Difference Of Cries

Genetically modified Atlantic Cod becomes an ethical dilemma.

Check-in 532
Evening passes quickly in my sleep. In the new morning, the cries begin anew. I swim with new strength. My fins undulate, trembling in their eagerness. Perhaps, in the lateness of day, they will give the other cries, that make my work desirable.
The cries are not real. I feel myself lifted from the water.
"Hey, Rahna! This one's different! He's fighting me! Is that in his programming?"
He holds me gently and strokes my fins. The sensation is pleasant. I put away my sharp fin.
"He didn't hurt you. Look at these readings! These changes in his, uh, her brain here...and here. They saw this at the North Bank.They said the young ones work harder and faster."

Check-in 533
Time to visit my human keepers. One picks me up with a smile. I smile back. He is dark skinned, and laughs. "Hey, Rahna! Did you ever see a fish smile?"
The lady is tanned with brown eyes. She frowns. "You been out in the sun too long, Dyson! Let me see-her. What are you? You look like an Atlantic Cod, but-c'mon, smile for me, Girl! That's it!"
I did not understand her confusion, but I smile again. She holds up her phone and I see myself. My face changed in these past few months! I see, not a fish face, but eyes closer to the front, and lips that are soft and can smile. My scales are still golden and pretty. My face still resembles a cod, long and vertically oval.
"Hey, I'm gonna call Base. They are not gonna believe this! Look in her bag. She has artifacts from The Graveyard Of The Atlantic. Old coins, a spoon, and look at these crab specimens! Let's put them in the tank--uh--"
Not my pets! I draw out my sharp fin.
"Oh, ok, I see, dat's your friends. You can keep 'em. I'll just take the other stuff. Dat all right wid' you?"
I nod, and her brown eyes widen.