Our live meeting copilot was called Cue. As of August 2026 it is called Loquelle. Same product, same account, same history, one word changed. The reason we changed it is worth more than the announcement, because it is a problem most products now have and very few have noticed.
Why did we rename the product?
We asked Google AI Mode about “Cue” in the interview-copilot context. It described a competitor — confidently, in detail, and not us. Then we ran our own tool: Iris checks whether a site is actually cited when a real customer question is put to an answer engine. For our category it found eleven sites cited across the questions we care about, and none of them were ours.
Our pages were fine. Structured data, clean headings, fast, indexed. The problem was upstream of all of it.
Why can a common word not be cited?
A search engine matches strings. An answer engine resolves entities: before it can say anything true about your product, it has to decide which thing in the world you mean.
“Cue” is a common English noun. It is also CueInterview, Cue Health, MeetCue, and a product at withcue.ai. Asked about Cue, an engine picks one, and it picks whichever has the most third-party discussion — which is almost never the newest entrant. No amount of on-page work fixes that, because the question was never “is this page good?” It was “which Cue are you asking about?”
How do you choose a name an AI can attribute?
We tested twenty-six candidates. Seven were already taken by companies in or beside our own category:
- Loquora — real-time voice translation inside Zoom, Meet and Teams
- Souffleur — an AI coach for difficult conversations
- Aparte — AI-conducted interviews and workplace audits
- Subvox — silent-speech AI communication
- Extempore — a speaking-practice app
That pattern is the finding. Every elegant word for “quietly telling you what to say” is already owned by somebody building roughly what we are building. The obvious metaphor is obvious to everyone.
So we ran seven checks, and we ran them before shortlisting rather than after:
- The .ai domain returns no live site
- The .com returns no live site and is not a premium listing
- A plain web search for the bare word finds no company, product or app
- A category search finds no competitor
- No established project on GitHub
- No extension in the Chrome Web Store
- Say it out loud. Out if it lands within one phoneme of a common English or software word
Rule seven arrived late, after someone pointed out that our first choice sounded like locale — a word software people read every day. It also removed Elan (Elon), Skald (scald), Corvid (COVID) and Timbre (timber) before we spent a minute on any of them.
What does a rename actually cost?
More than the writing, and almost none of it was the writing.
The old name appeared in metering functions, settings keys, the agent column of every historical row, temp-file locks, routes that installed clients call by URL and cannot be force-updated, and four packaging fields where changing one silently installs a second copy of the desktop app beside the first. We renamed 726 display strings and deliberately left 167 alone, each with a written reason.
Two nearly got us. The store artwork is generated by code, and the generator directory was excluded from the rename scope — fourteen strings sat there saying the old name while our own QA reported zero remaining references. The report was true inside its scope; the scope was what was wrong. And schema.org alternateName exists so an engine holding the old name can resolve it to the new one; our rename tool helpfully replaced the old name inside it with the new one, twice, leaving a field that told engines only what they already knew.
How do you rename without losing the audience you have?
- 301 redirects from every old URL, in a single hop. Placed above the generic rewrite rules, because a two-hop chain on your highest-authority page discards link equity for nothing.
- The API endpoint did not move. Browsers follow redirects; a polling request from an installed app may not. That path stays a real endpoint permanently.
- alternateName carries the OLD name, so the two identities are machine-linked.
- llms.txt states the transition once, with pronunciation and date, and keeps the competitor disambiguation.
- The stored agent identifier never changed. Renaming it would have orphaned every customer's meeting history — the most destructive edit available in our codebase, and the first one a careless find-and-replace makes.
How do I check whether an AI can name my product?
Type your product name into ChatGPT or Perplexity and ask what it is.
If the answer describes somebody else, no amount of SEO work will fix it, because the problem is not your pages. If the answer is vague, you have an entity problem rather than a content problem. If there is no answer at all, that is the most honest result: you have not been discussed anywhere an engine has read.
Loquelle (say lo-KWEL) comes from the French loquèle: ease and fluency in speech. Christine de Pizan used it around 1404 of Charles V's belle loquelle. We picked it because nobody else has it — which, for a product that wants to be found by machines, matters more than picking a word that explains itself.
See what Loquelle does, or run Iris on your own site and find out whether an AI can name you.