Pilot stared at the ceiling, itching to get up and move. He'd been asleep for a while; he could feel it. His muscles begged him to sit up and stretch, but he denied himself. He couldn't; he hadn't been told to. 

Goode came over to him and spoke, asking him his name; or [i]names[/i]. He had many, most of them he didn't remember. Any name that had clung to him from his former life had been long lost, along with most of his other memories. He answered promptly.
"Pilot," He said. "Or experiment number 237, the first of the canines. I have no other names." He felt a bit anxious; what if he missed one? What if he'd been given one recently and didn't know it? His eyes remained concentrated on the ceiling, blank.