It’s all a bunch of tradition nonsense. Sure, it sounds sweet, but it’s not like humans are transformed by our help. They just keep on crashing oil tankers and catching dolphins in their tuna nets and destroying coral reefs, so why even go through all this shit (confession: human cuss words aren’t all bad)? I just wish I could jump forward to the end, when I get back into the ocean, get named an Elder, and get granted one of the eight powers of the mer.

“There’s growth in doing things for others with zero expectations, Crest. And if the Blue saw something worth saving in our human ancestors all those years ago, isn’t it possible you might see something worth helping up there too? Who knows, perhaps you’ll even decide to become a human yourself.”

“Yeah, right,” I scoff. “Trust me, I will be waiting to dive right back into the ocean as soon as I help the first pathetic sack of bones I find. I will not risk getting stuck on land forever.”

Only one mer didn’t make it back in the last hundred years, and I’m convinced it was all an accident. They probably got trapped in some tank until the magic of the Journey wore off and they were stuck as a human for the rest of their life. Or maybe they didn’t truly help someone. It’s a cruel trick of the Journey. Keep to yourself the whole time, and the punishment is never changing back at the end of your moon cycle.

A humpback whale and her calf drift by, their whalesong high and deep, melancholic and uplifting all at once. I float there and close my eyes, taking in the sound. I won’t be able to hear it for the next few weeks, which feels like a lifetime. All for a stupid tradition to live life among the dirtiest, loudest, most selfish and destructive species this planet has ever known. Yet the Elders act like I should be happy about spending time with them. If I could just shake Elder Kelp before they trigger the Journey magic, I could backtrack and spend a month with the kraken in the Mariana Trench. Then I’d float into Pacifica like, Whew! Humans are the worst. Glad to be back.

I open my eyes and glance around, hoping to see something I could use to distract the Elder and get out of here.

But of course, the old crustacean’s condescending smile is back. “I know you’re thinking of how to get out of this. It is entirely natural to be afraid. But you will be fine, Crest. Or should I say Ross.”

The word makes me cringe. “What is that?”

“Your human name.” Elder Kelp shrugs. “You told me you hated all your options and to pick one for you.”