What the Fish Mouth Said

Culture needed to be passed on to the next generation. During the Renaissance, Florence and Venice had been two republics; now everyone was Italian. This research vessel conducting surveys in Venetian waters, the Michelangelo, belonged to the University of Florence. Besides salvaging shipwrecks, it had a "brother," the Plato, which conducted anthropological research on Lazzaretto Island.

This was an ancient city, with much knowledge waiting to be explored and discovered. Some funding was allocated through donations from the Venice Archaeological Club to establish academic summer camps in architecture, oceanography, history, fine arts, anthropology, and more, making summers colorful and varied for children.

The club members all looked like good people, with Italian cheerfulness and hospitality. There was no sign at all that any of them might be serpents from Eden.

"Who are these people?" asked a balding middle-aged man with a beer belly.

"The person I told you I'd bring last time—this is her." Gianluca could barely conceal his excitement as he presented Monica to him.

"Oh, hello, hello," the man said. "I'm Diego Vecchio, captain of this vessel. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, Captain. This is my cousin, and these two are Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Britain. They're very fond of Venetian culture."

"Oh, welcome. Come aboard," Vecchio said cheerfully. "We're scanning the seabed with sonar."

Pomona looked over the research vessel. Its deck was painted green, and it had a huge mechanical arm. Alessandro was securing the Hurricane with cables alongside the sailors. By comparison, the Michelangelo was not much bigger.

There was a conference room aboard, and outside its windows lay the Adriatic Sea, glittering under the sun. It looked beautiful and calm, with no sign whatsoever of any monstrous crimes taking place.

According to a Mermaid who could speak human language, fish in the Western