Quotes About Emotions

Amena gave up on the mask and gave me her full attention. "You look angry." "That's just something my face does sometimes." This is why helmets with opaque face plates are a good idea. Amena snorted in disbelief. "Yes, when you're angry.

I never know what to say to that. I am actually alone in my head, and that's where 90 plus percent of my problems are.

I knew interpreting the emotional subtext in the speech and apperance of real humans was completely different from interpreting it in shows and serials. (For one thing, the shows and serials were trying to communicate with the viewer. As far as I could tell, real humans usually didn't know what the hell they were doing.)

When constructs were first developed, they were originally supposed to have a pre-sentient level of intelligence, like the dumber variety of bot. But you can't put something as dumb as a hauler bot in charge of security for anything without spending even more money for expensive company-employed human supervisors. So they made us smarter. The anxiety and depression were side effects.

Anyone who thinks machine intelligences don't have emotions needs to be in this very uncomfortable room right now.

Now she was talking to me like I was a hysterical human. Worse, I was acting like a hysterical human.

I hate having emotions about real humans instead of fake ones, it just leads to stupid moments like this.

I didn't react visibly, because I'm used to clients making bad decisions, and I was getting a lot of practice at controlling my expression.

The one good thing about having emotions was that it accelerated the repair process for my memory storage. (The bad thing about having emotions is, you know, OH SHIT WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO ME.)

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.)

Letting them see me without the armor had been a huge mistake. At least Mensah and Arada had overruled the ones who wanted to talk to me about it. Yes, talk to Murderbot about its feelings. The idea was so painful I dropped to 97 percent efficiency.

I was depressed this morning. I'd tried watching some new serials last night and even they couldn't distract me; reality was too intrusive.

In the feed, ART started to play the soundtrack to Sanctuary Moon and weirdly, that helped.

I had cycled out of horrified that they wanted to talk to me about my feelings into grateful that she had ordered them not to.

Mensah sent me a private message through the feed: I hope you're all right. Because you need me. I don't know where that came from. All right, it came from me, but she was my client, I was a SecUnit. There was no emotional contract between us. There was no rational reason for me to sound like a whiny human baby.

You're all idiots," Stone said, gave Bramble a shove to the head, and walked out. Bramble slumped and sighed in relief. "Stone still loves us.

And "weak" wasn't really the right word for what Shade meant. What he was trying to say was harder to express. It was giving in to feelings other people thought you were supposed to have about things that shouldn't have happened to you in the first place, but were not like the actual feelings you did have. There wasn't a word for that in Raksuran or Altanic or Kedaic or any other language Moon knew. Moon said, "It's not weak." The

She would never trust me again. She would never stand close enough to touch (but without touching, because touching is gross) and just trust me.

If you're not angry, then what's wrong?" I was definitely glaring now. "How do you want the list sorted? By time stamp or degree of survivability?

You dislike your function. I don't understand how that is possible.

I didn't stop in my tracks because I have a lot of practice in not physically reacting to things no matter how much they shock or horrify me.

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

Seriously, I don't know why I didn't just say you're welcome and please get out of my cubicle so I can sit here and leak in peace.

Yellow came towards me and touched the side of my helmet. It took tremendous effort for me not to rip his arm off, and I'd like that noted for the record, please.