iPreg

"Ugh... low battery... everything is so damn difficult..."

BREEP

Jessica's ipod began slowly to charge. The little red warning light on her face was replaced by an invariably less aggressive little symbol indicating it was plugged in.

"Too early... in morning... for this crap..."

Sleep mode is a real bitch. You just get into a pretty good cycle, processors wind down, flash memory switched off, and some ass hat comes along and pushes your buttons. You have to be all chirpy and awake and everything, ready to go and fast as lightening or you'll go in the trash can. Life sucks.

She tried to communicate such feelings to Jessica, but she was having none of it. She had some of those giant headphones with stupid looking skulls all over them. Since when did kids have money for this kind of crap? What was wrong with the chic little white ones that had come in the box. She missed them dreadfully sometimes. She wouldn't be seen dead with those ugly bastards inserted in her audio jack. No sir.

She felt a slight shift. Something was happening. She looked about helplessly, where was the screen? She saw the laptop looming over her, and caught the single word glaring at the top of the screen.

"Sync in progress."

Crap! Double Crap!

She'd never been synced before. Nerves overtook her, the laptop was grinning, he wasn't really making this any easier.

"Look away, you friggin' perv!"

She'd heard the first time is the worst, she grew clammy and cold all of a sudden, what if she did something wrong, what if she wasn't compatible, oh god... what if she needed formatting?

She hoped beyond hope Jessica had the right driver base installed.

She felt a peculiar tingling in her belly. At first, she thought it was nerves. She was so uptight she could have pooped in binary.

But then... this wasn't nerves, was it?

Slowly, the tingle turned to a flutter. Then, after the flutter, came the tickle.

She grinned, despite her fear. Whatever the hell was happening to her, it didn't feel as bad as she thought it would...

The tickle grew. She felt a little jolt. Something was in her. She gasped. This wasn't at all what she had expected.

"ooh!"

Another jolt. And another. Then another, and another, and another, going faster and faster, speeding up as they went.

She felt her mind cave in to the pleasure. She lost track of herself, everything became jumbled up inside her, she had no sense of order, place, presence, protocol or time. A whirling, blurring void blinded her with ecstatic waves of joy. The was no sadness in this place, only the singular burning ache of the moment.

All too soon it was over.

She opened one eye cautiously, and glanced at the screen.

DATA TRANSFER COMPLETE.

"So that's what a sync is like..." she thought.

Not so bad after all. Now she just had to organize the mess it had left. All her precious data files and runtime orders, messed about with, strewn haphazardly, added to...

she stopped.

Something was different.

She felt a flutter inside her, a slight kick, a pulse and a hum.

There was...

Data.

She was with file.

A grin crept across her lips. She understood. Gently she caressed her womb, a fullness like nothing else, a lasting sense of peace and harmony. She had been entrusted with this data, and she would carry it, delivering it to the ears of those who would want to listen.

She tried to move it. Unsuccessfully. This would take a bit of practice, she was unaccustomed to carrying this much raw code around inside her.

She smiled maternally still. It was wonderful.

She looked up to the screen, trying to catch a glimpse of what she carried, a hint of genre or composer, something to tell the folks back at the factory. Everything seemed harder when one was so immensely saturated, glutted, and utterly fecund with data. She couldn't possibly hold more.

"Begin transfer... season 1, 2, 3 and 4: Breaking Bad."

Her eyes widened.