The Mermaid Flu Ch 03

"And we're live in 5, 4, 3..." The camerawoman mouthed the last two numbers as she pointed at the anchors pretending to shuffle their papers as the nightly broadcast begun.

"Welcome back to UTC Nightly, I'm Miranda Paxton."

"And I'm Phoebe Benson."

"And with extreme reluctance, we are back in the studio to bring you today's news. Every other newscaster in the country is allowed to work at home with their boring backgrounds and scattered important books they have pretended they've read. Instead, Phoebe, and I are here despite it being a global pandemic. Since they are so focused on doing this show live, Phoebe and I have committed to ignoring the teleprompter whenever we see fit. Right, Phoebe?"

"Microwave applesauce."

"That definitely wasn't on the screen. What's on the screen now is 'STAY ON SCRIPT.' Fine. Since its emergence two weeks ago, trace testing for the mermaid flu has been impossible to track. The speed of infection and disinfection has left scientists unable to know at any given moment how many women are infected around the globe. CDC has continued its recommendation to assume that every woman you see is infected and to plan accordingly. So the CDC is saying to leave women alone, a request rarely ever listened to so I'm sure that will go fine."

"Thanks Miranda. The WHO has been put under intense criticism worldwide for missing their public deadline for developing tracing and prevention protocols. Female world leaders have been put in isolation but this is not a sustainable solution. More meetings are being conducted on a video conference website called Zoom. As this is the year 2019, participation on this site has staggered, finding many of the older generation struggling to unmute themselves.

Over the past few days, there has been a growing community actually encouraging infestation. Research has not been verified, but the group, Fishy Fish, believes that being infected can cause cures to previously incurable STDs, breast cancer, and vaginal dryness. Ironically, they believe this flu will be seen as the new HPV where, quote, 'all the cool people have had it.' There is currently no evidence for any of their claims."

Miranda regained the camera's attention. "Thank you, Phoebe. We have in the studio today a local scientist who has been working on possible side-effects of the mermaid flu. Dr. Cleo Neville, welcome and I'm sorry our awful network wouldn't let you set up a camera in your home."

"Um. Hi, first of all, I'm not just a local scientist. I have taught in Oxford. Also, we're in Chicago. Local is a big deal."

"Dr. Neville. First of all, how do you respond to the claims by Fishy Fish. Are there physical benefits to having the mermaid flu?"

"Thanks Phoebe."

"I'm Miranda."

"Wow, I'm sorry. There's a weird lack of description going on so I lost track of you all."

"We look very different. Phoebe is Pakistani-American. I look like Elizabeth Debicki if she was taller."

"I know, I'm so sorry. And obviously you know what I look like because you're looking at me. But the truth of the matter is, there is just so much we don't know about the mermaid flu. A month ago we didn't think mermaids could exist in our reality and now fashion has dramatically altered to accommodate an emerging tail. Studies have proven difficult because subjects are unreliable. The lustful nature of the flu means it's not easy for subjects to stay put long enough to observe. Also since the seemingly 48 hour time frame of the flu, it's not a long enough spectrum to really assign value to trends."

"Why do you say seemingly, doctor?"

"I mean...I don't want to cause a crisis but I don't think the flu actually leaves your system, even if you have passed it along. The comparison to HPV may be apt. It doesn't seem to expel from your system, but lies dormant."

"Does this mean it can be reactivated?"

"It's too early to know. The biggest issue with the research among scientists is that this doesn't seem like science. It seems closer to magic like we've read in novels, which is discouraging because...nobody knows how magic works. It's magic. I don't even think most fantasy writers know how the internal logic of their magic works because they're making it up as they go along. Whatever they write is canon, it doesn't need to go through any review board. That said, I do think I've discovered something where the flu does appear to have a reaction to specific soundwaves."

"What kind of reaction?"

"Certain cells are demonstrating a small metamorphosis that doesn't occur in non-infected participants. It's early days but it may prove that there could be a second wave of side effects with this flu, no pun intended."

"What pun?"

"Um. Wave, I guess."

"Are mermaids known for riding waves?"

"Just seemed ocean based, I guess."

"Did you bring this sound with you?"

"Uh, yes certain samples are on my phone."

"Would you like to play it on the air?"

"That seems incredibly unethical. I'm not going to broadcast an experimental catalyst."

"I have headphones." Miranda lifted up some Bose headphones that were under the newsdesk.

"I still don't think that's—have you had the flu previously?"

"It is UTC HR policy that no employee has to answer that question. Same HR that thinks disinfectant costs should come out of anchor's paychecks."

"Yeah, but this only affects—"

The camera cut to Phoebe. "When we get back, Miranda will listen to Dr. Neville's new recording and report back on her findings. Stay tuned."

"And we're out," said the camerawoman. "Two minutes."

The makeup crew quickly started powdering Miranda and Dr. Cleo as they were rushed to a different part of the set. Dr. Neville continued to protest. "Why are we doing this? None of this has been properly tested, especially not on a full human subject."

Miranda leaned over to Dr. Cleo as they both sat in their personal comfier chairs without a desk in front of them. "This entire industry is on the brink of disaster. Even as I keep insulting our network on live TV, that is the only thing creating ratings. We live in a world where people need up-to-date scientific information but they only want to watch the shitshow of daily briefings. I need to keep building my own clout so I can get out of this toxic station and go independent. I need segments that go viral. Best case scenario, I regrow a few scales. Worst case scenario, I can tell viewers what it sounds like and then make up a feeling I had deep inside or something. Either way, nobody else has an audio reaction so they're going to click the tweet to see if it's anything."

Dr. Cleo sighed. "Can I have you sign a waiver or something?"

"Do you have a wavier for me to sign?"

"No."

"Well here we are then."

The floor producer yelled, "Live in 10."

Miranda whispered, "Cue it up, Doctor." She paused, collected herself and put back on her TV face. "Welcome back, we have returned with Dr. Neville. She is here with a possibly groundbreaking new experiment that can lead to a new understanding of the mermaid flu. It is an audio clip that, if successful, can determine if the mermaid flu stays in the system beyond the recognized 48 hours."

"I mean...sure."

"I'm ready when you are doctor. I am very excited to be part of your innovative research."

"Okay, just put on your headphones. Good, now let me know if this is too loud—actually, I have no idea how loud it's supposed to be. Are you ready?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Here goes something." Like Dr. Frankenstein before her, Dr. Neville clicked the button on her phone and winced as she feared the worst.

Miranda closed her eyes like she was pretending to analyze a sip of overpriced wine. Suddenly her eyes burst open and then quickly closed as if to maintain the illusion of the original sense of calm.

"What are you feeling?"

"It is not what I expected. It's an almost sweet sound, like something from a music box. It's just also—WOW—it's just also very" Suddenly, no sound was coming out of Miranda's mouth. Her lips were moving but it was like she was on mute.

"Miranda? Miranda?" Dr. Neville tried to lean over to grab the headphones, but Miranda slapped her hands away. Miranda held her hands to the headphones desperate to hear every last sound. Dr. Cleo tried to turn off the recording on her phone but it wouldn't work. Miranda kept sinking lower in her chair, her breathing building. Gripping harder onto the headphones, Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, silently screaming while her whole body spasmed as she thrust her pelvis forward.

After her climax, she started to calm down, returned to breathing normally. But as she was getting herself back into the chair, her hips started wildly flipping side to side, completely out of her control. Gone was her face of ecstasy, but now of pure terror. Her cries for help couldn't be heard as she gripped the chair arms in an attempt to not hurt herself.

Rip! Miranda's black underwear ripped as a thick green scaled tail instantly emerged as if it had to burst out of her. The speed in which her feet smashed together decimated her shoes. Miranda's eyes were giant as she looked at her giant mermaid tail as she regained control of her body. Her eyes were watering in embarrassment and confusion.

She lowered her headphones about to brace the world again when her head jerked slightly. It seemed like she had the hiccups or was about to burp. After another small jerk, she put her hand to her mouth. Another jerk, bigger this time, and she put both of her hands to her mouth and held as tight as she could. She couldn't hold it in. But instead of vomit, a song burst out of her mouth.

Sounding almost—but for copyright reasons, not quite—like Ariel's singing from The Little Mermaid. Miranda had no control as the song continued until it decided to end.

Upon hearing the singing, four women on the studio floor started to shake. A line producer was standing until she suddenly fell on her ass. Two camerawomen accidentally pulled the camera to the ceiling as she held on as they lost their footing. Phoebe tried to find some sort of balance as she had her hands on her desk. All of them, within a matter of seconds, found themselves in the throughs of orgasm with mermaid tails.

Dr. Cleo remained fully human as were two other women in the studio. Up in the booth, none of them could hear the singing through the recording equipment so they were unaffected. As were the millions of other viewers. All they heard was continued silence from Miranda and euphoric screams from off screen.

Desperately the camera went back to Phoebe, still breathing heavily at the desk. "And we'll be right back."