If there was one thing that could be said about the Earth, it was always in motion. But not only the planet was in motion, its occupants were as well.
He'd been here for three years now, looking for the Allspark or any clues leading to its location. But while he was on this planet tracking the Witwicky-family and their intertwining fate with the Allspark, he had time to observe this planet's dominant species.
The first thing he observed, was that they never. Held. Still.
Maybe it was the rhythm of their beating heart, but they always moved. When they sat down in front of their primitive external input terminals (computers, they called them), they were wriggling their fingers, thumping their feet or swiveling in their chairs. In rare occasions he'd seen humans keep still, particularly when they were engrossed by something.
It was bordering on frightening for the relatively slow Cybertronian. Sure, he could be lightning-fast when needed, but he did not possess that urge to move like the humans did. He could hold still for days if necessary, bundled up in his alt-form. Some animals possessed that ability as well, such as spiders or a praying mantis. Though they struck out to catch prey, whereas he didn't need any biological sustenance.
He amused himself by imagining various Autobots and their insect counterparts. The irony of his chose human name was not lost on him, for he'd chosen to name himself after a small flying insect.
Those insects never stayed put either, always buzzing around. Perhaps not the best choice, seeing their behavior, but 'Mantis' wasn't a very good name for him either. All the Cybertronians'd have to be named Mantis if you named them after insects.
It was three years later that he was beginning to understand this need to move. After the events of Mission City the mech asked to be guardian of the tiny human that had somehow beaten the Decepticon lord. By observing and working with this human, he got the feeling he was so much more… alive. He didn't like to dwell on it, but the organics had such short life spans. Maybe this made them feel the urge to make the most of every day, because you never knew if you might breathe tomorrow.
Cybertronians had the luxury of laying still, their hard bodies would protect them from a lot of dangers. That, and billions of years to hone the art of waiting to perfection.
The human dragged the mech to all kinds of alien places, in rare occasions did he stay at home. And even then, the boy moved about the house, doing chores for his parental units or finishing his assigned mental tasks (homework, the humans called it).
And all this moving about somehow pleased the mech. At first, it was too overwhelming, but after a human life span of living with this exodusing organic he felt he could never be the same again. He would hold on to this aspect of this personality (and perhaps this new flighty name as well) for the duration of his life span.
Every time the boy drummed his fingers against the table, it meant this planet was alive. It was in motion.