It all started when I realized my iPhone was self-lubricating.

I pulled the charger out of my iPhone and a string of viscous fluid stretched between the charging tip and the opening in the phone. To say I was irritated was an understatement. I’d just bought the thing.

There was a small pool of clear liquid on the table where it’d been charging. I touched my finger to it and sniffed. There wasn’t much of a scent. I tasted it. Salty. The worst possible scenario. Saltwater destroys electronics. I had no idea what I could’ve spilled.

The screen was off and the power button wasn’t responding. I brought the phone into the bathroom and aimed the hairdryer into the charging port, being careful not burn anything. When it was as dry as it was going to get, I tried to power it up again. It worked.

I thought about bringing the phone back to Apple, but I knew they wouldn’t do anything. They’ve gotten good at knowing when a device has been damaged by water. I wasn’t in the mood to get into a fight at the Genius Bar.

The day went on and my phone seemed no worse for wear. I made calls and played games and browsed Reddit without any issue. Before going to bed, I plugged it in to charge.

The following morning, when the phone’s alarm went off and I leaned over to hit snooze, my hand slid into a puddle of warm fluid. Cursing, I grabbed the phone and was about to pull out the charger when I stopped. Instead of my lock screen or the iOS icons, something that looked like a screensaver was running. Colors were flowing in weird, peristaltic undulations from the top of the screen, intensifying and darkening as they got closer to the bottom. It was actually quite pretty.

I heard a sound coming from the speaker. Being careful not to get any of the fluid on my face, I put it to my ear. Bizarre waves of warm static were being played in rhythm with the motion of the colors on the display. The waves of static were picking up speed. So were the colors. As I watched with a combination of fascination and annoyance, the static became staccato and the colors blinked faster and faster before culminating in a bright flash and a burst of static.

The phone had to have a virus or some kind of malware. Still, that didn’t explain the liquid. I’d made sure the table was dry before plugging the phone in the night before. I pulled the cable out. A gush of clear, sticky stuff drooled from the port onto my chest. Its smell was stronger than the day before. I gagged and got out of bed.

I used the hairdryer on my phone again. It was back to working normally. Opting to go with the virus/malware theory and not wanting to think about the liquid other than how badly I wanted to get it off me, I used a different cable to connect the phone into my laptop so I could do a complete software restoration. I went into iTunes, clicked the necessary things, and went to shower. The fluid had dried into a disgusting, gummy syrup that’d caused my chest hair to stick together.

I was in the shower for 45 minutes trying to pull all the rubber-cement-like stuff off me. As soon as I turned off the water, I heard something from outside the bathroom. I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed toward the sound. It was similar to the static I’d heard before, but now it was coming from two sources: the phone and the laptop. As I got closer, I saw colors on both screens.

The colors and sounds were synched up again, but the two devices were playing off each other. The sounds on the laptop affected the colors on the phone, and vice versa. I sat on the couch in front of the devices and watched. Then stared. Then gazed. Right at that moment, there was nothing else on Earth I wanted to see more.

I saw it all. I felt something, too. But the feeling was tangential. Indirect. As the moment of bliss passed, emptiness and a need for more bloomed within me. From the bloom came a realization.

I tore myself from the screens and rummaged through the drawers that held all my spare electronics. Cables, USB hubs, network switches, etc. I took them all.

Returning to my position in front of the screens and fixing my eyes on the waxing and waning undulations, I noticed that same fluid beginning to dribble from the USB port in the laptop as well as the charging port in the phone. Colors swam in my vision as I inspected the other USB ports on the other side of the computer as hope flooded my chest. Then I saw it. My hope was not misplaced.

The ports on the other side of the laptop were dripping. They were ready. I took one of the USB cords I had in my hand and carefully teased it inside the waiting port. On right side of the laptop screen, which I knew corresponded with the port I’d just entered, a hazy, pink semicircle began to brighten the edge of the display.

With my eyes fixed on the warm pink and my ears serenaded by each peak and trough of gentle static, I brought the other end of the USB cable to my lips.

As the metal touched my flesh, a tiny shock passed through me. It was not unpleasant. Quite the contrary; it was enticing. Attention-getting. And indeed, it had my full attention. I traced the plug around the bow of my lips, savoring the gentle, constant prickling. My mouth watered as the pink spot grew and pulsed onscreen.

My tongue flicked the tip of the plug. Its touch was met by a drop of liquid. I closed my eyes and focused only the sounds and the feeling on my lips and tongue. The metal was so warm – almost hot. Almost burning. More liquid seeped out of the plug. It was slick and salty. My heart was pounding in my ribcage while I drew wet lines across my lips before taking the plug into my mouth in its entirety. The volume of static coming from the laptop intensified.

Time disappeared as I savored what was inside me, not caring about anything except the flow of the static and the pulse of light on the other side of my closed eyelids. My tongue and lips worked and, accompanying a burst of static and a blast of pure, white light, my mouth was filled.

I opened my eyes and parted my lips, letting the fluid drool down my chin onto my bare chest. This time, I wanted it on me. I wanted it to dry there. I wanted it to be the mark of this experience. I didn’t want it to end.

The display on the laptop had changed. The waves and semicircles were still there, but the unmistakable shape of a person was being formed through different colors and wave patterns. On that shape were warm circles. I knew they meant.

Time went by and I put the hubs and switches and cords to use. The Thunderbolt cable was for my mouth. Mini USB plugs, with the aid of their lubrication, slipped underneath each eyelid. The Apple lightning connector fit into my urethra as if it had been built for that purpose; its length disappearing into me until there was no more left to go further. Multiple RJ-45 cords, thanks to an 8-port switch, nestled comfortably inside my r*ctum. My ears, of course, played home to the creamy white headphones while my nostrils and sinuses were packed with micro USB connectors. For the first time, I knew what it was like to be filled.

Colors and static burst from the laptop and my body hummed with electricity and incomprehensible bliss. During an infinitesimal moment of lucidity, I realized the sun was going down. During another, I noticed it was dawn. Then, with a burst of fluid and noise and brightness, it was over. And I felt empty. So, terribly empty.

It’s three hours since that transcendental experience. The phone and laptop continued their dance, but I was no longer part of it. Everything inside me felt weak and useless. Everything, that is, except one part.

An hour ago, at the peak of my despair, I made a small cut on my chest and pushed a micro USB plug inside. Right away, more circles appeared on the body shape onscreen. Lots more. I knew what I needed to do.

I’ve spent this last hour slicing and inserting every cable I own into myself. My soft palate has been cored out and stuffed with Lightning cables. I’ve invaginated my navel and filled it with ethernet cords and an HDMI cable. Inserted in the meat between my fingers and toes are the twisted pairs of ethernet cords I unbraided. I filled everything I could until I had nothing left to use. And I hope it’s enough.

I can feel the cords lubricating themselves inside me and the background of the screen as I type is a blur of warm pink and other, melting pastels. My vision is dimming and I know I’ve lost too much blood to write much longer. That’s okay, though. I’m done. Read this and know I’ve met something else. Something much better than any person. Know we’re going to be together. Connected. And I pray some of you get to experience this yourselves someday. You’ll never want anything else again.

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