Chapter 3

We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep."

― William James

Phil's jaw literally drops open and he takes a step back, and then another. Those dark eyes are directly fixed on his own and, with a strong kick, the merman moves to be level with Phil, face to face through the glass.

"Oh no, I'm going mad. I'm going insane, or did you just-"

Again the voice comes, without his permission or understanding, sounding the words out silently to his mind, this time accompanied with a cool trickle of a laugh.

"Oh yes. You're not insane. Hello."

Phil just stares. He must be insane; he has to be.

"How can you..." His voice trails off, unsteady and unsure. This is him, talking to a merman.

There's no response and he stands there a moment longer, not sure what to do. The merman is unmoving, his eyes blinking occasionally, gaze fixated on him through the oscillating movements of the water.

With a sudden jolt of energy, Phil shakes himself. It must be the sleep deprivation; it has to be, he thinks. Walking to a nearby desk, he throws off his jacket, running his hands haphazardly through his hair. There's a file lying on the desktop, with the painfully cliché stamp "TOP SECRET" marking the cover. Phil had never imagined that top secret government agencies, if they even existed, would be so amusingly unsubtle about their information.

He sits on the edge of the desk, grabbing the file, and flips it open, his eyes darting up to where the merman is still floating at the edge of the tank, watching him. His eyes flick over the words, taking in the most important details, flipping over the pages as he goes. It was just a routine 'dip and strip' tour, going down into trench and collecting some of the plant and animal life to analyse for chemical make up, energy sources and a whole bunch of other reasons. Different specialities would come in and take different aspects of the collected marine life, using what they needed, and the whole lot would be either stored up in little tanks, frozen onto slides for further investigation or education, or dumped back. Phil knew about these kind of academic trips, of course, he'd even been on a few, not that he appreciated the way they destroyed an aspect of the natural environment in order to gain more information. His concerns about the invasive techniques of marine science usually did fall on deaf ears. They hardly had enough support, or funding, the way things were. Concrete evidence is what governments and research companies want, not pictures and hypotheses.

Phil looks back up at the merman, who is still watching him, and puts the file aside. Standing up slowly and taking a few steps back towards the tank, he clears his throat, feeling more that a little foolish. Even if it seems unwise and unlikely, it's worth a shot.

It's such a bad idea. "How can you put your words in my mind? Can you understand what I'm saying?" The words come out almost as a separate entity to Phil, who is busy watching those blue eyes blink and widen slightly at his words, the rest of the merman's face staying remarkably still and unyielding.

"It's hardly ideal to use words underwater." Phil's mind is filled with another cool laugh, more of the sensation of levity than the actual sound of laughter. It's like nothing he can quite describe, a brand new form of sensory input that is clear and tangible but completely foreign. The voice continues, "I can hear everything you say, but you'll understand if I'll keep my replies a little more silent. Not just for convenience."

The merman's eyes dart off Phil briefly and up to one of the security cameras. He doesn't have to say anything more for Phil to understand- handing over information about himself is the last thing this merman wants. He's clearly intelligent enough to comprehend that knowledge, particularly in a situation like this, is power.

Phil frowns.

"How do you know my name?" He keeps his voice to a low whisper.

The merman's lips twitch into a slight grin. "I can hear well, but my vision is also excellent." Phil's eyes flick down to the name badge that he was given at one of the security checkpoints.

"Oh." He can read too? He hadn't thought of mermaids having books (clearly the water would be a big issue) or even formal methods of written communication, but it's a question for a later time.

"What's your name then?" He blurts out, a little more demanding than intended. "Oh, I mean, if you have- er-"

"Dantaeius." The word trickles into his mind and Phil nods. It suits him.

He takes a step back, unconsciously beginning to pace a little in front of the tank as he thinks. Dantaeius' eyes follow him back and forth, small bubbles finding their way to the surface from the gills on his neck. Every so often, Phil glances back up at him, glowing eerily in the darkened room. His fascination at their differences has been completely outweighed by the striking similarities that have emerged from just a few words of conversation- if it can even be called that. He understands organised forces, the power of secrets, gratitude and inference- it is even possible that he and his kind are even more intelligent than humans! Their telepathic communication certainly gives him a developmental advantage that humans have no hopes of achieving anytime soon.

This is perhaps the most curious part for Phil. There are few legitimate scientific inquiries into the possibility of telepathic communication, and none that he's ever read and felt could be close to a reality. If he can send thoughts, does that mean he can hear Phil's? Reading thoughts surely can't be as simple as the comic books and films make it out to be; can he hear every single thought that pops into his mind, or are his memories and retained knowledge also free for browsing?

"Just the most prominent thoughts," The words come to Phil and he looks up to see that Dantaeius is eyeing him curiously. He pauses, as if trying to find the best way to frame his description. "Anything you project, that is currently at the forefront of your mind, I can hear. The memories, knowledge, that's all locked away for your accessing, but as soon as you do, it is shared."

Phil blushes. At these words, all the most terrible and embarrassing memories he has come rushing to mind.

"Oh god, don't- please don't listen right now okay?" His blush spreads furiously and Dantaeius just giggles again, slick smile almost teasing Phil through the glass.

"Anything you don't want me to hear, don't pay it attention and it will pass. The second you engage with a thought and question or provoke it, it screams across the room." His language is so communicative and eloquent, surely there is some equivalent of school for his people that taught him to organise and express so clearly.

"Listen, Danteu- erm, Dan-"

"Dan?" The questioning tone seems merely inquisitive, but his face is caught up in consternation.

"Can I call you that? It's like, a nickname, do you have those?" Apparently not, as indicated with a shake of the head. It's amazing how nature always manages to surprise him. Here he is, having a conversation with a merman who understands cognition and humour but has no concept of abbreviated names.

"Your name is long and tricky, no offense! But I'm just going to call you Dan, if that's okay." Dan makes no further protest, but continues to look confused, as if of everything happening, a nickname is the most incomprehensible aspect.

"How did you get here? I'm sure it must have been hard otherwise this wouldn't be the first time we'd have seen mermaids." He coughs, correcting himself, "Mermen, I mean!"

"You and the others do seem to have a predisposition to naming me as female," but Dan's teasing is gentle and he doesn't pause for an apology or explanation, the words just continue to flow into Phil's mind, and he closes his eyes a little as he listens, "We are certainly not an adventurous people, definitely not in the past few centuries as there have been more and more invasions in our land. We retreated, further and further into trenches, finding new homes in the coves there. They shelter us, and there is food, safety, comfort."

These words come with a warm, familiar sensation, that Phil can almost physically sense as it arrives. To say that Dan's words are equal to human speech is inequitable; there is far more sensory accompaniment that could be possible through speech and facial expression. It's almost as if Phil can feel the emotional weight of Dan's thoughts, as if his sense of attachment or attraction to the thoughts are transmitted along with the words.

Dan doesn't stop, the concepts coming in waves, not quite coherently. "I don't think it's a long term solution, the crafts that come down to investigate are only coming deeper and deeper- it's really a matter of luck rather than skill that we have avoided detection for so long – given that we can go much deeper, and survive, it's insanity to settle so close to the surface and just wait for detection-" His thoughts are a little harried, concern and frustration bubbling through. "I didn't even venture that far from our cove, where my people are, I just wanted to see if there was somewhere not too far down where we could start to move, or at least investigate food sources- I didn't even tell anyone I was going; I had no idea that you would be able to get down that far."

Phil doesn't have a response, not in words at least, to so much information all at once. It doesn't really call for an apology or explanation, because Dan seems to understand that humans were interested in collecting and understanding his people, hence the need to stay hidden.

There is a silence that passes between them, though not uncomfortably so. Dan paces, in his own way, kicking mindlessly around the confined tank. Watching him move, Phil can only imagine how much he must be yearning for the open sea. Watching as Dan's tail bends and flicks against the water, propelling him forward, Phil's eyes trail upwards to his humanoid torso and face. Those impossibly long, narrow arms and torso- how do they not freeze off in the deep sea temperatures? They look so similar to human arms, but there's something about those rippling muscles that doesn't quite match anatomically, as well as the strange skin, it's colour and texture unimaginably beguiling. Phil follows the pale, blue contours up, past the softly flapping gills, up to that strong chin and fascinating face.

It's here that he finds the connection. Here, he can see the pain and longing, the searching eyes and worried brow. For someone who didn't always get on well with people, the expressions of humans has never been a mystery to Phil. Perhaps that was part of the issue- people never seemed to appreciate his knowledge of their concerns. Marine life is somewhat easier, in that regard. It always seems so keen to share its secrets, it's treasures and wonders, with Phil. Only moments of talking to Dan have passed and he already feels like he knows him better than many of the humans with whom he shares a lab. There's still so much he wants to ask, so much curiosity unsatisfied scientifically- but, as he glances up at Dan, who has turned obliquely through the water, to face Phil in turn, he can happily smile up at him, and receives a friendly gaze in return.

"I know you can't possibly have an answer to this," starts Phil, "Unless you've got underwater MRI down there, but how does thermoregulation of the two halves of your body work? I mean, unless you've got a severely different lipid structure to humans, there's no way-"

"Whom on earth are you talking to?" The woman in charge has returned, her crisp voice sounding down from the observation platform up high. Phil spins on the spot, turning up to meet her stern gaze as he hears Dan begin to swim about in the tank, his movements through the water sounding hurried and agitated.

"Myself?" Phil offers, a tone of ridicule added for good measure. "Can I help you?"

Though the cameras had been blinking away silently in all corners of the room, Phil had mostly forgotten they were being observed. He could only hope that his exchanges with Dan weren't loud enough for any auditory recording devices to pick up.

"I just came to check up on you." She steps forward, resting two pointed elbows on the railing. "Have you been able to communicate with it at all? If you're having no more progress camping out here in the dark for an hour, then I'm rather inclined to let Ty come back in. At least we were seeing a reaction there."

Stay calm Dan, Phil thinks, as hard as he can, only hoping that Dan can hear him. He doesn't want her words to cause any reaction, lest they work out just how much Dan can understand what they say. But Dan doesn't alter, continuing to swim around the tank listlessly.

That's all good and well, but Phil is having some issues staying calm himself. He hadn't realised it had been an hour since they'd been left alone. Something about the way she calls Dan 'it' stings a little more than perhaps it should, but Phil does his best not to appear panicked and think of some way to get her to leave.

"Progress? Yes, lots of progress!" Phil grins, hard, trying to think of something believable but not interesting enough to be problematic. His eyes spot a pile of textbooks on a desk nearby. "Clearly he is more intelligent than we first thought, I've been able to teach him to respond with either positive or negative affect to certain stimulus."

She gives him a long stare, but says nothing, so Phil steps over to the desk and picks up one of the text books, flicking through it trying to find the pictures he wants.

"You have?" Dan's voice in his mind is amused, but short. His concern is not unwarranted. Phil tries again to focus his thoughts clearly- I'm sorry, it's all I can think of for now, just go with it okay? If they think you're as smart as you clearly are then they might try get some brain imaging or give up and go for a full vivisection and this seems safest- and as he turns around, walking back to the tank, Dan swims over to the glass, as if awaiting instruction. So far, so good.

Phil clears his throat, trying his best to sound autocratic.

"We have been working on a system of one tap for good, two taps for bad." He speaks clearly enough for both Dan and his observer to hear, "Working of the stimuli of other marine creatures in the area he was found that may have antagonistic or collaborative relationships with his species."

"So you think there are more of these kind of creatures?" She questions, angling her head slightly, "As opposed to a freak accident of nature, or perhaps scientific creation."

Phil hears a snort of derision, 'I'll show you what freak accidents look like-" and has to stifle a chuckle, holding up a picture of a killer whale.

"What we would assume to be an aggressor to his kind, that hunts similar species in the area, gives us…" Phil is rewarded by the deep thud of Dan beating his fist against the glass, twice. With a sigh of relief, thanking Dan silently for playing along with this charade, Phil flicks through the pages until he finds a picture of some sea cucumbers and holds it up to the glass.

This time there's a pause, and Phil watches his breath fogging up the glass as Dan's face contorts, indecisive, before finally yielding to a single knock on the glass. Phil doesn't wait to find out what the delay was, but turns back to face the woman, holding up the picture for her to see.

"The harmless sea cucumber gets a positive affect, the predator gives us a negative one. While it's only a beginning, clearly he has a higher cognitive function that most other sea creatures, as well as an alarmingly swift ability to observe and replicate. It's certainly worth further analysis, don't you think?"

She considers for a moment, and then nods. "It certainly is. Very well, continue with your work then Dr. Lester, and if there are any significant progressions or findings of note, tell the guards outside to contact me- Professor Desabres." Then she's gone, as silently and swiftly as she arrived.

Phil lets out a long sigh, spinning on the spot to see Dan watching him, drifting slightly with crossed arms. He looks a little irritated, but it's difficult to tell.

"What? I'm sorry, okay; I didn't know what else to do!" He shakes his head, tossing down the textbook, "I'm surprised she bought that, but it's enough to keep you here for now, which is best, isn't it?" He's rambling, the words tumbling over each other, but Dan's expression stays perturbed. A moment later, his reasoning comes floating through Phil's mind, "But those 'sea cucumbers' are so frustrating! Do you know how difficult it is to stop them from colonising our coves? And they always manage to eat the supplies before celebrations!"

He looks so bothered that Phil can't help let out a little giggle, which devolves swiftly into full on laughter, gesturing wildly with one hand, unable to explain why, out of everything, he cannot deal with a merman being irritated by a sea cucumber.