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Morty.
It sure is a name.
A name that comes from "Mortimer", and its meaning related to the dead sea. It evokes death every time the name is said. It reminds the owner of the name of a universal truth: everything comes to an end.
Or does it? In a curve of infinity, where there are endless versions of yourself and the people you know and love, there's no end to "your" life. Just an end to life as you "know" it. No two realities are completely alike. So, it becomes meaningless, this burden you carry. This name that is a harbinger of death has been reduced to a mere sidekick, a nuisance, the synonym to someone being stupid. And there are hundreds upon thousands of others just. like. you.
Or are there really? The others stutter, make bad decisions, worship a cocky alcoholic as some sort of god—when, at best, he's just a sad bastard. And at worst... Well. Many have met a Rick at his worst and did not live to tell the tale.
So what makes this "Morty" different? He looks and sounds just like the rest, but the way he talks, the way he carries himself, his scheming and thinking all differs greatly. He doesn't mean to look down on the others. Sure, the rest of the Citadel Mortys are pitiful, but they can easily gather under a common cause: "equality". Sure, an illusion of it, but it's a cause nonetheless. And that cause helped him topple the entire structure of interdimensional society upside-down. Sweet revenge.
But that wasn't enough, was it? No, it could never be enough to take the efforts of every other Rick in the universe and burn it to the ground. No way. He had to get away! Make sure no other Rick can look down on him, or spit out the name "Morty" in a display of disdain and spite. An insult, rather than a name.
Oh, but what's in a name?
As a traveler across the greater infinite universe, using aliases and many names seems to be quite beneficial. Laying low and keeping to oneself is often a very necessary survival tactic. Which means, leaving a paper trail with one single name would be suicide. So, many aliases are used. Playing around with names like trading cards, like different playable characters in each instance. "Evan" in this star system, and "Ever" in that asteroid tavern, and "Morty" in every other world where no one knows who Rick Sanchez even is.
But with this, comes a desire to be known. What a terrifying ordeal it is, to be known. To have someone that can see you, the real you, and through you, when pretending to be something you're not. How awful. But how interesting...
In a hasty decision, he finds himself skipping across the cosmos with a single portal, arriving at a bedroom that looks uncanny (because he lived in one just like it). In a home where there is a Rick he despises. A home with a Morty. For a split second, this "Morty", the one who escaped, wishes to usurp this peaceful life. It'd be easy, just make sure the other one doesn't get back home from school, and then slip into his shoes.
But instead of fighting, usurping, or even trying to toy with him, they make a deal. An open promise of tomorrow. A truce, in which friendship is possible, if he just tries. A chance for this specific version of himself to provide a feeling of being known.
"Morty" soon realizes, after a good amount of hangouts and adventures, that it's scary how well this other self, this Morty who was descended from the awful Rick Prime, could just tell when something was off.
Laying on his bed, side by side, his voice brought him back to the here and now.
"E? Are you okay, bro? Em? Morty?" He shook his troubled counterpart by the shoulder.
The "Morty" who had been staring at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time, who was absolutely not listening to the conversation for a while now, sat up slowly. He blinked and licked his lips. His throat was dry. He looks down at his hands, then looks up at the Morty next to him. "Hey... I'm... fine." His tone was as flat as ever.
The other smiles uneasily. His usually sunny disposition is offset by the tension in the room. He watches the other "Morty" carefully. "A-Are you sure? You spaced out on me for a hot minute."
"I guess I did, huh." He looks back down at his hands. He feels incredibly detached from himself, his name, this life he's created—a life where he's in outer space in one moment, and down here in the Smith residence the next. Hanging out with another "him" who wasn't anything like him, and yet everything was familiar. One who was concerned for him and... if he dared to think so... actually cared about him.
"What's going on? Y-You can talk to me." Morty takes the other's hand and holds it gently. He gives him a soft, reassuring smile. He's well aware that between the two of them, the one most tormented by the fucked up reality of multiverse travel was the boy beside him.
As the weight and warmth of the hand holding his seeps in, and gives this jaded "Morty" the slightest bit of comfort, he begins to make sense of his thoughts. He's no Morty. But then, who can he be? Maybe he can find his answer within his other self.
"Please, give me a name."
"Huh?" Morty blinks. He's never heard such a request before. Honestly, he's not sure if he's heard correctly. "A... name?"
"Yes, Morty. A name. I feel like..." He sighs, pulling his hand away and hugging his own torso, the pressure an attempt to calm down. "I'm not like you. I'm not like the others. And I don't mean it in a bad way, not necessarily. Sometimes I feel like... I was only named Morty because I look like every single one of you. But that's not me... you know?"
Morty listens carefully. He's sort of always known that fact, in the back of his head. This "Morty", who he had once nicknamed to be "Evil Morty", was an outlier. Somehow the smartest and most cunning "Morty", out of thousands of different versions of himself. And yet, he wasn't so different. Just like him... He was just a kid. A kid who was trying to make sense of himself, in a chaotic universe. He understood as much.
"So, do you want to be called s-something else?"
"Yes..." He nods.
"Hmm..." Morty puts some thought into it. He has never named another person, or offered any help in that regard. "Well... Do you have an idea of what sounds you like?"
"I..." The other coughs into his fist. He looks away, somewhat embarrassed. "I guess... I like it when you call me 'Em'", he mumbles.
Right, "Em". It was born out of the initials for "Evil Morty", E. M. Not that had ever been a nickname that he'd enjoyed, but he'd simply asked to be called "Em" when he first offered Morty their little truce.
"Well... If you like the sound of Em... How about.. Emmett?"
"Ew." Em makes a face. "Nope, not that."
"Then how about... Emile?"
"Nah, too French for my taste."
"Eve?"
"What? That doesn't even have an M sound."
"Ethan?"
"Do I look like an Ethan to you?"
"Okay then... Bob?"
"Okay we're starting to lose the plot here." He chuckles and sighs. Em goes to stand by the window, watching the sky turn hues of orange and gold. The sun always sets so beautifully on this side of the galaxy.
Morty comes to stand beside him, leaning on his desk nonchalantly. He watches the sunset too, thinking of a possible name.
Suddenly, an idea pops into his head. "Hey! There was this one name in a book from E-English class..."
"Since when do you read?" The other asks with sarcasm. He smirks up at Morty, clearly joking.
"I never said I read it! Listen, s-some kid did a book report one time, and in the presentation she mentioned the name of a character that... well, sounded pretty cool."
"Well, spit it out then."
"Emory."
He paused, thinking it over in his mind. Emory. He vaguely thought it to be clever - if you remove the T from Morty, and add an E, suddenly its interesting. New. Different. His eyes light up, even if he doesn't notice. But Morty does, and upon noticing the change in expression on the other boy's face, he smiles.
"So, you like it?"
"I do. It's... new. I think it has a certain flair to it."
Morty chuckles and finally, his tense shoulders relax. "Y-Yeah! It's got a nice ring to it. If you want it, of course."
"I like it. I can be an Emory." With his eyepatch, he instantly looks up the meaning. Brave & powerful. Leader. Strength. All were very appealing attributes to have. He definitely felt like he embodied them.
"Cool! Cool cool cool..." Morty trails off, looking between the setting sun and the boy in front of him. It was like looking into a mirror, but finding a different picture of himself staring back.
"What? Come on, say it. You're thinking about something." How had they become so familiar with each other? Even the former Morty knew all of his tells already.
Morty chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, feeling sheepish. "O-Oh! Well... Can I still call you 'Em'? I've gotten used to it."
Emory nods. "You can."
"And uh... why me? W-Why did you want me to pick your name out for you?"
"Because," Emory shifts his stance, turning to be face-to-face with Morty. He reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder. (A rare occurrence.) "You're also not like the others. You understand me, Morty."
"Oh..."
After a few moments of quiet staring, and then averting their gazes, the intimate moment was gone. How mortifying it is to be known.
Emory shoots a golden portal into the air, across the room. "Thanks for hanging out with me today. I need to get going."
Morty feels a small pang of disappointment tug at his chest. But still, he sports a signature smile. "Y-Yeah dude, no problem. Anytime."
As Emory steps into the portal, he gifts Morty the rare appearance of a smile. Waving goodbye, he leaves.
Even as the golden swirls of the portal have gone, the boy's mind swirls with new thoughts, new feelings, new ideas about himself and his place in the universe. For a moment, the weight of knowing someone, and of being known, is not such a heavy burden anymore.