Chapter 5: Numbers and Names

PR0.W13.R was beginning to understand what J422 had meant when he had said mechs had names and drones had numbers.

He saw the way mechs with numbers – his Enforcers – were often treated with disdain, treated like the non-sentient drones that cleaned the streets and performed other menial tasks.

And it... it hurt. Or was starting to hurt, as he began to realize the differences that were imposed on his Enforcers, his family, by the society they were placed in.

They were no different. J422... Jazz... he sang, like any other mech. He smiled, he laughed, he cried, he hurt... Yet, most treated him like an object.

Or B4RR1, one of the oldest Enforcers at the station, who had retreated so far into himself, away from the segregation, that he was almost as cold and drone-like as everyone thought him to be. But occasionally, PR0.W13.R caught him smiling, or staring off into the distance... He was just as alive as any of them.

Then there was himself; he answered a lot of the comms to the station, and, for the most part, people just assumed he was an AI. It was beginning to... to hurt. That they thought so little of him.

That brought him to the Chief. PR0.W13.R could see now that he was no different. The mech steadfastly continued calling the Enforcers by their numbers, no matter how many times they insisted that they had names.

Even he could see that there was something wrong with the way things were set up, and he had only been alive for a groon.

Well, there was something he could do about it. He could use their names, and forget they ever had numbers.

It might take some getting used to, but he could do it.

He could also adopt his own name. But how to start? He didn't know the first thing about naming someone.

A thought-thread gave him an answer a moment later, and, swiftly, he opened a comm line.

::Jazz?:: he pinged.

::Finally dropped the "Enforcer"?:: was the response.

That was... slightly painful, actually. That it had taken him this long to realize that the titles weren't always necessary. ::I... I believe I understand, now,:: he said, knowing Jazz would understand what he meant.

::Cool. You chosen a name, yet?::

::I was hoping you would be able to help me with that.::

The camera trained on the Enforcer picked up his movements as he chuckled. ::Sure, mech. I'd love to help. Lessee... PR0.W13.R... Pr... Prowler? The glyphs are similarly shaped, like with my name.::

A thrill of amusement ran through the osa. ::You are suggesting that I take a name that signifies a thief that sneaks into others dwellings? However, you do have a point... Is "Prowl" sufficient?::

Jazz grinned up at the camera. ::Sure, mech. But I think I'll keep calling you Prowler.::

That tangled up quite a few thought-threads for a moment. ::... Why?::

::Because that's what friends do. They call each other by nicknames.::

::Do they? Why? And how is that a nickname? It is longer than my chosen designation.:: Jazz was confounding in ways PR0.W- no, Prowl, had never encountered before in anyone else! Never mind the fact he was only a groon old.

The wide grin Jazz shot at the camera settled him somewhat; he may not understand, but he need only ask, and Jazz would explain. ::Because it's something private between us. Because it's got meaning. Because you'll know that whenever I call you by it that I care.::

::... I do not understand.::

::You don't need to, mech. Not yet. You'll learn. Trust me.::

And PR- Prowl knew, that, for now, trusting Jazz would be enough.