And it runs on batteries. How immensely impractical. Iman frowns, folding her arms as she gives the thing a once-over.

"This might take a lot out of me," she says. "It'll recharge - no batteries here, it comes out of me, just - I can't exactly stop for a breather, here." Well, maybe they can trade off. She reaches out to take the battery. "Here goes nothing."

She reaches into the battery's inner workings - like riding a bike, even if it feels strangely unfamiliar, like she hasn't done it in a while - and tells it to wake up.

"And you should be good for another..." she slips it back into its slot, "however long these things last."