Rogue Protocol Quotes

There needs to be an error code that means “I received your request but decided to ignore you.

I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can't just stop.

Who knew being a heartless killing machine would present so many moral dilemmas. (Yes, that was sarcasm.)

They were all annoying and deeply inadequate humans, but I didn’t want to kill them. Okay, maybe a little.

If you had to take care of humans, it was better to take care of small soft ones who were nice to you and thought you were great because you kept preventing them from being murdered.

Right, so the only smart way out of this was to kill all of them. I was going to have to take the dumb way out of this.

Or Miki was a bot who had never been abused or lied to or treated with anything but indulgent kindness. It really thought its humans were its friends, because that’s how they treated it. I signaled Miki I would be withdrawing for one minute. I needed to have an emotion in private.

I was tired of pretending to be human. I needed a break.

Why yes, I did want to disengage the safety protocols, thanks for asking.

Pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy.

Somewhere there had to be a happy medium between being treated as a terrifying murder machine and being infantilized.

Miki said, “That’s not good.” See, that? That is just annoying. That contributed nothing to the conversation and was just a pointless vocalization to make the humans comfortable.

I was getting an idea. It was probably a bad idea. (When most of your training in tactical thinking comes from adventure shows, that does tend to happen.)

I looked down. I was dripping onto the floor, a mix of blood and fluid. I hate it when I leak.

That’s the other problem with human security: they’re allowed to give up.

Nobody grabs SecUnits. I hadn’t realized this was a perk until now.

Frankly, I didn’t know what station security was going to do about it, either. In fact, I’m sure station security was now shitting itself almost as hard as I metaphorically was.

Fucking up a planet, even part of a planet, for no reason was kind of a big deal, and I was surprised they had gotten away with it. Okay, no, I wasn’t surprised.

there’s the right kind of unrealistic and the wrong kind of unrealistic.

I needed to have an emotion in private.

Then there was Asshole Research Transport. ART’s official designation was deep space research vessel. At various points in our relationship, ART had threatened to kill me, watched my favorite shows with me, given me a body configuration change, provided excellent tactical support, talked me into pretending to be an augmented human security consultant, saved my clients’ lives, and had cleaned up after me when I had to murder some humans. (They were bad humans.)

humans are so fucking unreliable when it comes to maintaining data.

Miki, damage report.” “I am at eighty-six percent functional capacity.” It held up its arm stump. “It’s only a flesh wound.

The reason why they were trying to kill, maim, etc., each other wasn’t the SecUnit’s problem, it was for the humans’ supervisor to deal with. (Or to willfully ignore until the whole project devolved into a giant clusterfuck and your SecUnit prayed for the sweet relief of a massive accidental explosive decompression, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.)

I didn’t want to see helpless humans. I’d rather see smart ones rescuing each other.

Maybe it was something subliminal. Actually, it felt pretty liminal. Pro-liminal. Up-liminal?

I tuned down my pain sensors and the impact sites faded from explosions down to embers. (I know that’s actually not a permanent solution and pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy in the long run, but there was nothing I could do about it now.)

It was a security consultant’s job to be skeptical of their clients’ assurances that everything was fine. (SecUnit clients, at least, only assured each other that everything was fine while you stared at the wall and waited for everything to go horribly wrong.)

I stared straight ahead. If there was one thing good about this situation, it was reinforcing how great my decisions to (a) hack my governor module and (b) escape were. Being a SecUnit sucked. I couldn’t wait to get back to my wild rogue rampage of hitching rides on bot-piloted transports and watching my serials.

Again, I know in the telling it sounds like I was on top of this situation but really, I was still just thinking, Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

I had to run back the drone’s camera feed to catch up, I had been so busy conquering that burst of non-annoyance.

Miki said, It’s okay, Rin. Don Abene is always cautious. I’d seen lots of dead cautious humans, but I wasn’t going to say that to Miki.

As a SecUnit, a large part of my function was helping the company record everything my clients did and said so the company could data mine it and sell anything worthwhile. (They say good security comes at a price and the company takes that literally.)

I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can’t just stop.

Human security had literally just noticed that something had tried to steal their client’s head.

You should never refer to the clients as targets; you don’t want to get confused at the wrong moment.

Who knew being a heartless killing machine would present so many moral dilemmas.

In the bot-fighting business, small mistakes like that get you torn apart.

That’s how SecUnits are taught to fight: throw your body at the target and kill the shit out of it,

I do make mistakes (I keep a running tally in a special file) and it looked like I had made a big one.

I had stopped watching it when the mutants dragged off the group’s biologist to eat him. Seriously, this was exactly the kind of situation I was designed to prevent.

A normal SecUnit (you know, one that still had its governor module, less anxious than me but probably more depressed

The core cutter had powered up and accessed my feed to deliver a canned warning and a handy set of directions. Why yes, I did want to disengage the safety protocols, thanks for asking.

(Note to self: look up definition of metaphor.)

(Somewhere there had to be a happy medium between being treated as a terrifying murder machine and being infantilized.)

I felt a little guilty, sort of, almost.

I hate hostage situations. Even when I’m the one with the hostages.

The company had never given us armor that nice, though in its defense, our armor did get blasted off us at regular intervals.

Maybe the schedules hadn’t been updated; humans are so fucking unreliable when it comes to maintaining data.

Humans always think they've covered their tracks and deleted their data, but they're wrong a lot.

I followed her, like a good little SecUnit/killing machine.

I couldn’t hack a combat bot without making a direct physical connection, and trying for that would result in me being torn apart. (I’ve been torn apart before, and on my list of things to avoid, it was right up there at the top.)

When I’d called it a pet robot, I honestly thought I was exaggerating. This was going to be even more annoying than I had anticipated, and I had anticipated a pretty high level of annoyance, maybe as high as 85 percent. Now I was looking at 90 percent, possibly 95 percent.

ART had threatened to kill me, watched my favorite shows with me, given me a body configuration change, provided excellent tactical support, talked me into pretending to be an augmented human security consultant, saved my clients’ lives, and had cleaned up after me when I had to murder some humans. (They were bad humans.) I really missed ART.

I had sent the lift to the bio pod, the nearest junction to the team’s position. The door slid open and I stepped into a wall of sound: screaming, energy weapon fire. I ran down the corridor and rounded the corner. I’m going to describe this as I reconstructed it from my and Miki’s camera feeds later, since at the time even I was mostly thinking, Oh shit oh shit.

I couldn’t pin down what was bothering me. Scan was negative, and this far away from the team there was no ambient sound except the whisper through the air system. Maybe it was the lack of security camera access, but I’d been in worse places with no cameras. Maybe it was something subliminal. Actually, it felt pretty liminal. Pro-liminal. Up-liminal? Whatever, there was no knowledge base here to look it up.

(There needs to be an error code that means “I received your request but decided to ignore you.”) Initially, it had been pretty easy. (“If you bother her again I will break every individual bone in your hand and arm. It will take about an hour.”) Then it had gotten more complicated as even the passengers who liked each other started to get into fights. I spent a lot of time (valuable time I could have been viewing/reading my saved entertainment media) arbitrating arguments I didn’t give a shit about.

If you bother her again I will break every individual bone in your hand and arm. It will take about an hour

Now that I knew where we were going, it was a lot easier to get there

I flailed mentally.

(There needs to be an error code that means “I received your request but decided to ignore you.”)

(That’s how SecUnits are taught to fight: throw your body at the target and kill the shit out of it, and hope they can fix you in a repair cubicle.

(Rule Number One: do not touch Security Consultant Rin.)

I said, "I don't--" and stopped there because I didn't have any way to finish that sentence. I needed help, I didn't want anyone to touch me. These were two mutually exclusive states.

I hate caring about stuff. But apparently once you start, you can't stop.

(I’ve been torn apart before, and on my list of things to avoid, it was right up there at the top.)

But I was tired of pretending to be human. I needed a break.

I was having an emotion again. An angry one.

Humans always think they’ve covered their tracks and deleted their data, but they’re wrong a lot.

It’s only a flesh wound.

Chi avrebbe mai detto che essere un’efferata macchina assassina avrebbe comportato tutti quei dilemmi morali? (Sì, era proprio sarcasmo.)

I felt a little guilty, sort of, almost. Something was wrong, and I hoped it wasn’t about me.

Huh. That wasn’t a lie, but it sure wasn’t the truth, either. Maybe Miki had hidden depths.

Miki said, “That’s not good.” See, that? That is just annoying. That contributed nothing to the conversation and was just a pointless vocalization to make the humans comfortable.

Ou alors Miki le bot de compagnie n’avait jamais été brimé, dupé ou maltraité ; peut-être ne lui avait-on jamais témoigné que de la bonté et de l’indulgence. Il considérait vraiment ses humains comme des amis, car c’est ainsi qu’ils le traitaient en retour. J’ai signalé à Miki que je me déconnectais une minute. J’avais besoin d’avoir une émotion en privé.

va savoir ce qu'il se passe dans la tête d'un bot", a répondu Wilken avec un regard en coin dans ma direction. J'ai gardé les yeux rivés devant moi.

it was for the humans’ supervisor to deal with. (Or to willfully ignore until the whole project devolved into a giant clusterfuck and your SecUnit prayed for the sweet relief of a massive accidental explosive decompression, not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.)

Then there was Asshole Research Transport. ART’s official designation was deep space research vessel. At various points in our relationship, ART had threatened to kill me, watched my favorite shows with me, given me a body configuration change, provided excellent tactical support, talked me into pretending to be an augmented human security consultant, saved my clients’ lives, and had cleaned up after me when I had to murder some humans. (They were bad humans.) I really missed ART.

(You should never refer to the clients as targets; you don’t want to get confused at the wrong moment.) (That’s a joke.)

I am at eighty-six percent functional capacity.” It held up its arm stump. “It’s only a flesh wound.

(I know that’s actually not a permanent solution and pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy in the long run, but there was nothing I could do about it now.)

I signaled Miki I would be withdrawing for one minute. I needed to have an emotion in private.

This was going to be even more annoying than I had anticipated, and I had anticipated a pretty high level of annoyance, maybe as high as 85 percent. Now I was looking at 90 percent, possibly 95 percent.

Priority is to protect my friends.

It’s normal to feel conflict. You were part of something for a long time. You hate it, and it was a terrible thing. But it created you, and you were part of it.

Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person and if I’m not careful I could be a thing again.)

I’d seen lots of dead cautious humans, but I wasn’t going to say that to Miki.

I needed help. I was rattled, I was still leaking a little, and I hadn’t been able to watch any media in what felt like forever.

The only good thing about combat bots is that they aren’t combat SecUnits. Those are worse.

I admit, I did watch a little more of the episode I had paused while this was going on. (It was only six minutes, but it was a boring six minutes, okay?

Consultant Rin, I thought you said you didn’t want to come back up here—

only assured each other that everything was fine while you stared at the wall and waited for everything to go horribly wrong.)

If you bother her again I will break every individual bone in your hand and arm. It will take about an hour.”)

Che avrei dovuto fare? Ammazzare tutti gli umani perché quelli che erano a capo della sezione costrutti della compa- gnia erano dei senza cuore? Certo, le persone immaginarie del canale d’intrattenimento mi piacevano molto di più di quelle reali, ma non si poteva avere le une senza le altre.

...they still had to tell me about what had caused the latest fight. (I don't remember what it was, I deleted it from my memory as soon as I could get out of the room.)

know that’s actually not a permanent solution and pretending bad things aren’t happening is not a great survival strategy in the long run,

Don Abene’s warm brown skin was lined at the corners of her mouth and eyes, and her long dark hair had strands of white in it, but for all I knew it was a cosmetic choice. She laughed and her dark eyes crinkled. “We’re finally going, Miki!

They had passed a lift junction, but it wasn’t big enough for all of them at once and Wilken sensibly refused to split the group.

The only way out of this was to kill them.

Les clients de SecUnit, en tout cas, se rassurent les uns les autres pendant que leur androïde, le regard rivé au mur, attend que tout vire au cauchemar.