Merman Mating Show: Live!

I decide to get onboard with the latest trend by custom-ordering a merfolk meant to serve me from AquaGene Corp.

On the day Lance arrives at the company, the engineer tells me, "It's highly recommended that you be there in person, Ms. Ross. That way, you'll be able to form the initial bond with him."

So, I spend one day standing before the eco-tank.

As soon as Lance opens his eyes, he doesn't show any signs of wanting to get close to me. Instead, he merely scrutinizes me coldly before turning his back on me.

I comfort myself, thinking that Lance is just shy. But one week later, I realize how wrong I truly am.

I pay money because I want to buy a partner who can keep me company forever. Turns out I buy myself the biggest trouble of the century instead.

I rested my arm on the edge of the tank. On the plate in my hand lay the finest cuts of the freshest fish.

But as time passed, my arm started to go numb and sore, while the figure in the tank remained motionless.

Just when I thought he was going to ignore me again, Lance suddenly moved.

He swam down beneath my arm. I calmly watched as he flicked his tail, aiming a sharp swipe at my hand.

But I let go just before the strike. The carefully prepared fish slipped into the water.

Surprised, Lance glanced at me, then caught the fish and backed away, as if his earlier malice had never existed.

Moonlight poured through the viewing window, casting a glow on his blue shimmering scales.

As I watched him swim away, I shakily pulled out my phone.

"How do you handle the returned merfolk?" I typed.

"Ma'am, merfolk that are sold don't get resold. They're usually broken down into ocean fertilizer."

I looked at the monitor where Lance was elegantly playing with a smart water polo ball.

My fingers typed steadily. "I want a replacement. Right now."

No reply came, but the typing indicator flickered incessantly.

I stared in a daze at the same question I'd asked long ago.

Lance was a custom-ordered merman I got from AquaGene Corp. But since he arrived, he had refused all closeness.

I tried to check him out, but he hid in the reef crevices for two days straight. I played the sound waves merfolk supposedly liked, and he just turned off the receiver.

When I held out food, he waited until my arm was numb before finally gracing me with his presence. But he wouldn't just take it. Instead, he'd lash his tail against my arm, knocking the fish loose just so he could catch it as it fell.

But I wasn't discouraged. The merfolk guide said they liked gentle touches on their cheeks to build trust.

However, the moment my fingers reached his face, he slammed his tail hard on the water's surface.

A huge splash soaked me.

His ear fins flared wide, and his