addresses. This builds a rapport between Murderbot and the reader, one that helps human readers engage in the stakes of the novella, particularly as human mentality is placed in a secondary position to that of AI constructs in the text. Readers, therefore, are asked both to feel akin to Murderbot and feel that the characters that are ultimately more like themselves (in species if not in ideology or experiences) are more emotionally distant.

This also helps build stakes when Murderbot’s physical capabilities and vulnerabilities are something that the reader uncovers as Murderbot faces its limits. Murderbot references its different abilities through a human-centric lens, suggesting that it knows the position of its reader; when it escapes through the shattered hatch and onto Ship in Chapter 6, for example, it notes its diminished but not eliminated need for oxygen. It makes offhanded references to having survived things like being ripped to pieces, which builds a portrait of its abilities to withstand injuries in a capacity that far exceeds that of humans. Readers’ ability to connect with Murderbot despite these differences keeps the stakes of the novel pressing, something that contributes to the overall tension of the text.

Additionally, this section of the novel widens the difference between what Murderbot considers the “good humans” on this adventure and the “bad humans.” In Chapter 5, Wilken reveals herself, along with Gerth, as secretly working with GrayCris in a bid to kill the GI assessment team and ensure that the Milu facility collapses into the gravity of the nearby planet. Even before she shows the extent of her deception, however, Wilken suggests her antagonistic position through the way she undervalues Murderbot’s life; she urges Murderbot, whom she assumes to be a regular SecUnit compelled to follow orders, to sacrifice itself. This disregard for Murderbot’s life is framed as negative enough when she purportedly makes this decision to further protect her human clients; it is cast in an even more negative light when she reveals that she planned to get Murderbot killed to aid in her efforts to kill off the entire GI crew for a payout from GrayCris. Her disregard for AI life is portrayed as a form of bigotry, one that is shown to be irrational. When Murderbot presses Wilken to analyze the combat bots’ reasoning, Wilken dismisses this necessity by criticizing the irrationality of “bot brains.” Murderbot thinks this position particularly foolish as bots are less controlled by emotions than are humans but declines to fight Wilken’s bigotry, seeing it as something that it cannot overcome.

Even in the case of so-called “good humans,” the novella suggests that the primary divide remains the one between humans and AI, not between humans with different ideologies or commitments to morality. Though Don Abene is treated overall like she is an ally to Murderbot, these last chapters explore the limits of that allyship, something that connects to the novel’s concern with the Challenges Facing Authentic Relationships Between Humans and AI. Don Abene mentions that she comes from a place where using SecUnits is illegal, something that has led to her never before interacting with a SecUnit. Though this implies Abene’s relative benevolence compared to others who willingly exploit SecUnits, Abene does not strongly protest when Murderbot is pushed into situations that put itself at risk. Instead, Abene’s supposed morality when it comes to exploiting SecUnits emerges as secondary to her own self-interest. As long as Murderbot is on her side, Abene is happy enough to benefit from its labor—something that Murderbot recognizes and, therefore, is able to exploit when it comes to its own scheming. Abene’s friendliness toward Miki may suffer from the same conditionality, though this is not as clearly tested, as Miki’s sole act of defiance against Abene’s control happens only in the construct’s final moments.

Abene and her crew, in the final chapters, also reveal themselves to be complicit in the capitalist corporate structure that creates such problems in the Corporation Rim—no matter that GrayCris has recently tried to have them all murdered. Their plan to reroute the “zipper” containing a combat bot that plans to destroy the supposed terraforming facility does not arise from a moral objective, no matter that it opposes GrayCris, the series’ most powerful antagonist. Rather, the team undertakes this risk in order to preserve the investment that GoodNightLander International, the corporation for which they all work, made when purchasing the facility. The rerouting is successful, but it is this risk that opens their shuttle to the attack by the combat bot, resulting in Miki’s death. Miki, therefore, is not a victim of GrayCris exclusively but is instead killed due to the combined greed of GrayCris and GoodNightLander International—the latter of which is enacted by the humans who purport themselves to be her friends.

Miki’s choice not to accept self-protective reprogramming at the end of the story raises questions about Artificial Intelligence and Personhood. While Miki’s defiance reflects an ability to use her own judgment that had been programmed into her, her free choice to save the humans and Murderbot reflects a sacrificial impulse often ascribed to people. Because she viewed Abene, Murderbot, and other humans as friends—and made choices based on these perceptions—she moves out of the realm of programming and logic into something resembling personhood. That Abene’s gut reaction was to tell Miki to save herself testifies that the human viewed the AI construct on the same level as a fellow human.