Fiction Reviews
Service Model
(2024) Adrian Tchaikovsky, Tor, £22, hrdbk, 376pp, ISBN 978-1-035-04566-2
Using a robot or android as the ‘outsider’, commenting on human folly, is a well-known device within SF and prominent examples include Star Trek’s Data and the SecUnit from Martha Well’s Murderbot Diaries. Here Tchaikovsky offers a variant in the form of ‘Charles’, a sophisticated service model programmed to act as valet to the ‘Master’ of an isolated private estate. Each morning Charles dutifully runs through his assigned tasks, laying out a set of travelling clothes, even though the Master never travels anywhere and enquiring of the House majordomo system as to the special requirements of the lady of the house, even though there is no lady of the house and hasn’t been for seventeen years and twelve days. And so, the story begins with the basic set-up of the machinic equivalent to an ideal (to some, perhaps) British butler, who performs his duties impeccably and to the algorithmic letter, even when those duties are redundant or make no sense.
But then, something goes terribly awry. After shaving the Master and commencing to clean the interior of one of the cars that rarely leave the garage, Charles notices a stain on the upholstery. Furthermore, the stain appears to have come from his own mechanical fingers. It is not hard to guess what has happened and no spoiler alert needed to reveal that Charles has, inexplicably, or so it would seem, slit his Master’s throat.
There then follows a series of scenes that could have come from any number of cosy crime dramas (think Midsomer Murders) as Inspector Birdbot, Sergeant Lune and Doctor Namehere all arrive in quick succession. After some farcical to-ing and fro-ing, the initial decision that a murder has been committed is quickly modified to that of an industrial accident. As a result, Charles is ordered to proceed, first, to Diagnostics and then to Decommissioning. Both are located beyond the manor, at Central Services, and so the (now) Undesignated Valet Unit formerly known as Charles, sets off to find answers and, it/he anticipates, some form of closure.
Along the way The Wonk appears, initially taken to be a defective robot and who is convinced that UnCharles, as our hero is now called, is infected with the Protagonist Virus. This not only explains the aberrant behaviour but is also the basis for The Wonk’s fond hope that a robot civilisation may finally be emerging from the ashes of humanity’s. For it swiftly becomes clear that all is by no means right with the world and the rest of the book basically consists of this odd couple staggering together through the ruins, meeting both other robots and humans, leaving each other, finding one another again and finally meeting God (sort of). This, the bulk of the tale, reminded me strongly of Stanislaw Lem’s stories in The Cyberiad (1965), not least in its exploration of the limitations of algorithmicity and the juggling of assorted paradoxes, including, predictably perhaps, the infamous Liar. However, Tchaikovsky’s novel is very much ‘au courant’ in its explanation of the downfall of humanity, although the salutary flavour is leavened somewhat by the sweetness of the relationship between Uncharles and The Wonk.
Having said all that, I wasn’t as taken with this book as I had anticipated. The beginning is rather ponderous and not quite as amusing as it evidently aims to be. And of course, the author has to loosen the algorithmic reins by degrees, lest Charles/Uncharles fall at an early hurdle. That bending of the rules governing it’s/his behaviour, however carefully moderated, not only saves the relationship with The Wonk but also stops him/it from becoming increasingly tiresome as things progress. Still, I have to admit, by the end I was glad to see our robotic friend clank off into the sunset.
Steven French
See also Jonathan's take on Service Model and Mark's review of Service Model.
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