"And what exactly is this?" Edgeworth asked the Chief Prosecutor as she handed him a small, flat device bearing the legend "BlueBerry Touch".
Lana blinked. "I told you, that's your new cell phone. We're all switching to smartphones. I've already arranged for your number to be transferred."
Edgeworth peered at the device, skepticism writ plain across his face. "How can this be a phone? I see neither buttons nor rotary dial."
Lana rolled her eyes. "It's got a touchscreen. You need to turn it on first. The power switch is on the top."
Edgeworth's stare of polite incredulity turned to barely-concealed confusion and eventually flagrant horror as the Chief Prosecutor switched on the phone to reveal a colorful, animated menu that flickered and swam flirtituously as she scrolled through the key features. She showed him where the menu items were to make calls, send text messages, use the camera, web browser, a game called "Irate Avians" with deliberately (it seemed to Edgeworth) ugly art, and the wide, wide array of tinny tunes that he could use as his ringtone.
Apparently, a standard telephone ring was not an option.
"That is not a phone," he informed his boss flatly. "That is a ridiculously small computer. I already have a laptop. It is more than adequate for my needs."
"Tough luck, I'm requiring everyone to use them. I've seen your phone, Miles, and frankly you can't go around using a dinosaur like that any longer. It doesn't even accept text messages! And that is a capability you need, because in a state of emergency, texts are more likely to go through than phone calls, because they're smaller." She pushed the phone firmly into Edgeworth's hand, and forced his fingers around it.
Edgeworth waited until Lana had left, and then as soon as she was out of earshot, called up customer service to have the number transferred back to his old phone.
It was not the last argument Edgeworth had with Lana over the ridiculous device. Eventually, the Chief Prosecutor turned to sending him text messages instead of emails and demanding he send her photographs ("for her records", she said, but they both knew it was to make sure Edgeworth was using the infernal device) of crime scenes and evidence that he was viewing.
Edgeworth complied grudgingly with her demands as best he could. However, it wasn't just a matter of principle that made it difficult for him to follow them; the blasted touchscreen interface didn't make any sense to him, and he never could seem master the ridiculous flicks and twitches necessary to navigate the menus with ease. It was demeaning, having to ask Gumshoe for help, but what else could he do?
On Christmas morning that year, while being questioned about the murder of Richard Hammond, Edgeworth took a small measure of comfort informing Lana that due to his surprise at Hammond's sudden death, he'd accidentally dropped his BlueBerry in Gourd Lake.