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“A MIND is a sort of star-chart in reverse: an assembly of memory, conditioned response, and past action held together in a network of electricity and endocrine signaling, rendered down to a single moving point of consciousness”
― Arkady Martine, A Memory Called Empire

“I thought you hated them,â€� Nine Hibiscus said, dryly. “Was all of that complaining about ecosystem disruption for show, then?â€�
Twenty Cicada looked up at her, and dismissed most of his work holos with the hand that wasn’t petting the small void on his knee. “I do hate them,� he said, smiling. “But this one likes me, and what am I going to do with the things, space them? It’s not their fault they exist.�
She came to sit next to him, knee to knee. There always seemed to be more oxygen in one of Twenty Cicada’s garden rooms. (Not seemed: there was. Plant respiration. She’d checked the readouts once. It was a fractional difference, but real.) The Kauraanian pet lifted its head and opened yellow eyes. It made a noise like a badly tuned stringed instrument, stood, paced in a tight circle on Twenty Cicada’s lap, and settled down again. “I didn’t think you’d space them, Swarm,� she said. “But this is cuddling.�
“It yowls if I don’t,â€� Twenty Cicada said, perfectly bland, and Nine Hibiscus laughed.”
― Arkady Martine, A Desolation Called Peace