"No, no! Those aren't names," Mericlou said as she fumbled to gently cover the android's mouth. Already some of the other commuters had begun to stare their way. She laughed, in spite of herself. "I guess I should pick one out for you, then."
"Name … for me?" the android replied weakly.
"Yes," Mericlou said, "and this can be your name forever."
There was a long pause, and the android's expression remained as blank as unused paper. At last, she whispered, "Yes … name."
"How about 'Alaema'?" Mericlou said after a bit of thought. "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"
"Alaema … my name?"
"Yes, sister. That will be your name. It's an old Dwarvish word. It means foundling."
"Alaema … foundling," the android repeated, her voice breaking into a slight quaver. And then tears erupted from her expressionless face. They came out profusely, mixed with blood from her ruptured tear ducts. They stained her face, leaving even more crimson streaks upon her pale synthetic flesh.
Mericlou quickly removed a handkerchief from her purse, and wiped the bloodied tears away. "There, there; don't cry, sister," she said consolingly, and placed her clean hand atop her thick crown of raven-black hair. "You've got a home now, and no one will misuse you again. I promise."
"Mer-i-clou …" Alaema said, and then unexpectedly, reached over to embrace her. "Alaema … sister."