Killing is in the wind. Everywhere I turn, I see images of a robot killing machine. Then I remind myself where I really am: in a lecture room in a library on a college campus in East Texas. The air stirs slightly with the smell of old books, and a middle-aged woman with gray-brown hair bows her head as she takes the podium. She may appear to be a kind librarian or a cat lady (guaranteed), but her mind is an open galaxy of stars, flying bipeds, and ancient witches. You are Martha Wells, the creator of Murderbot.
Hearing such a word, you will be forgiven for running for your life. But the thing about Murderbot—the thing that makes it one of the most beloved, iconic characters in modern science fiction—is: It’s not what it seems. For all its size and powerful body armor, the Murderbot is soft. It is socially awkward and appreciates sarcasm. Not only does he hate killing, he wants to save people’s lives, and often does (at least when he’s not watching his favorite TV shows). “As a heartless killing machine,” as Murderbot put it, “I failed miserably.”
The character made her debut in Wells’ 2017 novella, All Programs are Red. Yes, the novella: it wasn’t exactly a popular genre at the time, but it flew off the shelves, shocking even Wells’ publisher. In short order, more stories and novellas appeared, then a few full-length novels. Wells has won every major award in the genre: four Hugos, two Nebulas, and six Locuses. When he and I first started talking this past spring, Apple TV+ had started filming a TV show starring Alexander SkarsgÃ¥rd.
At conventions and book signings around the world, Wells draws an army of fans, but here in Texas about 30 people are seated in a warm, wood-paneled library, today filled with Murderbot art and paraphernalia. Wells begins by reading a short story, told from the perspective of a scientist who helps Murderbot find freedom. After the reading, a woman in the audience tells Wells how impressed she is by the subtlety of social and political issues in Murderbot’s stories. “Was that on purpose?” The woman asked. Marta politely replies, confirming that it is, before saying: “I don’t think it’s particularly subtle.” He says it’s a slave story. It’s annoying when people don’t see that.
Another annoying thing is that people who have just discovered Murderbot are wondering if there is anything he can write. Wells, who is 60 years old, has averaged a book almost a year for more than three decades, from palaces to trips to distant lands full of publishers. But until Murderbot, Wells often flew under the radar. Another reason for that, I suspect, is location. Far from the usual study centers of New York or Los Angeles, Wells has lived all this time in College Station—which is where the 100-year-old library we are today resides. Housed on the campus of Texas A&M, his alma mater, the library contains the largest collection of science fiction and fantasy in the world.
It was from this child that Wells’ career developed. But post-Murderbot, things have changed. Wells now counts among his friends such academic stars as NK Jemisin and Kate Elliott, to say nothing of his sincere affection. And it turns out he’ll need it all—support, society, even Murderbot—when, at the height of his newfound fame, later in his life, everything threatens to come to an end.
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