On the Subject of Names

I closed my eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. It was like cutting out part of your own arm or chopping off the toes on your left foot. Putting them down was supposed to be an easy job, but everyone knew that it wasn't. Not like having a pet: something that adores you unconditionally until you decide it's time for a bath. He'd been my best friend for years, working at my side, and now it was time to say good-bye.

"Is this going to hurt?" Sidney asked, looking up at me with eyes that betrayed no emotions because, in theory, he had none.

"No, Sid." I smiled, trying to be supportive. I'd been putting off his upgrade for weeks, but he and I both knew that the new programs included in the packet in my hand would help both him and me in the long run. "You've been through hardware and software upgrades before. You just don't remember."

Sidney nodded. His impassive face betraying more anxiety than he was supposed to feel. He wasn't supposed to feel anything. My best friend was a robot. How pathetic is that?


An hour later, I was sitting in the kitchen sipping tea with lemon and waiting for the empty shell I'd created in the living room to finish downloading the necessary drivers for his new hardware and programs. I'd asked the company to send a new faceplate for the mech, but they'd said it was backordered and did I want to wait? I'd declined the offer. Full upgrades like this one always erased old Egos and, much as I liked to have a new face to go with the new personality, it wasn't technically necessary. Just one of those human things.

"Good evening, Ma'am." A gentle, English voice said from behind me.

I let out the breath I'd been holding since I'd heard his metal feet tapping on the Italian tiles behind me.

"Good evening," I said, turning to the mech behind me. "What would you like me to call you?"

"My memory shows that you named your last assistant 'Sidney.' Would you like to call me that, Ma'am?"

I shook my head. "No, thank you. You may decide on a name for yourself over the coming of days. Until then, I will refer to you as Assistant."

Assistant nodded his understanding. "I will go complete my analysis of the data left from Sidney's upgrade, then, Ma'am."

I waved my hand, dismissing the mech, and turned back to my cup of tea. It was always like this when they upgraded. I couldn't really afford a new housing and there was no real reason to, except for the "new" mech to no longer look like my old assistant and good friend.


I woke early the next morning to smell bacon and eggs frying in the kitchen. I did my customary calisthenics for twenty minutes, then pulled on a housecoat and wandered into the kitchen where Assistant was making breakfast.

"My memory banks show that my last Ego, Sidney, and his predecessors were in the habit of making your morning meal, Ma'am."

I nodded. "That's right, Assistant. Thank you." I took the plate of bacon and eggs from his sliver-blue hands and sat down at the rough-hewn table that Leslie, a previous Ego of the mech, had made for me.

I ate the meal quietly, Assistant watching me as I chewed. A new Ego is almost always interested in humans and how we do things. There really is a limit to what a mech can import from previous data banks.

We headed into the workshop I have beside my house that afternoon. I wanted to see how Assistant would do with the work he was designed for. I knew that he would be technically proficient, but it takes a little while for them to get some sense of personality and that’s when the best work comes out.

“Assistant, I would like to watch you work for a little while first. Please finish the project over there that Sidney was in the middle of before you were reprogrammed.”

Assistant moved in his jerky, mechanical way to the corner of the room where a small, two-person rowboat was mostly completed. He studied the pieces and I could almost see him making lists of imperfections Sidney had left and what was still to be done on the craft.

I watched him work for almost two hours. Assistant was more than proficient in what I needed him to do. He’d obviously scanned all of the information on boat building left on his hard drive after I’d wiped Sidney of all personal information. I’d learned the hard way to remove any personal interactions I’d had with previous mech Egos. It’s just disconcerting to hear a near-stranger refer to a private conversation you’d had with his previous personality. Something about it just feels wrong and invasive.


Assistant went almost a month without a name; longer than any other mech Ego I’d had before. It was almost like he didn’t want to get too close to me. Maybe there was some new programming in his system that wasn’t advertised with the package RoboCorp had sent me.

“Would you like me to go prepare dinner, Ma’am?” He asked in the clipped, gentle British accent I’d chosen for him. “It’s been six hours since you ate and I know that with your metabolism you ought to be feeling hungry by now.”

I nodded, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Yes, Assistant. That would be very nice.” It was like talking to a complete stranger. A complete stranger that I’d spent the last month living with.

I sat down on the bench I’d just put into the new dinghy and leaned back against the side. I’d expected to find some kind of real personality in Assistant by now. Usually, it only took a week or two of living together to find some part of the new ‘person’ living with me that I could mesh with. But Assistant was very distant from me.

Leaning down, I grabbed a piece of sandpaper and worked on the ridges of the new craft for about twenty minutes. Eventually, I figured that it was smooth enough and stepped out of the little boat. I’d have just enough time to wash up before dinner.


I could hear what sounded like whistling coming from the kitchen. Quietly, I tip-toed to the door frame and leaned on it, watching Assistant put the finishing touches on my meal. I’d never really noticed how much more effort he went to with my food than the previous Egos. He had a way of knowing what it was I wanted most for lunch or dinner without my having to tell him.

“Tell me, Assistant,” I said as I walked into the room. “How is it that you are so caring about my food and my rest, but you always seem to be keeping a kind of distance from me?”

The shining body turned to look at me and I could swear he looked sad. “Ma’am will please pardon my distance. Mechs are not emotional by nature.”

“Like hell! If you’ll remember, Assistant, I’ve had seven different and unique mech Egos as my helpers and formed an emotional connection with each one of them!”

“Yes, Ma’am. I know.” There was a definite sad note to his smooth voice there.

“Then…?” I was confused. I’d expected him to disagree with me or argue back. “Why are you the way you are? Why aren’t we really friends yet?”

“Because one of my first duties toward you, Ma’am, is your wellbeing. This includes both your physical and your emotional wellbeing.”

I nodded.

“You become quite attached to your Assistants when they have names and personalities. My memory bank shows that you eventually treat them like people, like friends. In the end, when they need to be reprogrammed as every mech eventually does, it pains you to watch your friend leave and an unfamiliar Ego make a new home of their old body. I do not want you to grieve when I must inevitably go, Ma’am.”

I laughed.

“Why do you find that funny?”

“Because,” I said between fitful breathes. “you just outlined why a mech can never stay just a mech.” I tried to take a full breath, eased my laughter, and shook my head. “Asisstant, I've decided to call you Edmund, because it means protector. Is that okay?”

“But, Ma’am, if you give me a name, you will become emotionally attached to me and you will hurt when I eventually have to be reprogrammed.”

I nodded. “I know, Edmund, but in the meantime I will have a friend to spend my life with.”

Edmund tilted his head to the side. Sometimes there’s simply no talking to mechs. They’ll never really understand people, but goodness knows they always try!