"You must have dropped it," the Apple clerk said.
Actually, the iPod had been dashed against a wall. It was also second hand and enchantment had to count as service by an unauthorised vendor, so warranty was out of the question. "I'm not expecting the work to be covered, I just need it repaired," Marge said.
"The iPod 3G is a discontinued model, but this is an excellent opportunity for an upgrade. The most current version is the iPod Video. It's features are, as the name suggests, video. Everything else is also better, from storage capacity to battery life." If the price hadn't been eye-watering, Marge might even have been tempted, but not as a replacement.
"Not thank you." She took her iPod back, clasping its shattered circuits. If her guardian lived, extremely dubious given Goss and Subby's involvement, it was in here.
i
Finding out how to fix an iPod which illustrated the dictionary entry for "broken beyond repair" was a bit like getting into the magick community, except that the latter was easier. Fortunately, Marge wasn't new to salvaging tech.
i
"Nineteen eighty four, nineteen eighty four," the Voice trilled. Lots of details from the time around when it was broken were hazy, and Marge supposed she had erased just how bad a singer it was. All the same, she'd never been so happy to hear terrible Arctic Monkeys karaoke.
She stroked the iPod's new screen. After weeks of repairs it looked like neither a Mac nor a PC. But it worked.
Her throat tightened. This at least she had been able to save, unlike poor Leon.
i
On the first of May of the following year, her little guardian started chirping a new tune. Marge's initial reaction was to scan the Edinburgh street for threats. There was nothing to be seen.
Instead of whisking her away to safety, the voice burbled, "Spurn the dust, win the prize!" Its singing had improved over the months, though not by much. Perhaps Marge had just gotten used to it.
In any case, she understood now. This was not a song that she'd loaded and didn't match its normal musical taste. She waited to see what it would do with the chorus. The answer turned out to be something along the lines of "United this we'll face", though the Voice didn't seem sure either. "Unites the human race" would be offensively insufficient in this context.
Marge lifted the iPod to her face. "So I take that you've joined the Union of Magicked Assistants?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" it sang.
"I'm glad you have." Hopefully this was also a sign that Wati was recovered.
The End