The perks of opting for a shiny new model included an easy interface and smart AI. It wasn't that different from trying her hand at an unfamiliar video game.

Joystick in hand, Dea slowly maneuvered the Little Angler towards the airlock doors. The massive viewport offered full hundred-and-eighty degree vision, and incorporated augmented reality—should she wish to activate it. The proximity sensors also made it practically bump-proof.

Dea peered over her shoulder at the indigo-clad buoy that was her friend, bobbing on the gentle waves as she spyhopped above the waterline. When their eyes locked, Hima pumped a fist into the air as if they were at the pop rock concert they attended a month back.

A kaleidoscope of thoughts eddied in Dea's head as she returned the gesture with as much confidence as she could muster.

The vehicle droned onward under her hesitant driving, drawn to the titanium doors that shone silver under the LEDs. Her flukes made a repetitive thumping motion while her peduncle shivered in the Angler's pocket of water, which reached up to the level of her waist. Greys dominated her vision, in contrast to the colorful chaos inside.

A merman swam up to her. "Good to go?"

"All good." Dea grinned, struggling to curb her last-minute jitters. "Thanks!"

He proceeded to give her instructions and worked the airlock. The doors growled open, beckoning her into the chamber within. This is it! I'm really doing this!

When the submersible sailed out into the open, a thrill quaked her to the bone. She was now on her own, about to embark on the most daring mission of her life. The rhythmic thudding of her heart seemed to resound in the enclosed space of the craft. You still need to get out of the city, you silly gull! Her grip tightened on the joystick.

The water turned a brighter blue to herald the new day as the Angler advanced towards the main channel that led out of the coral atoll. The warehouse structure of the DSV showroom soon disappeared into the surrounding blandness. Ropes of road markers wormed through the district in a series of overpasses, and vehicles chugged along in free-flowing streams, including a swarm of tuks and motorpods. As she approached a stack interchange, the traffic slowed to a crawl.

Out of the blue, noises of a commotion stole into Dea's ears, though the submersible in front blocked her view of the way ahead.

"Traffic jam detected," the AI piped up, making her jump. "Rerouting advised. Delay time—ten minutes."

"Great," Dea muttered, wondering if it was due to a collision. "Do your thing, bot."

"Command unrecognized. Would you like to search online for—"

"Just reroute! And enable autopilot."

The AI intoned its affirmation, and the Angler soon swerved to a new lane. As the little craft picked up speed, Dea spotted the cause of the hold-up.

It was an anti-human rally.

A thousand protesters swarmed in a tight formation, churning and frothing the water. Waves of animosity radiated out, directed at not just humans, but also the pro-human merpeople they kept calling "mudskippers". The schism was gaping wider each day.

Dea set her jaw and continued on to the channel. It turned out to be a broad opening in the reef, beyond which was the shallows of the insular shelf. Decaying coral walls loomed on either side, interspersed with brutalist architecture, which blended in with the industrial greys of Karmant.

She leveled the submersible next to a checkpoint—one of many modules that jutted out like barnacles. The digital screen next to the window displayed a generic welcome message in stark white. Then a fleet of scanner bots surrounded the vehicle while the droopy-eyed officer on duty scrutinized her from within. The experience brought to mind a turtle at a coral spa, holding still as cleaner fishes buzzed around to peck off parasites and debris.

"Your permit?" the merwoman mumbled after the security scan was complete.

Dea flashed a smile and held it up. A camera rotated and focused, emitting a quiet whir.

"Hm." The woman stifled a yawn and scratched her chin as she observed her computer. "Seems to be in order. Visiting Sector Eleven?"

"Yeah. The Seastar factory—in Star Valley. You know, they make those blades from volcanic glass?" Dea maintained her valiant smile. "I'm doing this project on factory automation and how that's affecting the job market. I'm also pretty into what they're doing—did you know that obsidian blades can be way sharper than metal? Like, the cutting edge is just a couple of nanometers thick—"

"Uhuh. Sounds fun." The woman's eyelids drooped another centimeter as she tapped on her keyboard. "Point your ogi please."

"Oh, okay." Dea hastened to align her ogi with the QR code that popped up on the digital display.

The travel stamp downloaded with a beep. She had twenty-four hours before the permit expired.

"Thank you!" Dea chirped, trying to tone down her excitement, though the merwoman made no response.

Within minutes, she eased the Angler beyond the borders of Calliathron, the home she had known all her life. Excursions to the paddy fields and meadows were commonplace, but this was different. She was going out into the open ocean—this time voluntarily. A tingle of déjà vu made her shiver.

Eventually, coral and construction gave way to rock formations crusted with seaweed. Just when fear tightened its hold on her, golden sunlight slanted down and lightened the waters—as if to allay her worries. The miasma of uncertainty cleared to a tolerable haze. She picked the route to the factory complex.

"Route confirmed," the AI announced in a pleasant tone. "Continue autopilot?"

"Yeah, thanks," Dea said with a shaky sigh.

Time was of the essence. She badly wanted to push the submersible to its maximum velocity, but she knew it wasn't a wise move. The worst possible outcome was getting intercepted for speeding. After all, she was still in Calliathron's territory and well within sonar range. Dea wondered when it would be safe to divert her course.

Her ogi vibrated and intruded upon her train of thought. She started and tapped her earpiece.

"Dea!" Hima bubbled into her ear. "Are you out of the city now?"

"Yeah!"

"Wow." A reverent note entered her friend's voice. "So you'll soon be out of C-Wave range? I can't talk to you?"

Dea's stomach lurched. "Yeah..."

"Just...be careful, okay?"

"I know. I'll—"

Another incoming call flashed on her ogi, its glowing halo pulsing for her attention.

"Weird," Dea murmured, frowning at the caller ID. "Mr. Nudibronk's calling me."

"Hm, maybe Burpy did something again?" Hima wondered out loud.

"Probably. Anyways, I'm off." Dea tried to stem the melancholy that flowed into her voice. "I'll be back before you know it!"

"Okay! Laters."

Dea almost rejected the merman's call before it occurred to her that he might try to get hold of Gramma.

"Hey, Mr. Nudibronk!" she said brightly, bracing herself for a complaint.

"Dea Rhodoreef! You get back home this instant!"

Gramma's angry screech sucked the breath out of Dea as fast as a punctured balloon. She's borrowed Mr. Nudibronk's ogi! Holy sea cow!

"You think you can use this school project to swim off on a day like this?" the old merwoman stormed. "Do you think I was born yesterday? Groupers! You obstinate youngsters should be spanked with a stingray tail! What am I supposed to say to that family? And on top of that, there's—you get back home right now! Do you hear—"

Dea quickly hung up, turned off the ogi and gripped the armrest, willing her heartbeat to return to normal. Let's not think about it now! One thing at a time.

Now that Gramma had already gotten wind of her great escape, a newfound urgency spurred her to action. She unleashed a flurry of taps on the interface, and the Angler jumped forward in a spurt of acceleration.

She whizzed through the expanse of teal, skimming over jagged rock on the seafloor. Flounders, hermit crabs and lobsters scurried away to safety. Several of the benthic critters hid under boulders, covered with a collage of rust-hued algae against the sandy, white sediment.

Barely ten minutes passed before a border patrol motorpod jetted up to her and signaled for her to stop. Her pulse started to race again.

She composed her face and brought the DSV to a hovering position.

"Miss, where are you off to?" a gruff voice asked, distorted under a helmet.

Dea's eyes slid over the chrome contours of the pod, atop which sat a merman in uniform. He peered at her through the viewport, face shield gleaming in the sun.

"Morning, officer." She slapped on her most winning smile. "I'm visiting this factory for a school project."

"Why the hurry?" The merman regarded her sternly. "We don't want any accidents."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Your first time out here?"

Dea nodded.

He hesitated. "Can I see your permit?"

The ogi took a long moment to turn on, making her flukes start tapping again. Then she pulled up the freshly acquired permit and showcased it triumphantly.

Satisfied that all was in order, the policeman waved her on.

Heaving a huge sigh, Dea resumed her journey. She stared at the poor C-Wave signal and squirmed. She was effectively cut off from everyone she knew, and that realization coiled around her, squeezing her to the brink of panic. The haze of doubt thickened and fogged her mind again. Let's not think about it now!

Her course took her past oceanmarks she only knew from oceanography classes. The serene glide of the occasional manta ray or sea turtle provided a temporary distraction.

The slope gradually slanted down to a considerable depth compared to the shallows of the atoll lagoon. The waters changed to a darker shade as if she was reversing time to the wee hours of dawn. The Star Valley, which lay between guyots, was home to a variety of starfish. It was a prime location for industry with its rich mineral deposits and volcanic glass.

When the formidable mountains came within view, she took in a shuddering breath and veered away. Her heart pattered against her ribcage erratically as she keyed in the secret coordinates.

A minute crawled by. She half expected the police to arrive in a blaze of sirens.

No one raced after her in pursuit. The craft glided in the direction of its new destination without a care in the world. She sat frozen while indescribable emotion welled up in her heart. There's no turning back now.

The AI intruded upon her thoughts. "Recharge advised en route."

Dea huffed and set the course to the high seas, where she could recharge and start the diving sequence.

The Little Angler broke away from all authorized sea routes and went rogue.

Location: Turtle Spa

https://youtu.be/GF9OhpPX-lk