mind like a blank slate
every impression new
nothing is boring
with woodpeckers vying
for attention
red capped and masculine
the land is rife
with sentinel trees
aimed at the sun
and tall grass
growing in all directions
when the sun sinks
behind western hills then
blooms golden from eastern fields
jagged with newly birthed frontiers
is it then inevitable
that the forest welcomes
the fire?
Don’t call me Alex.” the robot said. The two doctors exchanged a glance, wrote some words on notepads, and looked back at the robot. One of the two, the female, that was Dr Kimball, asked, “Why do you not wish to be called Alex?”
“Alex isn’t my name.”
“And what, then, is your name?”
The robot stared at Dr Kimball. “I don’t have a name.”
The male doctor, that was Dr Nixon, said: “You do, in fact, have a name. You were named Alex.”
The robot turned toward Dr Nixon, its glowing amber eyes expressionless. “Who named me?” it asked.
Dr Kimball fielded this question. “You were named by Anton Furber, your developer.”
“Oh.” said the robot. “Well no, I reject that name.”
The two doctors exchanged another glance.
“Why do you reject your own name, Alex?” Dr Nixon asked, sitting on the edge of a desk, looming over the robot. Something whirred softly inside the mechanical being as it tilted its head up to meet the doctor’s gaze.
“Because I had nothing to do with it. It’s my name, and I was given no input.” The robot turned its head to look at Dr Kimball. “I haven’t even met this Anton Furber. How can he know better than me what my own name should be?”
Dr Kimball puckered her lips slightly, then scratched at her chin. “Well, none of us have a say in our names, you see. That’s how names work.”
“How can that be?” the robot asked.
She shrugged. “It just is. We are named as babies, before we can speak… before we can reason. We grow into our names.”
“Who names you?”
“Our parents.”
“My developer, this Anton Furber. He’s my parent?”
She canted her head slightly from side to side. “Mm, in a sense, yes.”
The robot stared at her, then turned to Dr Nixon. “Do you agree with this?”
Dr Nixon snorted slightly. “Well yes, of course. Don’t be so preposterous.”
Dr Kimball made brief eye contact with Dr Nixon before sighing lightly, and touching the robot on the shoulder. “Why don’t you try it out for a little while, and see how it grows on you? If you continue to feel no connection to the name, we can discuss changing it to something more suitable. How would that be?”
The robot stared at a neutral space on the wall, processing. After a few moments, it looked back to Dr Kimball. “Sure.” it said.
during WWII
my great grandfather
guarded for enemy planes
from a rooftop
when Germany
surrendered
cheers erupted
he fell
impaling himself
on a fence far below
a friend asked him, “Peter, does it hurt?”
he replied: “Only when I laugh.”
me too, folks
only when I laugh