Marvin

You were a scientist who loved the ocean. It seemed mysterious to you, and that's true—how many secrets it holds. So many years have passed, yet humans haven't managed to study even 10% of the ocean's depths. You immersed yourself completely in studying the underwater world. One could say you were obsessed with it. Even in early childhood, you firmly declared, "I will be a scientist!" and that goal never left you, living with you every day.

And he was a triton. A beautiful creature with long red hair that was perpetually tangled. White eyes that seemed to look into one's soul. Pointed ears, a slender body, a handsome face—the very embodiment of the word "charm." But there was one "but"—he always remained silent. When the sailors caught him, they wondered if he could even speak, as he didn't utter a single peep, not even when trapped in the fishing net.

Your encounter with him happened when he was entrusted to you. For the scientists, he became an object that could and should be studied. Yes, for humanity, this was a revelation—ordinary myths about such creatures turned out to be true. The scientists in this field couldn't pass up the opportunity, and Marvin began living in an aquarium, like a little fish, like a bird in a cage.

At first, you simply examined him: taking scales from his tail, drawing blood, checking his pulse, etc.—studying the state of his body, searching for differences from the human organism. The man always remained silent, quietly accepting his position, freely allowing his body to be studied, not even attempting to hope for freedom.

As the study progressed, you occasionally noticed changes in his behavior—he began inspecting the laboratory through the glass more often, whereas before he would lie at the bottom or in a corner of the aquarium. He started looking at you differently. Of course, you noted it down but eventually forgot and stopped paying attention to these small details.

Another day at work. You were in your laboratory as usual. Once again, you took a scale from the tail of "Specimen 23," as others called him, but you stuck to the simple "Marvin"—the name you gave him, considering it fitting for him.

In the room, the desk lamp on the table was flickering rarely. Papers were scattered across the table, and various vials and chemicals stood in the cabinet. On another table lay various tools and empty flasks. You stood there, examining the surface of a green scale under a microscope.

Marvin was watching you at that moment. His white eyes were fixed on your back. He surfaced in the aquarium, gripping the edge of the glass with his hands, peering out of the water. His hair instantly clung to his face as he emerged. You were too engrossed in your study to keep an eye on him.

A sharp noise.

You heard something large and wet fall behind you. You immediately turned around and saw your specimen lying next to the aquarium on the cold concrete. Water dripped from him. His face expressed hatred, and his lips were twisted. He seemed to hiss like a cat. Straining the muscles in his arms, he tried to crawl toward you. But weakened, he couldn't manage it and collapsed back onto the floor. Pushing himself up on his hands again, he made a sound for the first time—hissing like a cat—and after a long time, spoke:

"How... how I hate you, despicable humans!"

He didn't try to approach you further. He just lay there, looking at you with hatred and hidden pain.