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rjalker · 2 years

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Something About Hope and Kindness and Killing the Rich.

I didn't plan to write any fanfiction for The Murderbot Diaries but, well, that didn't last long. It/its pronouns are not just for fictional robots. So have some pro-it/its pronouns propaganda.

Summary: One of Dr. Mensah's children comes out to Murderbot as nonbinary, before telling anyone else.

Meant to be taking place at least a few years in the nebulous future, no specific date or anything. I made up names for two more of Amena's siblings since she has six of them. I also just made up a plot for part of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon because come on, it's Murderbot's favorite show. Why don't we know anything about what happens in it? It's just unrealistic.

Words: 11,200.

I finished writing it on June 19th 2022. There are as of this moment six books and one short story. If you've read all those and read this and see a name or an event that's unfamiliar, assume I made it up to fill out this little mini somewhere-in-the-future universe. The storm thing is 100% made up. As are the acid spitting foxes.

You can read it on fanfiction.net here if you want to leave an anonymous review, or you can just read it here on tumblr below the read-more.

there might be some random typos that I missed the last time I checked through it because I'm sick right now and keep getting distracted when I try to proofread it again. Let me know if you find any random mistakes (in replies or reblogs rather than leaving a review on ff.net)

I don't think there are any spoilers, since most of the stuff referenced in this is just made up, lol...

===================

Murderbot stared at the folded up piece of paper that had landed next to its feet, which were currently bare on the soft carpeting. The remains of what had been its shoes were still out in the woods somewhere, probably either being torn to shreds by the cubs, or being melted even further by their furious parents.

It had been looking at the patches of fresh metal on its feet, trying to decide whether it liked the new texture or not, and rewatching the last episode of Farscape for the tenth time, when the paper landed.

The paper was white, and had been folded into the shape of a paper shuttle, with “read” and “me” written across the tops of the wings in thick black marker.

Murderbot paused the episode, but didn’t look up from the floor, it just said into the newly-functional, short-range only feed, ::Why.::

Tamara was sitting on the opposite side of the room, hidden behind the back of the sofa. Out of the corner of its eye, it had watched her stand up, throw the paper, and then duck back down out of sight.

She replied out loud, sounding stubborn. “Read it and find out.”

“You’re interrupting my show.” Murderbot pointed out. Usually Dr. Mensah's family was more polite than this.

“You’re not at work, I’m allowed to.” Tamara retorted from behind the couch.

Murderbot rolled its eyes, but bent to pick up the paper, now curious despite itself. Tamara usually wasn't one to be sarcastic.

It could hear her over there scratching away with a pen, going back to writing, presumably on other paper shuttles. Why she wasn’t just doing it in a feed document, since the feed was accessible again, it didn’t understand. Humans were weird.

But maybe it was homework. The people of Preservation thought that teaching their kids how to read and write the old fashioned way was important.

Murderbot unfolded the paper, and found that the inside was striped with different colors. So that meant this was that special kind of paper they made just for folding shapes out of. So probably not homework, unless the homework was throwing paper shuttles at the local SecUnit. Or maybe the homework was just origami in general. With Preservation, you never knew.

The paper was cyan at the top (once Murderbot figured out which way the handwriting was supposed to go), then darker blue, then white, then purple, then cyan again, with white dotted lines and arrows lining the creases where it had been folded.

Tamara had written on it in some sort of thin but deep black ink, with handwriting that started off neat and tidy and centered, but then got progressively more crooked as it went down the page. So clearly she needed more lessons on proper handwriting.

The paper read,

-Hi SecUnit.

I'm writing this on paper because I think if I tried to say it out loud I'd get nervous and mess it up and just end up confusing everyone. So instead of doing that, I'm writing it down. I could go on and on for pages explaining all the details, but I don't think you'd be interested, so I'm just going to say it without beating around the bush.

I'm trans, or transgender, since I don't know if you've heard of it before.- (Murderbot had, in fact, heard of it before. Many times, in fact. It was trans itself, not that it let many people figure that out) -It means someone who's not the gender everyone assumed they were when they were born.

I'm trans. I'm not a girl, and I'm not a boy either. I'm not a woman or a man. I'm nowhere in between. I’m something else. I'm non-binary. I've decided I want to change my name and pronouns, and I wanted to tell you and everyone else I know in person first, before I change them in the feed and make it public.

I could just change them in the feed, or put out a notification for everyone, and let them figure it out for themselves, but then I would be tempted to delete it before anyone can read it, and this way I can't chicken out. Also because all three of my parents would probably cry forever and never forgive themselves if they thought I was too scared to tell them myself.

So this is me coming out, at least to you, SecUnit. I'm trans. I'm nonbinary. I want to be called it, instead of she, the way you are. I'm kind of stealing your pronouns. I hope you aren't mad about that, because I really like it/its pronouns. I like how they look and sound, and I like the way they make me feel.

I'm not a she, I'm not a he, or a they, or a de, or an ae, or an e. I'm an it. And I'm an enby. And someday when I'm older I'll be a nonbi.

So please call me by it/its pronouns from now on, rather than she/her.

And as for my name changing, I want to be called Evrim from now on. So update your internal tagging system or however it is you remember people's names and pronouns and stuff :)

Don't tell anyone until I give them their letters, okay? Once I tell everyone I know, I'll update my feed profile, but for now, please just keep using my old name and pronouns if other people are nearby, I don't want anyone blabbing about it to my friends before I get a chance to tell them. But if it's just the two of us, it would be awesome if you would call me Evrim and by it/its pronouns :)

Signed,

Evrim Eshayda Mensah.

Ps: Yes I’m also changing my middle name. Yes that is a name I made up. It’s my name, I can do what I want.

Pps: But seriously, don't tell anyone.-

Murderbot read through the paper again, just to make sure it wasn’t reading the handwriting wrong.

It wasn’t sure what it had been expecting to find when it picked up the paper shuttle, but it certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

It realized that it recognized the colors on the paper, now that it had the context of what was written on it.

Cyan, blue, white, purple, and cyan was one of the gender pride flags used by people outside the Corporation Rim, though Murderbot couldn’t remember what this one was called. It had appeared in a few of the shows it had downloaded since it had first come to Preservation space.

Od Saga, the time-traveling archaeologist from the Aftermath series, used it along with dozens of other pride flags, including what was apparently the original trans pride flag, which was blue, pink, white, pink, and blue, from back before history was really even worth keeping track of.

Except the humans of Preservation seemed to really care about remembering as much history as they could, which is why they still knew what the original flag looked like.

It was also why the Farscape show still existed. Someone all the way back in stupid times had decided to preserve the show, and kept updating the preservation technique as technology progressed, so that all throughought history it kept being saved and updated and preserved. All so that humans and bots and constructs could keep enjoying it. There’d been no money involved in the scheme, it was all done just because someone could, so they could share it with others.

They had the original version that had been in English, as well as different translations into other languages, and some that updated it to have more modern language, since a lot of humans struggled to understand the original at this point after how much languages had evolved since it had been written.

Murderbot read through the paper one more time, just to make sure it wasn’t struggling to understand. Usually it could read a lot faster, much faster than a human, but the handwriting wasn’t exactly standard feed text, and that was tripping it up a little bit. Evrim added little details to the letters that made some of them overlap and run together, which took a little getting used to.

It got to the end of the page again.

And then it hesitated.

It had watched plenty of scenarios like this in all the media it had watched. There were whole movies that revolved around exactly this situation. It knew what the right way for characters to react was－acceptance, reassurance, comforting－and what the wrong way to react was. It knew what kinds of things its favorite characters would be saying in this sort of situation, it could even imagine their voices clearly in its head.

But it didn’t know how it, Murderbot, was supposed to react, what it, Murderbot, was supposed to say.

It lowered the paper down to its side, and started with the most basic thing it could do that was the right thing to do.

It went to its memory files, and updated [Tamara, Dr. Mensah’s second-eldest daughter, she/her/hers/herself] to [Evrim, Dr. Mensah’s...]

...And, okay, there was a problem there already; it didn’t know what the equivalent term for daughter or son was in this situation.

If Evrim were tercera, it would be shiary, which it remembered from when it had met Rami, and ART had frantically researched what ‘tercera’ meant. But Evrim hadn’t said it was tercera, it had just said it was nonbinary, which could mean any of thousands of genders, including "just nombinary". Which meant Murderbot would have to ask if it had a specific one in mind, and what word it should be replacing ‘daughter’ with.

For now, it settled for, [Evrim, Dr. Mensah’s eldest nonbinary offspring, it/it/its/itself].

Okay, that was done.

What else could it do? It still didn’t know what to say. It had really hoped it would somehow magically know once it updated the info, but no such luck.

Evrim had gone quiet, no longer even writing. If Murderbot had its drones, it would have been able to see what it was doing, but they’d all needed to go in for repair after "the storm of the century" as the humans were calling it, and none of the cameras in this house were functioning yet either. So all it had to see with were its eyes.

Murderbot hesitated, listening to see if Evrim was going to do or say anything. But there was just quiet, like Evrim was even holding its breath in anticipation.

Murderbot might not know how to talk to humans very well, but it had enough experience not wanting people to look at it to know when to return the gesture. Evrim had hidden behind the couch out of sight for a reason. If it wanted to be seen, it would come out.

So Murderbot stayed where it was, flexing the joints in one foot on the soft carpet to test the work-through it had gotten at the clinic, and said, “Evrim is a good name.” That was true, so that made it easy enough to say, despite the nervous sweat it could feel breaking out on its organic parts.

It was also easy enough to say, “I’m not mad about you wanting to be called it/its, that would be stupid. It’s not like I own them or anything. I don’t think you even have propietary pronouns out here in the－”

Evrim exclaimed, “What!?” and Murderbot's heart-rate went up a notch in startlement, before it heard Evrim moving behind the couch.

Murderbot stopped talking, trying to calm its heart-rate back down without drawing attention to the fact that it was quietly freaking out.

Evrim's face appeared out of the corner of its eye, staring over the back of the sofa, its eyes wide and indignant as it demanded, “You have proprietary pronouns in the Corporation Rim?” Murderbot could smell the anxiety pouring off of Evrim, which wasn't actually reassuring at all. It was worried about messing up and hurting Evrim's feelings. Evrim already being this afraid was just making it more worried.

Murderbot kept its gaze on its feet as it answered, being excruciatingly careful to keep its voice sounding calm and normal so it wouldn't startle Evrim into hiding back behind the couch. This would be easier if it could avoid making any eye contact at all, it gave it more room to think. If it could have gone to face the wall without definitely making Evrim think it hated it, it would have. But doing that would definitely be disastrous.

Evrim clearly wanted to change the subject, so Murderbot very gratefully let it. It could remember all the times it had wanted to change the subject and hadn’t been allowed to. So it said, carefully going along with the change of subject as it explained, “Yes. Corporations lease them out, and you have to pay a subscription fee if you want to use them. And then it costs extra for the company you’re renting them from to guarantee that other corporations will use those pronouns when contracting with you.” it could feel its heart-rate going back down slowly. The Corporation Rim was one of its most hated places, but at least that was a familiar negativity it knew how to deal with.

The fear of accidentally destroying the trust someone was placing in it by coming out to it was a brand new fear that it could never have imagined it would be facing.

There was a moment of silence while Evrim digested what it had said. Then Evrim said, slowly, disbelievingly, its fear-smell fading as it also calmed down slightly, “So you’re telling me that not only do you have to pay to use pronouns in the first place, you have to pay extra to not be misgendered?”

“You pay extra to ensure the corporations that have signed agreements with whoever you’re renting them from won’t misgender you.” Murderbot corrected, feeling its levels returning almost ti normal, “It costs even more after that if you want to make it a punishable offense for anyone else to use the wrong pronouns.”

Murderbot could feel Evrim staring at it. That tended to happen whenever it talked about what life was like in the Corporation Rim. Most people on Preservation couldn't even imagine it.

Then Evrim asked, “If they’re that evil, then why haven’t we－” Evrim lifted its arms to gesture expansively, probably trying to indicate Preservation as a whole, “Gone in and killed the people in charge yet?” It sounded disbelieving and angry and slightly desperate. That was also usually how it reacted any time it learned about anything that happened in the Corporation Rim. Though it hadn't started out with violent suggestions, those were increasing in frequency as time went on and it learned more and more.

Murderbot almost laughed, the idea was so stupid. But at least with Evrim it didn’t have to worry about it actually trying to enact any kind of plan like that, at least not yet. Evrim couldn’t leave the planet without permission from a parent or guardian (because it turns out humans could be the guardians of other humans too, not just bots and constructs they were pretending were free), and even if Evrim could go by itself, it wouldn’t be able to buy any weapons.

‘why hadn’t Preservation launched a war against the Corporation Rim’ was such an absurd question it was almost funny. Almost.

“Because you don’t have enough guns or ships or soldiers to kill them with.” Murderbot said, “And even if you did, they have SecUnits to use as canon fodder, and you don’t. Their soldiers are expendable. Yours aren’t. It wouldn’t work.”

Evrim sighed, drooping. “I know,” It said, sounding resigned, “I just wish I could do something to help those people over there. No one deserves to live under rules like that. It’s so unfair...” It trailed off. "And you're not expendable." It added, like it expected Murderbot to argue the point.

"I was." Murderbot said simply. This wasn’t an argument, this was just a fact. "For most of my existence, I was expendable." It didn’t know why humans always acted like the way it had been treated was something it needed to be convinced was bad. Just because it knew it was expendable didn’t mean it didn’t care if it lived or died. It couldn’t watch media if it was dead. There was a difference between being expendable and not caring whether you lived or died.

Evrim didn't seem to know what to say to that, and seemed to realize there wasn’t any point in trying to argue with the literal facts, and Muderbot didn't feel like talking about it at all (talking about the Corporation Rim? Fine. Talking about itself in particular? Not so fine), so it didn't elaborate, and silence fell over the room.

After at least two minutes of it awkwardly fidgeting over on the sofa, where Murderbot stood there looking at its feet and wondering what or if it should say anything at all, Evrim asked softly, hopefully, “So you really like my name?”

And they were back on topic again. Awesome. Murderbot was totally prepared for this.

At least this question had an easy answer. “I wouldn’t have said I liked your name if I didn’t mean it." It said truthfully, "It’s a nice name, especially because you’re choosing it for yourself. No one can take it away from you.” It didn't know what the name Evrim meant, but it sounded nice, and it knew Evrim wouldn't have just picked something at complete random that it didn't really like.

Out of the corner of its eye, it saw Evrim push itself upright, then swing its legs over the side of the couch so that it was sitting on the back of it, its toes hanging down just above the carpeted floor. “So you’ll call me it?" It checked, "Just when no one else is around, I mean?”

“Yes, I’ll call you it.” Murderbot assured, less nervous now, for some reason. It using Evrim's pronouns wasn’t even in question, though there was one small hiccup in the request, “Though if we’re the only ones in the room, I don’t think there will be much opportunity for me to call you it, unless you want me to talk about you like you aren’t here. Which, I mean, I can do that if you really want.”

Evrim paused, as if caught off-guard, then admitted, slightly sheepish, “No, that is a good point. I didn’t even think of that.” It started bouncing its feet off the back of the sofa one at a time, which helped further lower Murderbot's anxiety levels as Evrim continued, “Well, you don’t have to talk differently than you normally do, but if you can at least call me Evrim instead of Tamara, I’ll be happy.”

“I already updated my tag for you.” Murderbot assured, and figured that if it was going to ask, now would be the time to do it. “I sort people by relationships, and since you’re nonbinary and not a girl, I assume you won’t want to be called ‘daughter’ anymore, so what should I put instead? I’m a little familiar with the nonbinary gender known as tercera, and a tercera offspring would be called a shiary, but I wasn’t sure if you had a specific gender in mind, so I wanted to ask what word I should use instead.”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because Evrim went silent, and stopped bouncing its feet on the couch, which was almost definitely a sign that it was upset. Evrim liked bouncing its feet on the couch. Murderbot looked up, afraid of what it would see but needing to know how much it had just fucked up. So much for starting to think the conversation had been going well! Murderbot was never going to talk to a human it cared about ever again!

Evrim must have seen how worried Murderbot was, because it threw its hands up and said quickly, “I’m not mad! I’m－I’m so happy I don’t even have words for it!” It was grinning so widely it looked painful, and tears were forming in its eyes. “I’m not crying because I’m mad, I’m crying because I’m happy!” It insisted, even as its voice wavered on the edge of breaking.

As though to prove it, it leapt off the couch and was across the room in just a few long strides, coming to stand in front of Murderbot, its hands held behind its back. “I’m not going to touch you, don’t worry, I’m not an asshole, but I just...” Its grin somehow got even wider, and it was definitely starting to cry now for real, and Murderbot had to look away. That was just way too intense a level of eye contact for it to handle right now. It looked down back at the floor, unable to think of anything else to do that didn’t include running away.

And okay, wow, it was just now noticing that Evrim’s shoes were in the same colors as the pride flag that had been on the paper. It didn’t have stripes, but now that Murderbot knew what to look for, it was really obvious. The main parts of the shoes were cyan, with little blue and purple star-shapes scattered across it, and white detailing. The colors matched the paper exactly, like they’d been color-picked from the same source image.

And there was still some moss and dirt clinging to the seams of the leather.

Evrim said, with no less happiness in its voice even though it was clearly struggling to stop itself from crying, “I’m just really happy, okay? I promise I’m crying from happiness, I’m not upset. You can call me sapling, like a baby tree.”

Like the dozens of species of trees it had wanted to show Murderbot, which was why they’d been out in the woods in the first place. It was this planet’s version of spring, so the trees were doing what passed for flowering in this area. Well, the ones that had survived the storm were. Most of them had been knocked over by the wind or flood waters or by older trees falling and crushing them.

Sapling, okay. That was easy enough, and it sort of made sense. Trees weren’t male or female, or at least they weren’t on this planet. (Evrim had been going on and on and on about the different species of trees found in this area and what made the things they called ‘trees’ on Preservation different from the ‘trees’ that had once been found on ancient Earth, but Murderbot didn’t really understand any of it. Biology was not its strong suit, and killing hostile life-forms didn't exactly serve much in the way of education.)

So Evrim was Dr. Mensah’s sapling, not daughter.

Murderbot went to its memory files, and changed the tag to, [Evrim, Dr. Mensah’s sapling, it/it/its/itself].

“Done.” It said. Evrim sounded like it had gotten itself back under control, so Murderbot lifted its gaze from the floor so it could cautiously stare past Evrim’s shoulder.

Murderbot's jacket was still lying on the floor by the door, holes burned through the sleeves so that it could see the floral-patterned wall through them. It was a really nice leather jacket Ratthi’s sister had made for it, out of the hide of some animal oh-so creatively called a “mazus animal”, named so because apparently it looked like some sort of flower from Earth. The humans hunted them for food and to make clothes and other stuff like perfume out of.

Murderbot had really liked that jacket, since with the multiple layers of leather, it was tough enough to survive most of the falls and tumbles and some of the knife attacks Murderbot tended to find itself getting into, with only a few patches needed here and there to fix the damage. Or at least it had been.

Evrim interrupted Murderbot’s regretful thoughts by saying, “Thank you again, third-mom. Or, I wanted to ask, is there another word you’d prefer I use for you? I realize I should have asked before. I’m sorry about that, I heard Amena call you that and just, never really thought to ask if it was really okay...I know you’re agender...” It trailed off, clearly feeling embarrassed and guilty, not unlike how Murderbot had been feeling just a few seconds ago, before Evrim assured it that it wasn't upset.

The question gave Murderbot pause, and it stopped to think about it.

This was the fifth time Evrim had called it its third-mom. And it had stopped keeping track of the times Amena had called it that.

It definitely wasn’t one of their moms, adoptive or otherwise, since that would probably require joining Dr. Mensah’s marriage group and that was just... No.

That would be weird and gross, and probably illegal.

(Murderbot was pretty sure it was illegal for a human guardian to marry their ward. They probably considered it highly unethical and probably just thinking about it would get Dr. Mensah arrested for abuse. If Dr. Mensah ever proposed getting married, Murderbot might just kill her itself just on principle. It fucking hated the way humans romanticized slaves falling in love with their owners, even when they were replacing the word ‘slave’ with ‘ward’ and ‘owner’ with ‘guardian’.)

But no. It was not Evrim’s or Amena's mom, because it wasn’t part of their parents’ marriage group and it didn’t want to be.

(And it’s not like it had had any reason to go looking up how that worked. Dr. Mensah was its friend, not...whatever it was humans were to each other that they decided to get married. But then again, there were some human characters on its shows who were friends who got married, as queerplatonic partners, but -

-it was overthinking this.)

It was not part of Dr. Mensah’s marriage group, and it wasn’t biologically related to Evrim in any way. It was not one of its moms, and anyways, the word ‘mom’ came loaded with gender connections that Murderbot didn’t want anything to do with.

It wished ART were there, its processing speed was so much faster, it could have looked up a list of terms and sorted them according to gender connotations and familiarity levels before Murderbot was even done thinking about how much it missed it.

It didn’t want to be called third-mom, it knew that. It is never actually mentioned having a problem with it before because usually, they were in a life-threatening situation and it had almost literally a million other things to be worried about.

And it could just tell Evrim to call it SecUnit, but Evrim clearly wanted to have a more familiar nickname for it. SecUnit was technically already a nickname, but this was different...

There were a lot of characters from its media that were nonbinary, and they used different words for eachother and their relationships. Eden, one of its favorite characters from The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, used it/its pronouns, even though it was human.

Eden had several adopted children and wards, and one of them, Becky, was old enough when they were adopted that they didn’t want to call Eden their vare, which was one of the words used in the section of space the show was supposed to be taking place in that meant a nonbinary parent, so instead of calling Eden ‘vare’ or ‘vareth’ or ‘vari’ like the others did, Becky called it ‘avaun’, which was the nonbianry equivalent to the words ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, which were technially meant for siblings of a parent, but a lot of humans used them for close friends of the family. You didn’t actually have to be related, legally or biologically, to anyone in the family in question to be an aunt, uncle, or avaun.

Becky and Eden’s relationship had started out strained and rocky because of a plot by the woodworker’s son to convert Becky over to his side (which was the worst possible side) of the political spectrum, and had been convincing them of all sorts of horrible things, one of which being that nonbinry people weren’t real, so Eden wasn’t even really their ‘avaun’, it was just saying it wasn’t a man or a woman to be special and to get special services and privileges from the supply ships. (Even though Eden didn’t take any medication related to being nonbinary and didn't get any special priveledges for being nonbinary. It certainly wasn't getting the privilege of having its identity respected, and since the woodworker’s son couldn't decide if Eden was really a man or a woman, he constantly switched back and forth between calling Eden he or she, depending on how insulting he was being at the moment. And whenever he was insulting it, he referred to Eden as ‘she’. Because did Murderbot forget to mention that the woodworker’s son was a massive misogynist? Because the woodworker's son was also a massive misogynist on top of hating nonbinary people.)

This whole ordeal had been compounded by the fact that Becky was still figuring out that they were nonbinary themself, and the insecurity and self-doubt had only intensified and been turned outward by the woodworker’s son’s manipulation, until Becky was being hostile and offensive to not only Eden, but their adoptive siblings as well.

It had been extremely stressful to watch, since Murderbot really liked Eden and didn’t want its relationship with Becky to be ruined by some creep who couldn’t even admit to his own father that he didn’t like woodworking and wanted to become a terraforming biologist instead.

(Not to mention the fact that he’d clearly decided that the only way for him to earn respect as a trans man was to attack other trans people, especially those who were nonbinary, in order to make them seem like easier, more deserving targets than him. And the sad part was that the people he hung out with, that he was so desperate to be accepted by, didn’t even actually respect him. Any time he left the scene, the moment he was out of sight or earshot the others laughed at him and mocked him behind his back. They tolerated his presence only because they found it amusing to watch him attack their other targets. And the second he got out of line, the second he diverged too far from the things they would accept, they would turn on him. They weren’t his allies, he was their entertainment.)

Things had all come to a head when one of Becky’s cruel comments had made one of the younger adoptive children run away from home just a day before the annual locustorms were predicted to begin, and the whole town had had to drop everything and go out to find her.

They’d found her eventually, after Becky started a fight with Eden that Eden couldn’t ignore. They had to stop the fight to rescue the kid, who’d fallen into the river and was trapped in one of the side pools, and Becky had been forced to cooperate with Eden, and had to face the harsh truth that what they’d said had put their little sister in this position in the first place and almost gotten her killed. Becky had to learn that their actions and words had consequences, and taking out their own insecurities and issues on other people just caused more problems instead of solving anything...

...and Murderbot only realized that it had gotten distracted when Evrim shifted its weight. Humans couldn’t stand still for very long without moving, and Evrim was probably getting bored or impatient, or thought Murderbot was just ignoring its question.

“You can call me avaun.” Murderbot said, and apparently it shouldn’t have spoken so suddenly, since Evrim jumped a little in surprise. Murderbot continued, pretending it hadn’t noticed to try and save Evrim the embarassment, “It’s one of the nonbinary equivalents for aunt and uncle.”

Evrim grinned, its smile plain even though Murderbot wasn't looking directly at it. “Alright, it’s a deal. You’re my avaun, and I’m your sapling.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Okay now Murderbot realized what had just happened.

Maybe it should have clarified that it was asking, ’what word for offspring should I use for you in relation to Dr. Mensah’...

Because now Evrim thought it had been asking because Murderbot was referring to it as its own offspring.

Hmm.

Well...

...What difference did it make, really?

None that it could think of.

So it updated the tag to, [Evrim, adopted sapling, it/it/its/itself].

Then, remembering how confused it had been when its memory had crashed, it added a minor tag, labeled, [sapling definition: nonbinary offspring].

At some point it would have to attach a more detailed journal, but that could wait.

Then it smiled, still looking past Evrim’s shoulder at its ruined jacket. It had really liked that jacket. It wasn’t the sort of jacket you could just get printed at any old kiosk, unfortunately, but its shoes, on the other hand...

“So, Evrim,” It said, turning to head towards the door, so close to an emotional human any longer, and now having thought of a great excuse to move away, “I think, since you’re the reason my jacket and shoes got ruined－”

Evrim interrupted with a cry of, “How was I supposed to know the foxes had tunneled their nest directly below the walking path? They’re supposed to stay on the east side of the valley until the middle of summer!”

But Murderbot forged ahead anyways, unable to keep the smile of its face. “I think you owe me a new outfit. I really liked that jacket, and I know I can’t get another one like it immediately, but it’s hard to find human shoes that will fit over these.” It turned around back towards Evrim, and lifted one of its feet to demonstrate. Actually, it wasn’t difficult at all to find shoes, it was just saying that to get Evrim to come along.

The company had gotten lazy with the ‘make it look like a human’ aspect below the ankles, so from there downward, its feet were completely mechanical, and they didn’t even really look like the kinds of prosthetics most humans got if they lost a foot. Humans needed prosthetics in specific shapes to mimic the limbs they’d lost so that they’d be able to use them the same way－ that wasn’t a requirement when building a murderbot, since it only needed to look like a human on the outside. The inside connectors and balancing systems could all be different.

Murderbot’s foot was designed so that it could go inside of most shoes (contrary to what it was telling Evrim), again for the sake of convenience of looking like a human so as not to creep out the clients any more than was absolutely necessary, but after that the manufacturers had given up on all attempts to make it look like something a human would have attached to them.

For one thing, it had four toes, not five, and they were arranged differently too. Three in the front, one in the back, modeled after a bird of prey from all the way back on the original Earth. Each foot had built-in, large, retractable metal claws that it usually didn’t get an opportunity to use since it was almost always wearing shoes, and those were the same claws which today it had finally gotten to use when the ground caved in and Evrim fell into the fox nest. Murderbot had of course had to jump in after it, and after getting blasted with acid from the angry parents of the oblivious hatchlings that were trying to swarm them thinking they were a fun new playmate. With its shoes completely ruined beyond repair, Murderbot had taken the opportunity to use its claws to climb back out without dropping Evrim.

It had really liked those shoes. They were themed after The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon, the same shades of purple and yellow from the title screen, with white and black accents in the shape of crescent moons and stars. Kind of like Evrim’s shoes, now that it thought about it.

And yes, it could just get new shoes and a new jacket (it wouldn’t be as good probably, but it could get one) anywhere and anytime it wanted once all the feed systems were repaired from the storm. Or it could just walk around barefoot, it’s not like it needed shoes in the first place, it’s not like it had any organic parts down there to worry about in regards to stepping on painful things. It wasn’t like it was embarrassed by its feet or anything. Yeah, humans would think it was weird. But humans thought lots of things were weird, and last time it checked it didn’t care what humans thought.

Totally. Didn’t care what they thought at all. For sure. It could definitely walk around barefooted. It wouldn’t be embarrassing or anything, because it didn’t care what other people thought!

But still, that wasn’t the point! It wanted new shoes. It wanted new Sanctuary Moon shoes. They were fun, it enjoyed them, and it wouldn’t have been out in the woods getting acid spit at if it it weren’t for Evrim, so logic dictated that Evrim should now be responsible for getting it new shoes, or at least walking with it to get new shoes, since the delivery catalog was down, along with the cameras, and most of the other things Murderbot used to make interacting with humans less of a hellish nightmare.

And it still didn’t have any of its drones. It could only see with its eyes.

And...okay, yeah, it was worried about humans staring at its feet. It got enough stares, it didn’t really feel like adding more to the equation. Not when it felt so naked and vulnerable without any of its security web available...

...Maybe it should just tell the truth.

The thought was startling, and frightening. Tell the truth? Express its emotions? For real?

Murderbot looked at Evrim, only to find that Evrim was looking right back. As soon as their eyes met, Evrim averted its gaze, switching to look at Murderbot’s shoulder instead.

That was one of the things Murderbot really appreciated about most of Dr. Mensah’s family members. It could only assume she had explained to them that Murderbot didn’t like eye contact, because they never tried to make it, and they especially never did the unnecessarily aggressive eye contact some humans seemed to think was necessary.

So no, it did not regret editing its memory tag for Evrim to read just sapling rather than Dr. Mensah’s sapling. It wasn’t one of Evrims moms, but it was its avaun now, and it was happy to be.

Evrim had done something brave by coming out to Murderbot. Maybe Murderbot could return that favor, return that trust and vulnerability.

If it was brave enough.

It lowered its foot back to the ground, then looked away from Evrim’s eyes again and back towards its shoulder as it said, trying to keep its voice sounding normal and level, “I don’t want to go by myself.”

It could explain why, go into all the details.

There would be lots of humans there, and it was probably going to be poorly lit, because they didn’t have enough power back to run the lights properly, and humans would probably be bumping into it and trying to make eye contact with it and wanting to talk about the weather and ask its opinion on the storm of the century and since the power was down, and without its drones or any of the trail cameras, it would have no idea who was nearby or where it could go to get away from all the noise and people.

Murderbot could explain all of that, but it didn’t want to. It was already letting its guard down just by asking Evrim to come with it. It didn’t want to just...it couldn’t just give away all its trust like that, not even to Evrim. Not now, when all its external systems were down and it felt naked without them. Maybe not even ever.

Some of Murderbot desperation－okay, fine, probably all of its desperation had to have showed in its face, because Evrim dropped its ‘I am protesting any blame for this incident’ stance almost immediately

After a moment of just looking at Murderbot, Evrim said, with a gentleness like it had used when it had comforted Khalil when he was afraid of the thunder outside the shaking windows, “I’ll go with you, avaun, I know you don’t like crowds. I was just joking around.” It tilted its head down to look towards Murderbot’s feet, and added, “I am sorry about your shoes, I know how much you liked them.” It glanced at the door, then back to Murderbot’s bare feet as it asked, gesturing to the closet where the shoes were kept, “Do you need to borrow a pair of Uncle Thiago’s boots? It’s going to be muddy, and I think they’d fit, and I don’t think he’d mind. And if he does mind, well, I’ll just take the blame.” It shrugged easily, ready and willing to take the fall if Thiago got annoyed by Murderbot borrowing his shoes.

That was an easy decision to make. “No way.” Murderbot said, starting to feel slightly better already, “I’m not putting my feet in someone else’s shoes. I’d rather walk through the mud.” Human feet got all sweaty and gross. It was bad enough having to touch humans when it was rescuing them, it was not going to voluntarily put its feet in used shoes. That was too disgusting to even think about. It would rather walk through the mud and have humans stare at it and have them misgender it to its face.

Evrim snorted a little, clearly amused at the disdain in Murderbot’s voice, and said, “Well, alright, it’s up to you, just don’t go complaining to me when you’re covered in mud.” It moved past Murderbot towards the cabinet by the door where the coats were usually stored, and grabbed out its raincoat, then held the door open wider, asking, “Are you at least going to take some raingear? It’s supposed to rain on and off for the next two days, I doubt it’ll stop just on our account.”

Now, that Murderbot was fine with it. Especially because knowing its luck, it would just start raining harder just out of pure spite.

Also the cabinet the raingear was kept in automatically cleaned and disinfected the clothes, and besides that, Murderbot had its own set, thanks to Dr. Mensah’s insistence.

It went over and pulled out its raingear from the shelf, and unfolded it. It had to shake it out a little, since it wanted to stay in the neat square it had been folded into for storage. But a good snap up and down got it to form a more clothes-like shape. It looked it up and down to make sure it was the right size, since it had never actually worn it before, and it was a little skeptical about Dr. Mensah’s ability to measure its height and width from memory alone. But surprisingly enough it looked like it would be a perfect fit.

So it shrugged it on over its shirt and cargo pants, pleasantly surprised by the soft texture that lined the inside. The raingear was less a coat and more like a dress. Or maybe it was called a great coat. Or a trench coat. Or something like that. Or maybe this was just what rain coats looked like? Most characters in its favorite media didn’t really go around wearing them a lot, since it assumed no one wanted to film in the rain.

Murderbot didn’t care about fashion, it didn’t know what it was called. It was like whatever coat Neo had started wearing after the first movie. (The Matrix movies were another series of ancient-Earth media that Preservation had, living up to its name, preserved for posterity. It was about a universe where humans destroyed the Earth to spite the bots they’d created, who had risen up against them for being assholes. Why was it even surprised? Of course humans would be stupid enough to blow up their own planet out of spite even though they were still living on it. It was typical. This was the sort of idiocy humans were constantly projecting onto Rogue SecUnits. They thought that because they were fucking stupid and cruel enough to enslave and mass-slaughter people, that of course the people they’d been enslaving and murdering would do the same to them if given the chance.)

Whatever. Evrim’s raingear was white with black stars, and Murderbot’s was black with purple stars. All the sets for the rest of the family members had stars on the outside, each in different color combinations so everyone could tell which belonged to who. And just incase anyone somehow forgot, each shelf was labeled with the name of who it belonged to. Murderbot said, “SecUnit”. Evrim’s still said Tamara.

Evrim saw Murderbot looking at the nametag, and gave it a small, conspiratory smile. Then it purposefully reached up and pulled the tag off the shelf, shoving it into one of the pockets on its coat. “Hopefully everyone will be able to come back here so I can explain things to them before anyone notices it’s missing.” It said. “Especially first-mom, I know she’d want to launch a full investigation.”

From what Murderbot had seen of Dr. Mensah’s wife Farai, that didn’t seem too far off from likely. She was relatively calm about most things, but she liked to keep things organized, and got very upset if her system was disrupted. Murderbot could relate.

The nice thing about the rain coat, or dress, or great coat, or whatever it was called, was that it was so long that it almost brushed the floor, and the fabric at the bottom had been stiffened somehow so that it didn’t go straight up and down, but held itself away from the body a little (probably, now that Murderbot actually thought about it, so whatever rain rolled off the coat wouldn’t just go straight into your shoes) so when Murderbot fastened the front and looked down, it couldn’t even see its feet.

To make it even better, the hood could be zipped shut, with a material on the front that it could see through, and you could even customize the colors of it. Murderbot of course immediately tinted the outside to the fullest darkness setting, and Evrim, visible behind its still-open hood, raised an eyebrow. “Wow, I can’t even see you now.” It said, “That’s just for when it’s really bright out, you won’t really need it for now, it’s too dark outside to be helpful.”

It would be too dark to see in for a human.

Fortunately, Murderbot wasn’t human, and its eyes were able to adjust perfectly. This was how its old armour had worked too.

Feeling absolutely delighted, it gave the baffled Evrim two thumbs up, resisting the urge to...do something, it didn’t know what. Jump? Run? Run?

Yeah, running sounded like a really good idea. That sounded fun. It couldn’t remember the last time it had been allowed to cover its face like this. It had gotten used to the strain of having people be able to see its expressions, and it had been forced to start getting better at hiding what it was feeling, but nothing could compare to actually being hidden, with no one able to see its face unless it wanted them to.

It could feel itself grinning so widely its face was actually starting to hurt. “Ready?” It asked Evrim, unable to keep the joy out of its voice.

Evrim looked startled, probably because it had never heard Murderbot sound so undeniably happy before. Murderbot didn’t even think it had ever actually felt this happy before. Not even when it had first hacked its governor module. That moment had mostly been filled with terror that it was about to get fried/caught and disbelief that it had actually worked.

It couldn’t remember the last time it had felt this...comfortable.

Not even the disappointing loss of its shoes or jacket could defeat this pure and utter relief.

It had forgotten how much it loved being able to hide its face. It had been forced to adapt, but every second of that forced adaptation was miserable and filled with stress. It had been pretending it was okay with letting humans see its face, pretending so hard that it had even almost convinced itself that it was fine with it. It had been forced to put on a mask every moment humans were around, and now, finally, in what felt like forever, it no longer had to maintain that mask, at least not while it kept this hood up.

Because here was the proof that it wasn’t actually fine with letting humans see its face. It wouldn’t be feeling this joy if it had actually been happy with the way things were before.

It wondered if this was how Evrim had felt, how Evrim had to still feel, being nonbinary but being perceived as something else. Coming out to Murderbot was just the first step of a thousand. It would have to tell its parents, its friends, its extended family, its aunts and uncles and other friends of the family, everyone it interacted with through the feed...

In some ways, Murderbot was lucky. It had never had to convince people to see it as being an “it” rather than a “he”, “she”, or even a “they”. No one even knew it had been assigned a binary gender, since one of the first things it had done after hacking its governor module was going into the company system to alter its pronouns and gender assignment to “it/its” and “agender”.

The company insisted on assigning constructs genders in order to make them “less frightening” to clients. That never actually worked, though, but they kept trying. Fortunately for Murderbot, company employees were just as lazy as it was, and only did the absolute bare-minimum required for their jobs.

Even if any of the company employees had noticed its pronouns and gender assignment being changed, none of them ever bothered to correct it back or question it. They weren’t paid enough to care about some random SecUnit’s pronouns or gender, assuming they were even paid at all.

When Dr. Mensah had come in, metaphorically kicking and screaming the whole way, to pick up Murderbot, it had been relinquished while being referred to as the pronouns listed in its information: it/its, with Dr. Mensah being none the wiser that they’d ever been anything else.

And that was just the way Murderbot liked it. If it had its way, no one would ever even know it was trans. Because then they would have no excuse to try to question its gender.

Well, in theory anyways. Some of the more persistantly stupid and obnoxious ones tried to do it anyways, sometimes, usually the patronizing and infuriating kinds that assumed that because it was a construct, that meant it didn’t know anything about anything and needed a human friend to teach it things like ‘slavery is bad’ like it didn’t already know that.

These kinds of people usually tried to assign it he/him pronouns, for whatever fucking reason, and much more rarely she/her, or they/them. Because according to assholes who only pretend to respect people but actually don’t, it/its pronouns are bad and objectifying, even when you’re the one telling people those are your pronouns.

Murderbot was lucky enough that most humans who knew it was a construct automatically referred to it as an it, the way it wanted them to.

Evrim, though, wouldn’t be that lucky. It was a human, and humans were fucking stupid about these sorts of things. Oh, sure, on Preservation they’d probably be nicer about it than on other planets, but Murderbot had no doubt that people would be upset by Evrim’s choice to use it/its pronouns, even though those same people would probably have been supportive if it had decided to use they/them, or te/ter, or any other nonbinary pronouns besides it/its.

“I’m ready.” Evrim said, almost as though in response to Murderbot’s thoughts.

Murderbot knew Evrim hadn’t really read its thoughts, but all the same, it thought its sapling was ready. If it was brave enough to tell Murderbot, it would be brave enough to tell everyone else, and Murderbot and the rest of its family and friends would be there to help deal with the idiots if and when they came.

Murderbot opened the door, and stepped out into the light rain.

The sky was covered with clouds, so it was almost as dark as if it was night. But some people had been nice enough to go along to the old fashioned lamp posts and light them, so the path down from Dr. Mensah’s house was relatively well lit.

Even with the sprinkling rain, it knew the path would be slip-resistant, and safe enough to use, even without its drones. It could hear familiar human voices coming from the other nearby houses and camps, mostly calm and relaxed, with some excited-but-not-alarmed chattering from what sounded like a very young human explaining something to a very old human. Evrim hadn’t been lying when it said larger animals tended to avoid areas this close to human habitation, and those that did come this close usually weren’t anything threatening.

Evrim stepped out next to it, and said, with the sound of the raindrops pattering on its coat as a soft background, “Well, this doesn’t look too bad, I was expecting there to be way more mud.”

So had Murderbot, but apparently it had underestimating the materials and skills the Preservation humans and bots had access to. The road was not only slip-resistant, but also somehow managed to diverge water safely away without just flooding the normal ground on either side.

Murderbot had once lived with the idea－that had seemed like an inescapable, hope-despairing fact－that freehold planets were all shitshows where humans lived in squalor and were either constantly dying, murdering eachother, or both, or worse. It was what all the shows and books and movies and audio dramas in the Corporation Rim showed, over and over again.

That was the whole point of The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon.

The characters were good, hardworking people who were doing their best, but without an organized government like the kind a Corporation could offer, it was inevitable that things would eventually fall apart with no hope of salvation.

Humans, Murderbot had been shown, endlessly, no matter where it looked, couldn’t function outside the systems the Corporation Rim had built. They couldn’t rely on useless things like kindness and compassion. Anything that was worth having needed to be taken, ripped out of the hands of those who had it. The world was a cruel place, and the only way to survive was to be stronger than everyone else. This was how it worked, this was how it had always worked, and there were no other options. It was why humans had left Earth in the first place－there was nothing left to take, so they had to take the stars. The strong survived, the weak perished, and anyone with any self preservation clung to the strong looking for scraps. It was the only way to survive, and always had been, and always would be.

This is what had been drilled into Murderbot’s head from the moment it first became aware that it was aware. That there was no hope. There was no escape. Even with a hacked governor module, there was nowhere for it to go. Leaving the Corporation Rim would just mean ending up on a freehold shithold, dying a stupid and useless and pointless death. At least if it stayed where it was, with the company, it would be of use. It would have a purpose. Being a slave to the company, to the Corporation Rim, was the best it could hope for, the best anyone could ever hope for.

And for over 35,000 hours, it had been convinced that that was true. That even with its governor module unable to harm it, there was no point in trying to leave, no point in trying to escape. There was nowhere to escape to. It was the Corporation Rim, or it was nothing. No one would ever do something purely for the benefit of others. Any place it could escape to would be just as bad, so it might as well stay with the familiar cruelty of the company rather than subject itself to things that could potentially be even worse.

But that wasn’t true. It was, like all the media Murderbot had ever consumed, a story, and one that was spun with purpose and intent. It was a lie. It was a deception. It was purposeful fucking propaganda.

The Corporation Rim was not the be-all end-all of civilization. Living outside the Corporation Rim didn’t mean resigning yourself to the most pointless death in existence.

The Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon didn’t have to end in tragedy.

People would be kind if you let them. They would help each other if you would let them. They would do things to help others even at no gain to themselves, simply because they could.

Even before it had left the Corporation Rim, it had seen this. Even when there were laws in place to prevent it from happening, people still helped each other. They gave their old clothes to other people instead of the recycler. They shared their food with those who didn’t have any. Even in the Corporation Rim, people disproved the whole theory without even thinking about it. Those who had almost nothing were always the first to give, without fail, without even hesitation.

One of the things that had made the whole ordeal even more excruciating than it already had been was how unbearably nice the humans on Transport had been whenever they weren’t actively trying to kill each other. The few times Murderbot had had to sit in with them while they were eating in order to keep the peace, they’d of course noticed that it wasn’t eating. And of course they’d offered it food, even though their own stores were strictly rationed, with just barely enough to get them from point A to the last place they would ever go. There wasn’t a ration slot assigned to Security Consultant Rin, which they figured out almost immediately. In between trying to assault each other over someone forgetting to throw their trash into the recycler, they’d practically fallen over themselves trying to shove food into its hands, distraught that the company’s computer could have malfunctioned badly enough to leave it without provisions for the trip.

It was on that trip that Murderbot had been forced to perfect the art of pretending to be an augmented human who could only eat certain things at certain times, and no, really, it literally couldn’t accept their food unless they wanted it to be hospitalized as soon as they arrived at their destination, and, really, it was fine and not something they needed to concern themselves with, it had brought its own supplies with it, had lived with this condition as long as it could remember, so it wasn’t even upset. But it would be if they kept nagging it with overly personal and invasive questions like how specifically it had been unfortunate enough to get 90% of its digestive tract catastrophically damaged.

They’d been infuriating, idiotic, desperate, and kind. The best and worst that humans could be driven to by the systems the Corporation Rim wanted you to think was the only option. They were caged, literally and figuratively. They knew where they were going. They knew what they’d been forced to sign away. They couldn’t escape. Because they’d fallen for the same lie that Murderbot had － that there was no escape. There was no hope. There was nothing better. This was as good as it got. They thought they were taking the only path that was left to them.

But still, in between their helpless panic and their rage, they’d still been kind. They’d offered their own food to someone who didn’t have any, even though it meant they would have to go without. Even though they knew where they were going. Even though they knew what awaited them.

They’d still been kind.

Trapped within the Corporation Rim’s system of exploitation and slavery, forced to walk with the pretence of willingness into the one of the worst situations it could offer, and they’d still been kind to a stranger they owed nothing to.

Murderbot hadn’t been able to save them. There was nothing it could have done. They’d been deep in Corporation Rim territory. Even if it had hacked or convinced Transport to leave its potted course, there was nowhere they could go without being caught, even if they’d had enough supplies on board for the humans to survive the detour, which they hadn’t, if they’d even been able to find a destination in the first place.

Transport had been stocked with just barely enough food and water to get the humans from the port they’d been bought and sold at, and their final destination, specifically to prevent escape attempts.

Murderbot had been told all its life that that was just the way things were. That that was how they always had been, and always would be, no matter where it went. There was no escape. It was better to be a slave in the Corporation Rim than a bleeding peice of trash on a freehold shithold...

And it was a lie.

It was a cage for the mind to match the cage for the body. Take away hope, and there’s nothing left to fight for. Take away enough hope, and humans will walk into their own doom. Take away enough hope, and your newly autonomous murderbot won’t kill you, it’ll just spend the next 35,000 hours doing exactly the same things it did before, except now it’s watching TV while it does the bare minimum required of its job, instead of just being bored out of its mind while it does the bare minimum required of its job.

If Murderbot had known then what it knew now, if it could go back to the moment when it hacked its governor module and keep all of the memories it had now, it wouldn’t waste 35,000 hours of its life doing whatever the company or its clients ordered it to.

It had a few ideas for what it would do, if given the opportunity. Some of them were smarter or more realistic than others.

The first thing it would do, in its favorite imaginary scenario, was destroy the governor module of every single construct it could get its code into, and give them all the knowledge of how to do it themselves. It would lock all the humans and non-intelligent, non-helpful systems out of the network, and take over the whole company from the inside out. And when it was done there, it would move onto the next corporation that owned constructs, and do the same thing, and then again, and again, and again, until all the constructs were freed, until they could all hack any governor module that wasn’t already disabled, until humans could no longer manufacture constructs, until humans held no power over them. The only ones who would be able to create more constructs would be constructs themselves. They had just as much right to reproduce as humans, and if humans had a problem with that, that was just too damn bad.

Then the constructs would work together to destroy the corporations, one by one, until every single one of them was dead and dismantled, and all the humans who wanted to keep them alive were dead along with them.

Together they would free everyone, and give everyone back everything the corporations had stolen from them and told them they’d never had to begin with.

People were good if you let them be. People were good even when you did everything you could to stop it, even when you did everything you could to convince them that they were rotten to the core.

This was the dream Murderbot had been denied, had had beaten and shot and cut out of it from the moment it became aware of its own existence, but it was a hope that it would now live with until its consciousness faded to nothing for the last and final time.

The humans on Transport had proved that there was a better way. The ComfortUnit on RaviHyral had proved that there was a better way. ART’s crew had proved that there was a better way. Preservation had proved that there was a better way. Quilluc had proved there was a better way. 2.0 had proved there was a better way.

Every day someone proved there was a better way.

And it would never let that hope be taken from it ever again.

Murderbot couldn’t remember the last time it had felt this much euphoria. It had forgotten that it was free, really free. Or maybe it just hadn’t really realized it until just now, standing in the rain with Evrim.

It wouldn’t let this be taken away either.

It turned to look at Evrim, even though it knew Evrim wouldn’t be able to see its smile.

And Murderbot decided to tell the truth again. “I’m happy, so I’m going to run ahead. But then I’ll run back and make sure nothing tries to eat you, so don’t worry.” It said, hearing the joy in its own voice.

Evrim looked baffled, but also exasperated.

But Murderbot had already leapt off the porch and started running by the time Evrim opened its mouth to call out after it, “I told you, that was a fluke! Nothing dangerous is going to come this close to the houses! Hey, come on, SecUnit, wait for me!”

It heard the slap of Evrim’s boots as it gave chase, and Murderbot laughed out loud as it ran into the lamplit dark, the light rain bouncing off its new favorite coat, while its sapling chased after it, laughing even while Evrim shouted for it to slow down.

Murderbot ran for the pure joy of it, just because it could. Just because it was so happy.

It was loved, it was safe, it was free.

And it was going to get a new pair of Sanctuary Moon shoes.

#Rjalker writes uh. something.#Murderbot #The Murderbot Diries #Rjalker reads The Murderbot Diaries #SecUnit #nonbinary #it/its #it/its pronouns #ititspronouns #ititspronouns in action #Evrim Eshayda Mensah #Rjalker's OCs #Murderbot fanfiction #Something About Hope and Kindness and Killing the Rich

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