"She could, theoretically, change something within the databases.
"Prometheus just didn’t expect her to actually try and do that."
In which Atropos says trans rights and hacks the database so it has her right name and pronouns.
Prometheus was made to study and assist humans. He knew this well, but the humans in his assigned dome were still somewhat of a mystery to him. Atropos was made to study and assist the other models of robots. She knew this well, and she understood the other models far better than anyone else, and better than Prometheus understood humans.
Atropos, therefore, had a strong understanding of coding. Though it differed in early robot models, the base coding was shared among all the robots made after 1970 and the databases. She could, theoretically, change something within the databases.
Prometheus just didn’t expect her to actually try and do that.
“P-Pardon?!” Prometheus said. “You wish to do what?!”
“Change my name in the database!” Atropos, though not at the time known as such in the database, reiterated.
“But Atropos, you could get caught! What will you do if that happens? And what will Mother think?”
“Not many people can get to the databases anyway, Prometheus,” Atropos assured him, waving a hand. “And besides, what Mother doesn’t know was reprogrammed in the database won’t hurt her.”
She strode over to the door of the break room, looked back over at Prometheus and said, “Come on! Let’s go to the database!”
Prometheus stared at her for a second before asking, “...Together?”
“Of course!” Atropos replied. “I like being with you. And as the humans say, safety in numbers.”
Prometheus hesitantly stood up and went over to Atropos. Atropos walked out the door, Prometheus following her. The database wasn’t too far away from the break room - it was just a two minute walk there. Prometheus knew this, though he couldn’t help glancing around to make sure no one was eyeing them.
Atropos keyed in the password, and the door opened before them. She confidently went up to the terminals, and Prometheus stared in awe at the screens before him.
“So… how does this all work?” he asked, looking at Atropos.
“I need to open up the data containing the records of every R-Y model there is. Then, I’ll have to search for my serial number, open up my records, and change my name and pronouns there,” Atropos explained. “In summary. It’s a lot more complicated than I phrased it.”
Prometheus looked back up at the screens, littered with different folders of information. He could tell.
Yet, Atropos made her way through the hundreds of folders with ease. Her arrival to the R-Y records was made with little trial and error. A whole list of names stretched down beyond the screen.
“Let’s see… these are the R-10Ys… R-20Ys… R-30Ys… R-40Ys… Ah! There I am. R-56Y.”
Hearing Atropos say her serial number aloud was sort of odd. The last time Prometheus had heard it was when she introduced herself to him. And that was just over 20 years ago.
Atropos had brought up her records in the database. The sight was underwhelming. He had expected at least one picture somewhere. But no, there was just black text on white. Atropos pressed some keys, which caused the screen to bring up another window. She then began to type into the new window. Prometheus didn’t understand what was going on here at all, but soon enough, Atropos’ eyes glowed brighter. The window had closed, and some of the data in Atropos’ records had changed.
“Done!” she cheered. “Now it’s official - I’m Atropos!”
“You are!” It sounded silly, Prometheus thought, to say such an obvious thing, but Atropos didn’t seem to mind.
“Our break is ending soon, we should head back.” As Atropos walked out of the database, she told Prometheus, “I was thinking about getting something to make myself look more feminine. What about a bow? You said some female humans wore those, right?”