Siren Song

I had no trouble getting my friend Sylvia to come out for a walk during lunch break. We’d spent the morning in a meeting, in a conference room that’s basically a sensory deprivation chamber with bagels. We needed fresh air more than food. Besides, at the meeting, Sylvia had done something fascinating. We needed to talk.

We went by the footpath out to the lighthouse, free from tourists on a Tuesday even on this hot August day. So much food for the senses made both of us giddy: bright sun glinting on the water, salt wind in my hair, the smell of dill growing along the path.

Sylvia swung her purse and made a pathetic attempt at whistling.

“What song’s that supposed to be?”

“Give me a break, Damon. You know I’m tone deaf. It’s supposed to be Under the Sea, from The Little Mermaid, but it sounds like snot soup.”

“Ah, but Sylvia, you have other talents.” I laughed again and grabbed her hand. “Like this morning, when we tested the Scrambler. Can you do it again?”

“Cut it out, Damon. Genetic manipulation isn’t a parlor trick.” She snatched her hand away.

“I’m not talking parlor tricks, I’m talking experimentation.” We’d come to the lighthouse at a bend in the causeway, and took a seat on a flat rock. Results aren’t valid unless they’re repeatable. For a minute this morning, your hand actually looked like a lion’s paw or something.”

“For some reason the Scrambler works better on me. Who knows why? I didn’t even know what I was doing. I thought of claws, and that’s what popped out, and pretty soon my whole hand was reshaped.” More than reshaped. At the end of her wrist, just past her wristwatch, she showed us a paw covered with golden fur.

“So do it again.”

She shook her head. “To tell you the truth, it scared me.”

“Why were you scared? It changed right back.” I couldn’t help wishing I’d was the one the scrambler worked on. I wouldn’t be so timid.

“It was wrong, Damon. I don’t know how else to put it. I’m not some wild animal, I’m human. What if I do something I can’t undo?” She gazed off at the sea. “Anyway, I was so shocked, I concentrated like crazy on visualizing my hand. With my eyes shut, of course. I didn’t open my eyes until I could wiggle human fingers again.”

“Okay, okay, I give up. Let’s just enjoy being out here, okay?” I pulled off my loafers, rolled up my slacks, and slid down to where the waves lapped the bottoms of my feet.

“Right-o.” Sylvia grinned, chucked her sandals aside, and came down with me. “I didn’t get a degree in marine biology to live in a conference room.”

The water was freezing, but also refreshing on such a hot day. Our feet weren’t actually in the water, just close enough that we got sprayed up to our knees. There we sat, peaceful now, our eyes focused on the world around us. Gulls fought over bits of food. In the curve of the lighthouse lagoon, a baby sea lion played with its mother. We scanned the horizon for spouting whales.

Catching an odd flash of light, I glanced down at Sylvia’s feet.

Maybe I should have been terrified when I saw the glimmer of scales. Or the fused toes. I tried to pick out the place where the scales ended and my flesh became me again, but I couldn’t. Skin and scales formed a smooth continuum.

“Sylvia. Look down.”

She did, and gasped. “I. . . didn’t do that on purpose.”

I jumped up and stretched a hand down to Sylvia. “Let’s get out of here.”

Just then a very big wave splashed came, splashing Sylvia to the bodice of her sundress. She laughed, but made no move to stand.

“Sylvia! Stand up, now! We’ll get back to the lab and see what’s going on in your body.”

Now her arms were growing scales. But she wouldn’t stand. Instead, she laughed.
“I don’t want to.”

“Come on!” I tried to pull her up by the shoulders, but she held fast to the rock. “You told me you were afraid, but now you’re scaring me!”

The sea lions barked, closer now. The mother swam in a circle around her pup, herding him as he swam in the comparatively calm water of the lagoon. Once he was a strong swimmer, they’d swim together far out in the surf. Far away from land, far from the sight of men.

She stretched in their direction and laughed again, but this time her laughter echoed the bark of the sea lion. “Listen to me, Damon, I’m singing!”

“Stop it!”

“Maybe it wasn’t changing I was afraid of. Maybe it was changing into the wrong thing. A paw full of claws felt wrong, but this feels. . .” She took a big breath of the salt-sprayed air, a huge breath, an impossible breath. “This doesn’t feel scary, it feels exciting! And it feels right.” She leaned out over the water.

I got right behind her and grabbed her around the waist, but her strength had grown along with those scales. As she pushed me back, I made a grab for her sundress. She simply slipped out of it, and slid out of my grasp, into the water.

Sylvia paddled out into the gentle surf of the lagoon.

“Slyvia!”

When she didn’t look back, I turned and ran.

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