Naming

To my extreme horror, I found the photocopier in the Ops Room... dead.

"Who did this? Who?" I could hardly keep the hysteria from my voice as I gently knelt down and cradled the now silent machine. She was cold, the warmth she usually harboured now gone. It must have been what? Two hours since?

"Why did no one tell me! Why?" The tears formed, and I didn't even bother to turn away from the crowd gathering around. Through my misty gaze she looked fragile, brittle, weak. Hardly even a shadow of her normal robust self.

"Sir... she broke down an hour ago. Her toner just gave way. There was nothing we could do."

A fountain of anger welled up, its overflowing waters refusing to be dammed.

"The only reason why she's like this is because no one cares! Everyone treats her like... like she's some prostitute! Nobody bothers to treat her delicately or take care of her!"

Once the outburst sapped the last vestiges of spirit, I felt my strength flee me, and I would have crumbled if someone didn't grab me in time. There was a short moment of silence as everyone struggled for something to say to remedy the situation, but sometimes even well-intended words are inadequate.

I sighed, and slowly regained my footing. "I don't want to ever see her die like this again. Hear me?" An immediate chorus of nods. "When she comes back, if she comes back, she will have a name. That way, I believe we can start treating her properly, with respect and kindness, just as she deserves." Again, the hastened assent of all.

And that's how the photocopying machine (which has been serving us diligently and without a whisper of complaint) in the Ops Room came to be known as Lucy. =)