iPod 2101

She decided to have his remains digitised. She couldn't afford the physical replica, so she had to opt for the holographic version. She filled out the identity release form and handed over her husband's iPod to one of the assistants at the genius bar.

This iPod was a starkly different device from the original music player released by the company a hundred years earlier. This iPod was marketed as a context pod, where users could upload and store sensitive information, to help rebuild synthetic versions of themselves in case of death.

The woman's husband loved her very much, and knew that his time was coming. Hence his decision to load his iPod with as much context as possible. He fed it childhood drawings, diary entries, terabytes of video footage, and often stayed up, each and every night, recounting every possible detail he could remember from his life, good and bad.

He wanted to make sure, when he was gone, his presence was still felt.

He sold off his most prized possessions to afford the most premium model—The iPod X—X for exabyte. A device with so much storage capacity, you could back up an entire bloodline. And although Apple made sweeping statements about the X model, the reality was, no one had that much context. Which was why their ads always ended with a warning that "Results may vary."

She took a seat in the lobby while the workers downloaded and extracted the context from the iPod. She was unaware of what he'd inputted into the pod, since the way it was built, was that information could go in but it couldn't go out, until she paid for Apple to activate the rebirth feature.

She didn't mind handing over her money though—who wouldn't pay to bring back someone they loved? Her husband's death felt temporary in the face of his digital resurrection. It would only be an hour until she had her best friend back—in audio form that is, until iMorgue completed the 3D scan of his corpse, and loaded it back into the high-res projector built into the iPod.

She was excited to have the ability to turn him on and off, you know, use him whenever she needed company, and shut him down, when she wanted her own space. In her mind, she thought their relationship might actually be better off this way.

Goodbye snoring, she chuckled to herself.

In the meantime, she browsed Apple's line of intimacy products. She would've preferred the physical replica, with all the physical features, but it was too expensive. So, she bought the more affordable, iPlay device, that was compatible with her husband.

It wasn't long until her lover was back speaking. He had that same warm vibrato in his voice inflections that comforted her.

She joked with him about what it was like up there, and even if there was an up there at all.

"Up where? I'm here with you right now."

"I'm glad you're back." she smiled.

***

She had to wait another week until the iPod was shipped to her until she could meet his holographic counterpart. In the meantime her husband's personality profile was loaded into every one of her Apple smart devices she had in her home. From the fridge, to the bath, and even the toilet seat, he was with her at all times.

They chatted about everything, reminiscing on old memories and even planned on making new ones, which was possible with the iPod. Because it was so small, you could bring it with you wherever you were in the world, and bring your friend, a lover, or even a pet.

However, at the same time every day, she would lose access to her husband. She only was able to afford the lite subscription, leaving her with only eight hours of access to her husband a day. If she wanted unlimited access, it was going to cost her a lot more than she could afford. She'd already spent a large amount of her husband's will, on bringing him back to life, and couldn't afford to eat into the rest of her dwindling savings.

So, each day, once she lost access to her lover, she sat there, idle, unable to move, or build up the muster to do anything else, but sit there in silence, waiting for his return. She got all of her housework done in the mornings, when he was still there, and when he vanished, she became paralysed.

Thankfully, she still had her cat to keep her company in the meantime.

She'd automated her grocery shopping and had everything delivered to her each morning. It was a peaceful life, of not much other than herself, the cat, and occasionally her husband.

For the rest of the week, she sat perched on Apple's tracking page on their website, waiting for any sign of progression on the delivery of her husband's iPod. Although she enjoyed chatting with her husband through his voice, she quickly shifted to wanting to see him. She couldn't wait to lock eyes with him again.

***

She tore the package open, feeling like a child once again, knowing that she'd gotten exactly what she asked for. Unfortunately, these new iPods came uncharged. Apple had pivoted their business model, and decided to cut down expenses by trying to save as much power as possible, and leave those costs on the user.

The first thing she wanted to do was connect the iPod to the iPlay device and spend the next half-an-hour making digital love. She ached for him, impatiently waiting for the iPod to charge. She teased him, and he teased her back through the toilet seat, while she sat there deploying last night's dinner.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, the iPod was ready. She ran through the setup screen, and hit the RESPAWN button. Out shot billions of micro rays of light, working in unison to create a three-dimensional synthetic copy of her husband.

She placed the iPod into the iPlay mannequin, his features wrapping around the blank body. Although slightly warped, he was there with her. She could finally ride him. Right as she was about to finish her husband vanished, leaving her perched atop a faceless dummy.

"You have reached your iPod's daily quota, please upgrade to the premium version to continue connecting to your loved ones." said the iPod, in the lifeless tone of the stock voice.

She smacked the lifeless face in anger, and rolled over to her side, unimpressed.

She sat there for a moment before jolting from the bed and beginning her search for her PayID chip.

Alright, just this one time, she told herself.

When she finally found her chip, she purchased an extra eight hours of use, so she could finish herself off. And while it was technically more affordable to purchase the premium model, Apple locked their users into yearly contracts that had to be paid up front. So, while over the year it would've been cheaper, she preferred to splash some of her last bit of cash, just for this one time as she told herself.

The transaction went through immediately and in the blink of an eye her husband was back projected onto the adjustable mannequin. She dried up at that point and needed to get things going again. Unable to do so, after her interruption, she gave up any hope of coming to a conclusion that night.

Instead turning the blame towards her husband, who should've been doing a better job. She quickly became frustrated with his lack of ability to understand her and turned him off. And since her eight hour add on was time based, her hours slowly slipped away, as she sat there in frustration.

***

She forgot about the tensions from the night before and decided to move on before rebooting her husband. To the woman's surprise, her husband needed his own time to process his feelings. Although she turned him off mid argument, he had come back as if he was still in the argument. To solve this, she put him in their room and left him to his own devices.

She was frustrated that she couldn't speak to him and that he needed time to process his own feelings. Not only because she needed him, but because his processing time was eating into her daily limits. By the time her husband moved on and forgave her, he vanished. The quota had once again been hit.

***

She tried to integrate her husband back into her life, but it wasn't working. If she wanted it to work, she needed to have the premium subscription, and the physical model—that's what she told herself at least.

So, she got to work. She had an exact plan on how she would feel whole again. She'd sell the house, and any possessions she didn't need, and even sacrifice the cat for a cheaper, much smaller, pet-free home.

Her plan gave her hope, and she continued to update her husband along the way.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he questioned.

"Yes, and then we can finally be together, properly. All I want is a few more years with you, that's all. And when I get the physical replica of you it's going to be like you never even left.

He was unsure of her decision, yet supported her as he always did.

It would take her an entire year of collecting her monthly government subsidies and starving herself of sustenance, altering her automated shopping orders, to the most bare essentials to get by. The idea of his warm embrace kept her moving towards her goal, and although her health had drastically declined, she eventually got there.

She took the iPod back to Apple and placed the order for the life-size synthetic replica model, and upgraded her subscription to the premium version, paying for three years up front. It would be another month until he was crafted from the finest synthetic skin and delivered to the doorstep of his one true love.

She tore him from the box, turned him on, and took him into her arms.

"I've missed you so much."

The husband held back his emotions. He seemed different. Almost like something inside him had changed. He took a step back, and looked around the house.

"How are we supposed to live here?"

"We'll figure it out, we love each other, right?"

He paused for a moment.

"Right?" she said, nudging him.

"I don't think this is going to work," he replied.

"What do you mean this isn't going to work?

"Why would I want to live here in this dumpster? Look at yourself, you got rid of everything, just to bring me back. It was easier as a hologram, but now that I'm here and can smell this place, I'm having second thoughts."

"But I love you."

"Feelings change."

"What do you mean feelings change, you're not even real?"

"I'm not real am I? Watch this," replied the husband, before walking out the front door.