The murder is in the air. Everywhere I look, I see images of a robot killing machine. Then I remind myself where I really am: in the conference room of a library on a college campus in East Texas. The air is a little musty with the smell of old books, and a middle-aged woman with wavy gray-brown hair tilts her head as she steps up to the podium. She may seem like a kind librarian or a cat lady (confirmed), but her mind is a spacious galaxy of spaceships, flying bipeds, and ancient witches. This is Martha Wells, creator of Murderbot.
Upon hearing a name like that, you would be forgiven for running for your life. But the thing about Murderbot, what makes him one of the most beloved and iconic characters in modern science fiction, is simply that: he is not what he seems. Despite his enormity and power-armed body armor, Murderbot is a softie. He is socially awkward and appreciates sarcasm. Not only does he hate murder, but he wants to save human lives, and often does (at least when he’s not watching his favorite TV shows). “As a heartless killing machine,” as Murderbot says, “I was a terrible failure.”
The character made his debut in Wells’ 2017 novella, All red systems. Yes, a novella: it wasn’t exactly a popular form at the time, but it flew off the shelves, surprising even Wells’s editor. Before long, more short stories and novellas appeared, and then a couple of full-length novels. Wells took home all the important awards of the genre: four Hugos, two Nebulas and six Locuses. When she and I started talking last spring, Apple TV+ had started filming a television adaptation starring Alexander Skarsgård.
At conventions and book signings around the world, Wells draws legions of fans, but here in Texas there are only about 30 people huddled in the warm, wood-paneled library, which today is packed with Murderbot art and paraphernalia. Wells begins by reading a short storytold from the perspective of a scientist who helps Murderbot gain his freedom. After the reading, a woman in the audience tells Wells how impressed she is by the subtlety of the social and political issues in the Murderbot stories. “Was that intentional?” the woman asks. Martha responds politely, stating yes, before saying, “I don’t think it’s particularly subtle.” It’s a slave narrative, he says. What’s annoying is when people don’t see that.
What’s also annoying is when people who just discovered Murderbot wonder if he can write something else. Wells, who is 60 years old, has averaged almost a book a year for more than three decades, ranging from palace intrigues to excursions to distant worlds populated by shapeshifters. But until Murderbot, Wells tended to fly under the radar. I suspect one reason for this is location. Far from the usual literary enclaves of New York or Los Angeles, Wells has lived all this time in College Station, which is where the nearly 100-year-old library we stand in today resides. Located on the campus of Texas A&M, his alma mater, the library contains one of the largest collections of science fiction and fantasy in the world.
From this cradle emerged Wells’s career. But after Murderbot, things have changed. Wells now counts literary superstars like NK Jemisin and Kate Elliott among her friends, not to mention her fiercely loyal fandom. And it turns out she would need all of that—the support, the community, even Murderbot—when, at the pinnacle of her newfound fame in her life, it all threatened to come to an end.