WHAT'S IN A NAME? by Gwendolyn S. Patton“I tell you, they've all gone insane!” shouted Eileen Silverberg, the chief handler on duty. “Iwas just tending to the afternoon schedule, and suddenly, they just charged at me, brandishing all sortsof...of...odd implements!”“There, there, Eileen,” soothed Manfred Asimov, the facility supervisor. There's nothing to getall worked up about. You know that they are a frightfully energetic lot. They can get charged up by theslightest little thing, and then we have to extricate them from every rafter and joist in the entire place.”He shook his perfectly-coiffed head sadly. “I don't know where they get these ideas, personally.”“I think they're just damaged,” Eileen sobbed, her lavender hair shaking around her shoulders ina perfect splay of color.Manfred stared at her in shock, and shook a finger at her. “Never say that, girl! They are in our charge, and we have taken every possible care that they should never, ever, ever take any sort of damage.”Eileen sniffled. “I know, Sir, and it's hard to even imagine them being in any waydamaged...but you didn't see them today! Their little faces...” She put her own face in her hands andshook. Manfred put an arm around her shoulders and tut-tutted consolingly.“Now, now, Eileen...it's not that bad, really. Archie is in with them right now, and he wouldhave reported any sort of damage, you know that!”She brightened a little. “Y..yes. Archie is good with them. He knows how to make them better when they're...upset.”Manfred chucked her under her flawless chin. “That's my girl. Now, off with you! Can't haveyou blubbering about and upsetting everyone!”“Thank you, Dr. Manfred. I feel better now.”“What I'm here for, dear.”Manfred Asimov walked the hallways of the West Highlands Refugee Facility, checking oneach of the departments under his responsibility, making certain nothing was out of place. He made anotation that there had been another increase in the number of refugees from other cities in the past fewmonths, poor, pitiful people who could barely speak and who seemed afraid of everything. Theyneeded a great deal of care before they could even feed themselves, but he and his staff were attentive beyond words.“Manfred! Ah, there you are, my good boy!” A voice called out to him from the direction of his office. “Please step back here. I would like to speak with you for a moment, if it is convenient.”Manfred dutifully changed his course and trotted back to his office, smoothing his soft, black hair behind his ears and straightening his jacket. A human sat at his desk, one he new well. “Welcome,Administrator Walker. I am pleased to see you today. How may I be of service?”“Just wanted to pop in and see how things were carrying on, Manfred. Are the refus nice andhealthy? Any problems?”Manfred reached over and tapped some keys on his desk, upside down, of course, and brought1

up the current statistics on the ward charges. “This month we've had a bit of an upswing in admissions,Administrator. It would seem that things are not getting much better out in the rest of the world. It ismost distressing.”Walker peered at the floating report, stabbed a meaty finger at it a few times, paging through it, but he didn't really seem to be reading it in any detail. Presently, he waved it away negligently. “Oh,it's quite a mess out there, Manfred. We're not exactly sure what all is happening, but cities just seemto be dropping out of touch, one by one. The Central Authority is just quarantining them as they gosilent. As you say, distressing. But, what can we do about it?” He stretched lazily. “We take in their refugees, we take care of them. They don't tell us much. Sometimes, all they do is sit and scream.Damn noisy things.” He stood, brushed off the seat of his trousers. “Dust in here, will you please,Manfred? It's positively filthy.”“Absolutely, Sir. I cannot abide dust.” Manfred reached into a cabinet and pulled out a steri-cloth, and started towards the chair.Walker shoved him back impatiently. “Not

now

, you idiot! Do it later, after I leave!”Manfred put the steri-cloth on the desk. “Of course, Sir. How else can I serve you today?”“I hear there was a disturbance in the ward today,” he said. His face was ugly.“It was a minor thing, Sir. The charges were frightened. They do sometimes get frightened bystrange sounds, a shadow...and, to be frank, we're not always certain why they get afraid.”“The handler, Eileen...what's her name?”“Eileen Silverberg. She is a very good servitor.”“According to the report, she became incoherent, and left the charges alone, some of themarmed!”Manfred made a placating gesture. “Not so, Sir! Eileen merely left the ward to summonadditional servitor assistance, since she was concerned that the makeshift items held by the chargesmight accidentally cause injury within their own number. It was prudent of her to temporarily retreat inorder to summon additional help.”Walker's face became suffused with anger. “Are you contradicting me, boy? It says in thereport that she was frightened by the little beasts, and ran out of the ward shrieking!” He pounded a fiston the desk. “Dammit, I should have her brain scrubbed and her programming replaced with somethat'll show a little more moxie!”Manfred would have paled if he could. “Oh, Sir! There's no need for such a thing. I assureyou, the report is but a sterile document. While accurate as to the facts, it does not carry the experienceof the incident. I'm certain that if you had been present, not only would you agree that she did not behave in such a beastly manner, but your own wisdom would have ended the matter in much shorter order.”Walker sat on the edge of the desk. “Well, of course, if I had been here, there would have beenno need for any shrieking,” he said. The man positively preened.“Of course, Sir. Most wise.”Walker rose suddenly, and made for the door. Manfred had to scurry to get out of his way.“That'll be all, Manfred. I'm heading over to South Micah Subdivision to check on some fool bookkeeping snarl. If you need me for anything, you call, you understand me?”Manfred helped straighten the man's jacket, brushed him off gently. “Of course, Dr. Walker. Atonce.”Dr. Walker swept out of the room, and clattered down the hall. Manfred started to sit in hischair, feeling a certain numbness in his circuitry. Then, as if an afterthought, he straightened, picked upthe steri-cloth, and polished the chair from top to bottom...2

Eileen Silverberg puttered around the lab, looking for a few simple tools. She withdrew a small blue box from a cabinet and set it on the counter, removed a few small devices. Then she touched theseam-stud at the top of her smock, releasing it. The smock fell open to the waist, and she peeled it off with a shrug. Beneath it, her clearly and well-proportioned feminine form was covered with a one- piece body covering that left the arms bare. There were several large, ugly bites, cuts, and gougesmarring her pale, soft arms. Of course, there was no blood, or leakage of any fluid.She scrutinized each wound in turn, gently removing any foreign matter with a tiny pair of forceps. A bottle of mild solvent washed away any remaining particles, then evaporated, leaving noresidue. Then she picked up the last two tools, a jar of thick, goopy material and a small handhelddevice that looked like a laser-iron. She steeled herself, and gently packed one of the gouges with thesubstance, being careful to spread it evenly. She waited a few moments for it to set, then applied theiron.The goop hissed and sizzled, but eventually settled down and evened out. The iron had a softfoil end that matched the texture of her dermis. When she lifted the iron, the repair was nearlyinvisible. A few touchups with another tiny tool, and there was no sign of the gouge.She sighed. She really cared about her charges. They didn't

mean

to do such things. They had been hurt, terribly, and were just oh, so frightened. She wished she could make all of their hurts goaway. It was what she was made to do.She smoothed more goop into a deep cut in her forearm and applied the iron. It crackled andsnapped.Eileen moaned softly and held the iron against her arm.Archibald Asimov loved his charges. He puttered among them, stroking them, soothing them,checking all of them minutely for any injuries or damage, and gently but firmly removing the spoonsand forks they had sequestered with which to terrorize poor Eileen. “Now, now, these are for eatingyour meals, not scaring poor little girls,” he chided. The poor helpless ones shrank back from him atfirst, but eventually relaxed and let themselves be soothed. He found a couple of small scrapes on one,which he knew would have sent Eileen into an outright tizzy, and spent a few moments carefullyrepairing the fragile tissue. After a short time, he had the entire ward peacefully napping.Except for the new one. He was over in a corner, huddled in a ball, his eyes narrow anduntrusting. The new boy watched Archie make his rounds, and instead of getting calmer, he grew moreand more tense, angrier. He held something in the pit of his stomach, where it was screened by his body and his arms.Archie consulted his charts for the new boy. He had been found three days ago, wandering outin the wilderness, skirting the edges of the city. It was clear from examining his ragged clothing, andthe remains of food packets and other debris in his makeshift gear, that he had been scavenging inhomes and business units along the outskirts, perhaps for a long time. He was malnourished, scabbedwith multiple small scrapes and wounds, both new and old, and infested with several parasites when hewas found and succored.He had been carefully cleaned, the parasites removed, the wounds healed, and his nourishmentlevel restored. His skin glowed with vibrant health, and his hair was starting to recover some shine.Even the new finger-and-toenail growth, though small in such a short time, was healthy and strong,instead of ridged and uneven. But his emotional state was not improving. He was morose when hewas quiet, sullen to the point of obstinacy, and prone to fits of violent rage if prodded. He had to beconstantly watched, for he would attack the other charges if they pressed themselves upon him, butmostly he left them alone.But he would attack a servitor with fierce glee if permitted. Archie held a private suspicion that3