2026 SF. Forty years ago the world fell apart. Our narrator, who
remembers it, just wants to be left alone to study ants. But someone
has stolen its leg…
There is a plot, but it takes a while to become apparent. What
happens first is much more picaresque; we see various parts of the
world and the forms that human and mech life have taken since the
collapse. We also gradually learn more of the history of that
collapse, and here this is clearly a modern book: rather than the one
cause being the triffids or the robots or the commies, something you
could put a single scary name to and warn everyone about, it was more
of a general collapse of everything at once, compounded by a lack of
overlap between those who wanted to fix anything and those who
controlled the resources.
In this respect of touring the world, and in the found-family that the
narrator gradually accrues, I was reminded of 2024's Mal Goes To
War; but this works rather better, not least because before she wrote
the Finder series Palmer's short fiction very often dealt with small
and not terribly sophisticated robots, who are here in profusion.
There is fine robot snark, and practical discussion from people who
don't think or talk quite the way humans would.
"We're veering right back into the squick," Atticus warns us.
"Yes," I say. "I should like to now change the subject but do not
have one prepared for the substitution."
"This unit would like to contribute a line of discussion," Charp
says.
"Please do," I reply, perhaps more quickly than usual.
And of course the sides will sort themselves out once it becomes clear
what and indeed how many those sides are: not human versus mech as
some would like to simplify it, but between those who wish others well
and those who have other priorities. Why does the train have a fan on
top?
"That is Spinner. It is an early-gen smart fan and of very limited
cognition. Its sole function is to spin and thus move air, but its
motor burnt out and was not reparable. It does not understand when I
am in motion, but the air passing through it makes its blades spin,
and then it is fulfilled in its purpose."
"How fast do you go?" Murphy asks.
"Not fast at all but fast enough that Spinner believes itself to be
a superhero," 22-Banjo says. "Please do not tell it otherwise."
In spite of the form of the title, this is not "more like Becky
Chambers". There are overlaps of theme and philosophy, certainly, but
Palmer retains her own voice, which is one I've always enjoyed
reading. Highly recommended.