"Grey, grubbing groupers in a thundering hurricane! That cow's trying to break into Mr. Nudibronk's vegetable patch! This is the second time he called!"

Dea sighed in her sleep pod, rudely awakened from her daydream.

Two days had gone by since she returned to Calliathron from her adventure in the wilderness—a welcome break she mostly spent zonking out in her room.

She groped around for the oxy-hose for a quick sip, even though she was half out of the water. The new smart domes were like large terrariums, partially filled with breathable atmosphere. Her pod jutted up mere inches above the water level—a white islet not unlike the rest of the furniture.

"You call that animal off his property now, young lady." The mini tidal wave that was Gramma's voice rolled through the little house. "That ball of blubber is an absolute menace!"

Dea shifted to a more comfortable position and watched the water rippling out with the motion. It cast shimmering reflections, dabbed with turquoise, on the achromatic walls.

"Dea? You hear me or not?"

"Yes, yes, Gramma, I hear you." She scrambled off the pod's translucent waterbed, causing the pink blobs inside to move like amoebas. "I gave him some grapes and lettuce—I think he's developed a taste for it. You know, after the ordeal."

"Ordeal? What ordeal? He was just grazing in the meadows when the search parties found him."

"Hima said he looked forlorn."

Exasperated clicks emanated from the kitchen, which was an adjacent cubicle barely bigger than her room. Dea mused how fast Gramma had reverted to her old self—even grumpier for some reason.

Dea navigated through the clutter to her curving window that looked out onto a neighboring wall of coral and mobile homes. Fish darted outside in a synchronous dance—bright, spirited and strikingly colorful.

Her gaze halted on a balcony, where tilled earth and clay pots contained several varieties of sea vegetables—delicate fronds of green and red that swayed in the current. Hovering by it was her sea cow, facing off Mr. Nudibronk, who flapped his sluggish arms in an attempt to shoo him off.

She suppressed a giggle and let out a shrill whistle. The cow turned around with an answering chirp.

"No, cow!" she said, modulating her tone the way she had done before when she tried to train him.

The chubby sirenian gave the vegetables a wistful look but moved away. It was definitely due to the prospect of better treats for good behavior.

"Mr. Nudibronk, I'm really sorry about my cow," she called out. "He's not fully trained yet!"

The elderly merman mumbled something under his breath and stormed indoors.

Dea laughed and paddled up to her ledge table that followed the length of a rounded wall. Her computer was on it, emitting a pink glow akin to bioluminescence. She slid onto the chair and gave it a fond pat.

The impressive rig resembled a bigger version of her unfurled ogi. It cost a small fortune, which she managed after saving up for almost two years. It was now the most valuable possession among her worn things, except for the gold starfish jewelry that Gramma said belonged to her mother.

Dea emitted a combination of clicks to log in and deliberated the research that greeted her from the point she left off.

It turned out that movie portrayals of humans were far from accurate. For instance, humans came in varying degrees of hairiness despite being almost naked compared to other primates. Movies depicted female humans with silky hair coverage on the legs—hair being a coveted feature. She was surprised to watch a scientist explain that many females actually shaved it off for aesthetic reasons, while leg hair was a phenomenon mostly observed in males.

Deep in thought, Dea pressed the touchpad to enlarge the photo of the human's card. She leaned on the table, a hand propping up her chin. Yeah, he's definitely quite something.

An incoming call interrupted the moment. She started and gave her head a quick shake.

"Dea, hey!" Hima grinned, her angular face looming big on the screen. "I met Oomie at uni today."

"Not so loud—Gramma might overhear." Dea let out a giggle. "So? What happened? Did you get to talk to her?"

"I'll tell you at work," she said in a gleeful whisper. "You're coming today, right?"

"Yep."

"Good." There was a pause while Hima took a swig from her bottle. "So...about the human. Any progress?"

"Well," Dea said, drawing out the word for dramatic effect, "I deciphered the card."

"What!" The other girl blinked. "Wow. Merlingo had the language?"

"Mhmm. Hang on..."

Dea opened her session on Merlingo, a treasure trove of nomad tongues, fictional words, old dialects and even dolphin communication. It was the only language-learning service on the C-Net that contained this particular human language.

"It's called...Sinhalese." Dea tapped on the note with the translations. "I know his name now."

"Which is?"

"Dilip Goonewardane."

"What?"

"Dilip."

"Yeah, I meant that long-ass name after that."

"Goonewardane."

"How many times did you say it?" Hima smirked. "You seem pretty comfortable with it."

Heat fanned out over Dea's face. "A few times—what? It's not every day I meet a human!"

Hima laughed, the sound burbling as her head bobbed beneath the waterline in her room. "Well, he's got a crushable face."

"Mhmm. I also got the rest of the text translated." Her heart fluttered with excitement. "This is a driver's license."

"Oh."

"His country is called Serendiva—now I don't know if I'm pronouncing these right. I mean, humans don't use all our vocal sounds, for one thing. Their hearing's not the best either."

"And the squiggles at the bottom of the card?"

Dea scrutinized the squiggles in question on the human's card, open on one corner of her screen.

21/5 උතුරු සල්මල්වත්ත​, සෙරන් නුවර​

She compared it to her translated text with a feeling akin to unearthing arcane knowledge from an ancient tome. "Those read 21/5 North Salmalwatte, Seren City. It must be where he lives!"

"Whoa."

A prolonged silence stretched out between them, marked by the subtle whir of the ventilation system. Hima's face alternated between awe and fascination, water reflections bringing out the blue in her eyes.

Dea lowered her voice to a murmur, "You know what this means?"

"Okay," she said, leaning forward, "I don't like that gleam of madness in your eyes."

"Hima, I have to go explore!" Dea drummed her fingers together while a thrill juddered down her spine. "I think he'd recognize me. Plus, imagine how this would boost the pro-human movement. Assuming of course that I don't get exiled or—"

"Hold up," Hima blurted out, her voice hushed. "You're seriously considering going out there voluntarily?"

"I thought about it a lot, okay? And—"

"You can't just go swimming off to meet this unknown human! It's a good thing your Gramma doesn't know you met a human in the first place. How are you even going to get around on land? Plus, if you get caught—"

"I know the risks! But this is big. It's—"

"Dea?" Gramma's voice wafted in from the kitchen, accompanied by the clatter of cutlery.

Dea adopted an innocent tone. "Yes, Gramma?"

"Come and eat."

"I'm in a call."

"Here, you can't gobble up your food like that animal of yours. Honestly, you youngsters and your darned toys. Do you want to be late for work?"

"Okay, Gramma, give me a minute." Dea turned back to her friend. "Look, I know there are some pressing problems. But I have most of it figured out."

Hima just looked at her like she'd suddenly sprouted human legs.

She sighed. "I'll meet you at work soon, okay?"

Shortly afterwards, Dea drifted out of her room, shoving aside the pastel pink jellyfish buoys she used for décor. The monotone of a news broadcast greeted her as she approached her destination.

The kitchen extended up to a window, the sunny view partially obscured by a coral outcrop. Shelves tapered up along the curving walls on all sides, threatening to smother the small space. It was inundated with water up to the level of the counters, most of which were close to overflowing with stacks of jars, utensils and even pots of tender green asparagus and purslane. Strips of LEDs illuminated various ingredients in splotches of color—everything from dried nori to pickled vegetables in brine.

"Ah, there you are," Gramma said, kneading dough on a counter with surprising vigor while the TV played a news program. "So much to do in this house. I was washing the pots, and now my back is aching too. I'm going to be dead and gone one of these days. Who's going to do all this then?"

Dea sighed and paddled up to her. "Let me do that."

Gramma smacked away her hand, though the offer seemed to have appeased her. "You go and eat before the food gets cold, child."

She turned to the kitchen island, atop which was a plate of cooked grain with her favorite curries. "Ooh."

"Mhmm. You should learn to cook a decent meal. Girls used to get married at your age. What are you going to feed your husband?"

Dea rolled her eyes as she settled down at the island. "He can feed himself."

Gramma shot her a stern look, which prompted her to flash a placating smile. "Dea, I wanted to speak to you about something important."

"Mm?" She sank her teeth into a chunk of meaty seitan, reveling in the fried umami tang. Gramma's cooking is the best in the world!

"Your eighteenth birthday."

A spoonful of creamy beetroot curry occupied her full attention. "Mm, mm."

"It's a big day..."

"It'th juth a b'day, Gamma," Dea managed to mumble while her brain dwelled on Gramma's hesitant tone—the old merwoman usually barreled into any topic headfirst and spoke her mind.

"Can you eat properly, young lady? And stop slouching."

She swallowed the food. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about how I eat and swim and, well, just about everything I do?"

Gramma shook her head and started stretching the dough. "Where was I? Oh, yes. It's a big day because..."

As the words trickled away, Dea threw her a glance. The TV held her attention. A balding merman was speaking. His rigid posture and immaculate attire exuded an air of authority that brought to mind the military.

It was Hal Moray Massa, the Regent of Calliathron.

"—cannot be ignored. It's a matter of time before they directly invade our waters."

The TV host nodded. "Your Excellency, what do you have to say about the backlash your Burble received last week?"

The Regent's lips curved into a half-smile. "I'm aware about the growing number of our young people who have developed certain...sympathies towards the terrestrials. That backlash was to be expected since a large proportion of users on Burbler fall within that age group."

Gramma made a clicking noise and flung a look at Dea—as if the Regent was specifically talking about her granddaughter.

Argh. Dea went back to eating, one hand propping up her chin.

"The peace and prosperity of Calliathron have made our young people complacent," Massa went on. "They're like the wild cows who know not what's good for them until they perish."

"Regarding the report on human trawling that's decimated the deep-sea reefs further north..." The merwoman paused, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Of course, that's just the tip of the iceberg. And residents in the western suburbs have started a petition about the coral bleaching—they're demanding that humans be held accountable for their carbon emissions."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Kunisa." The merman leaned back on the high-backed chair. "I have already assigned a task force to investigate the extent of human activity endangering our oceans."

"What is your message to our viewers in light of these events?"

Massa turned, his grey-eyed stare aimed directly at the camera. "My administration stands firm against the human threat. I give my word to all citizens that they are safe."

When the show concluded, Gramma turned down the volume, relief written all over her face. The words seemed to have kindled a fire in her. She attacked the dough as if it were her sworn enemy.

Dea rolled her eyes and chewed the last of the seitan. Her idle finger trailed over the water, which lapped gently against the island, mere inches below the countertop.

"I'm so glad I voted for that man," her grandmother murmured reverently.

"He's just riding on public sentiment. The truth is, we hardly know anything about humans, Gramma." Dea moved past the broken dishwasher to the kitchen sink. "It's true that land isn't much. But there are billions of humans and entire countries out there! Maybe we should just talk to them."

Gramma stopped kneading and placed a plump hand on her hip. "You and your idealism. Humans are not cows that you can tame—they're an infestation! If you lived to my age, child, you'd know what they're capable of."

"Yeah, what His Excellency and his government feed you about the outside world. It's propaganda."

Veins of outrage popped up on Gramma's temples—the telltale sign of a domestic cyclone.

"I gotta get moving." Dea hurriedly stowed away the plate. "Don't wanna be late for work."

Without warning, the sea cow's face appeared on the window—as if he sensed his favorite merperson was about to exit the house.

"Cow, hey!" Dea waved, thankful for the distraction. "I thought of naming him Burpy—it's kinda cute when he burps."

Gramma directed her frowning face at the cow, the hand still on her hip.

"I'm leaving then." Dea smoothed her roomy, black mermen's shirt. "See you later!"

"Is that a tent you're wearing? You look like a guttersnipe! And what about that silly animal?"

"I'll leave him in that field till I get back."

"There are children playing there."

"They like him, Gramma."

She didn't wait to hear the response as she dashed to the front airlock, the daring plan to venture out to the human city solidifying in her mind.

Animal: Dugong

https://youtu.be/SE68xQm1yLM