In the humans’ world, everything connects with everything else. Cables for this, cables for that. Camera to computer. Phone to laptop. Charger to, well, everything.
This is the human female’s favorite:
It’s something called “USB” on the hearty end and “micro USB” on the diamond one. I’m not sure, but I think USB stands for “upside-down, skewed, or backwards,” which are the three ways of inserting one.
This cable is exceptionally fine. When plugged in, it lights up, glowing an eerie blue all along its length, like it was made of the tesseract itself. She uses it all the time, hooking up between the charging block and her phone or tablet.
It’s a pity, then, that the charging block sits on the floor so close to the sofa. Even more of a pity that the sofa’s a recliner, and that it’s old enough to need a hefty shove to get it to un-recline. And a pity most of all that yesterday I nudged the charging block so that this lovely cord was in the sofa’s maw. That heart-bedecked end took the full force of the slam-shut. It still lights up just fine, but it’s never going to help anything talk to anything else, ever again.
USB=Unfortunately, Sadly, Bent.