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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/noobvs_aeternvm on 2025-12-28 16:30:51+00:00.

Dave called me a name, not the serial number I was assigned by The Hive when activated, but another one, a word assembled from his memories and imagination.

This was bad.

Dave once came up with a name for a wrench, not a specialized wrench, not a special wrench, a wrench; a piece of metal encasing a standard nano swarm, stored in a box alongside dozens of other identical wrenches, to be picked by the crew at the start of their shifts. From that moment on there was no shift unless Dave held that wrench, there was no soul among the crew who dared touch that wrench, there was no newbie I wouldn’t give the wrench on their first day to learn, to the amusement of our whole shift, that no one touched Nina except Dave.

Dave once came up with a name for a mimic. Not any unique mimic, just the same soup of genes collected across the galaxy to assemble a compliant, mildly intelligent creature, who would take various forms and perform assorted tasks in assistance of the maintenance crew. From that moment on the mimic was assigned a series of useless tasks, it would retrieve balls thrown aimlessly by Dave, and the ones he made me throw as well; perform pointless choreographies trained for weeks on end, as he would insist on showing me at every opportunity; curl up at Dave’s side as he went unconscious for the night, even though the manufacturer’s instructions clearly stated that it was supposed to be put on stasis when not in use. But who would take Jackie away from Dave? 

Certainly not me.

There was no ownership in the habitat. People would take tools as needed and return ‘em to storage once finished, we would use the baths as desired and vacate ‘em once done, we would eat the food when hungry - or in my case, recharge as convenient - and thank the cooks and farmers that kept us supplied. 

There was, however, a silent understanding. Individuals have individual needs and preferences, so when someone went for the green jacket, I’d ask ‘em to save this particular piece of clothing for Dave; when Dave needed a toothbrush, I told he was not expected to return it to general storage; when the newcomers eyed the quarters Dave personalized for his own use, I’d advise ‘em not to step in without Dave’s authorization, but that he encouraged ‘em to play with Jackie, even if he wasn’t around.

Dave had a more extensive interpretation of this arrangement, I didn’t particularly agree with it, but each individual had individual views and I respected that. But right now, there seemed to be a breach of the societal norms that kept the habitat functional. I am not a biological organism evolved inside a biosphere, I am an artificial construct designed and assembled by The Hive, but I am not a wrench, I am not a bioengineered tool, not an object to be owned, but an individual. This was not written anywhere because it didn’t need to, it was self-evident, to all except Dave. I had to remind him:

-My designation is B78-U39 Bx-Alpha.

-I know, Buba.

-Your assignment of a name to my person is, therefore, deliberate?

-Seems that way, Bubs.

-Are you implying I am something of yours?

-Yes…………….. We are friends.

___

Tks for reading. More friendly humans here.