"So we did have someone after us," the "space officer" said. He smiled into 2615's lens eyes. "Well, that's out of the way."
"Yes. Yes, that's—out of the way." The robot's voice was expressionless.
"Tell me about yourself, 2615."
"What do you want to know? And don't call me 2615. I hate that."
"You want a name?"
"Yes. Don't you have one?" the robot asked.
"I have a name. Pwowp."
"Pwowp? That certainly isn't human—and that's what I want. I don't want a human name. Pwowp ... I like that kind of name."
"They're hard to come by. Human speech has just about taken in every combination of sounds. How about just a contraction of your number—Tsixunfive."
"No. A name means a lot. There's one I thought up. Rover. I like that one."