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My chest bows with my stifled inhale until I harness my nostrils andpull in a full breath through my lung sacs instead. I obviously managed to breathe while I slept so my autonomic system is operating perfectly well. It's only lifelong habits that trip me up.
“And thus the Yonderin cybernetic merman program was born,” the AI continues, the computerized voice filling my ears care of earbuds I inserted before I dozed off on the train. Something moves on my neck, right over my healed gill slits, tickling the flesh around the finely raised scars. I reach up and peel off some species of colorful beetle and crush it. It wafts up a retaliatory stench that stings my sensitive nose.
I rub at it, and then scud my hand over the bristles on my face.
Beard hairs. I opted for the facial hair upgrade.
I glance down—and not for the first time, I experience a flare of something akin to disbelief as I see my legs. When I was approached with the offer to turn my mineral rights into an opportunity to have the adventure of a lifetime on land, walking on two legs instead of living life in the deep with my tail, I took the chance. While many of our people have become ambassadors for our species, wielding far more influence on land than we were able to manage before, trapped underwater as we were—some of us just wanted the opportunity to indulge our curiosity and enjoy life on two legs. I am one of these individuals. Painful surgeries aside, it has thus far proved to be a pleasant adventure here.
Shoring up my thoughts so that I can focus on the land environment in which I now reside, I turn to look at my nearest seatmates in this train car.
We’re in the most affordable roomette, which combines couples and singles in a communal sitting area. The seats are close enough that in theory, the car occupants can make conversation. Sadly, the humans were not willing to converse with me when I arrived, hence me taking the opportunity to drift into unconsciousness.
The very closest is a female human, one with a pleasant… ah. A pleasant,cloyingscent. The scent that is likely responsible for triggering a dream sequence wherein I was attacked for nearing a mated pair of Yonderin, I gather as her mate, human and seated beside her, sends me a warning look. They’re dressed in muted, neutral colors, like tiny prey hoping to avoid the attention of predators. The male is wearing fitted trousers, a collared shirt that looks to be made of linen, and a herringbone tweed waistcoat with four buttons, and although I would prefer a brighter color, I admire its construction.
The female is wearing a tab-collared blouse in some flecked pattern, with pleats at its shoulders, gathered sleeves, and tall cuffs at her wrists. Her skirt is an unremarkable brown. Both of them are in hats, him in a black gambler and her in some sort of fancy lady’s hat. The fact thatthe male hasn’t taken his off could be a deliberate insult, I believe. At the very least, I take it to mean they aren’t comfortable enough in my presence to relax, let alone see to niceties.
I’m wearing Dixon striped trousers in an unfortunate blue on blue—it’s very dark. But the man who helped me outfit myself cautioned me against my natural color preferences, and I bent to his advice. I also took his advice about my Wyatt stripe shirt, which is white with light blue striping—and I was very pleased when he praised my first choice of this fine cherry-colored Jacquard vest that I’m wearing over it. My hat is made of genuine beaver felt that’s somewhere between brown and black in color. My boots are Nfurian hybrid leather and have been buffed to a high shine. It was difficult to find pants and boots that would fit my frame. My legs were made quite tall in order to match the length of my body, thus most of my clothing required alteration. I made the tailor very nervous. Sadly, I make most land dwellers nervous. Including, it seems, these train car neighbors of mine.
I attempt to appear nonthreatening. I don't smile; I’ve been finding that it causes activity in the amygdala’s fear response center to hyperactivate in humans when I try, so I do my best to maintain a placid expression. “Excuse me,” I say instead, and watch the female flinch.
Her mate wraps his arm around her and glares at me harder.
“I’m famished,” I inform them.
The woman gasps and covers her mouth with a white-gloved hand.
The whites of the male’s eyes begin to show and a vein at the side of his forehead begins to throb as his heartbeats’ pace explodes.
Guessing at the cause of the couple’s upset, I try to allay their fears. “I can see that you’ve heard of my kind’s reputation. And although Yonderin are known to be a fierce people with fiercer appetites, I’ve been firmly informed that I should not eat humans.”
The woman’s fear response center glows neon.
Her mate's center just about does the same.
“Heifer dust,” I mutter to myself. “Evidently not even the assurance that I was told not to eat humans doesn’t reassure humans.”
The woman bolts from her seat and her mate lunges after her. They huddle on the opposite side of the train car, where the female begins to shake and weep.
When the train car’s door slides open beside them, they both nearly levitate to the ceiling.
“Lunch service,” a train employee begins to call out, friendly-like. But the couple rushes past him, shoving aside his cart in their haste to escape.
As he quickly rights the food service and calms the clattering dishes and silverware, I sigh mightily and slump in my seat.
“What got into them—” the train employee starts to ask before his words abruptly cut off.
Bracing myself, I raise my gaze and find him staring at me. His brain’s fear network is experiencing an explosion of activity, his hippocampus, thalamus, and amygdala instantly overstimulated.
Because of me. Simply at the sight of me.
Clearing my throat, I stay slumped in an attempt not to spook him further. “Do you have any dishes on your cart that contain fish?”
A short time later I’m alone in the train car, consuming something brown and lumpy. Beans and beef, the employee managed to tell me before he fled.
It tastes nothing like the seafood I’ve been accustomed to all my lifespan. But then again, I knew food would be different on land.
I struggle to chew and swallow the foreign material. But as desperately as I miss raw fish meals, I don’t regret that I’ve left home for here, for Traxia’s landmass, embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.
