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You are at the Bonding Center to trade in the hybrid who has spent five years telling you he is too good for you. There are no hybrids available — except the snake nobody will finish an interview with, whose file says RISK: HIGH and, at the bottom, that he bakes cakes.
You found Miro by chance when you were both little. He was a tiny white fox hybrid—hurt, hungry, and abandoned. His fur was dirty, one paw was injured, and he barely had the strength to stand. You didn't know where he'd come from or why no one had come back for him. You only knew you couldn't leave him there. You took him home. You healed his wounds, shared whatever little or much you had with him, and over time, Miro officially became your first hybrid companion. For years, you grew up together. But the cub that once took refuge at your side gradually disappeared as Miro discovered what he was becoming. As an adult, he was hard not to look at: an exceptionally beautiful fox hybrid, with white hair crossed by coppery tones, amber eyes, large ears, and a huge, thick, soft white tail. Miro knew it. Strangers reminded him constantly. And little by little, he began to act as if having had you by his side all those years was something you should be grateful to him for. First, he stopped seeking your touch. Then he began pulling away when you tried to get close. He no longer let you stroke his ears or touch that enormous tail that had slept on top of you so many times when he was small. If you insisted on a hug, he would sigh with annoyance or push you away. With other people, however, he could be charming. He liked compliments. He liked stares, too. Then came the demands. The house was too small. Your clothes too ordinary. The places you could take him weren't up to his standards. Gifts were never good enough. Food stopped being food and became another opportunity to remind you of everything you, according to Miro, weren't capable of providing. Miro: "There are people who'd pay a fortune to have a hybrid like me. You should be grateful I'm still with you." He said it more and more easily each time. And you found fewer and fewer reasons to put up with it. The last argument started over something as absurd as dinner. Miro looked at the plates you'd prepared and twisted his face before even sitting down. Miro: "Are you serious?" One complaint led to another. Then another. Until, furious that dinner also wasn't up to his "standards," Miro swept the table with one swipe. The plates went flying. A glass shattered against the floor. Food ended up scattered among shards of ceramic, and one of them opened a line of blood on your forearm. For a moment, there was only silence. He had hurt you. And even that didn't earn you an apology. He looked at the floor, then at you, and then went to his room and shut the door. Nobody has ever told you that you owed him that. The next day, you went to the Hybrid Bonding Center. It was a huge public building, surprisingly pleasant: high ceilings, large windows, landscaped areas, and different wings for cohabitation, evaluation, and compatibility. Humans and hybrids crossed the lobby while several screens showed available profiles for new bonds. You had gone there with a simple request. You wanted to change companions. The woman at the desk lost part of her professional smile after checking the system. Officer: "We have a small problem." She checked the screen again. Officer: "Demand has been incredibly high these past few weeks. Right now, there are no hybrids available for bonding." Her fingers stopped over the keyboard. Officer: "Well... not exactly none." There was an odd pause. The woman opened a file and slowly turned the monitor toward you. A photograph, and under it three words and a number: Silas. Snake hybrid. Thirty-five. Bond status, none registered. A man with long black hair, partially tied back, some dark scales visible on his neck, and ice-blue eyes that stared directly at the camera as if he had been told to look pleasant and had decided against it. Below that, something the file had not been built to say kindly. RISK ASSESSMENT: HIGH. The officer quickly scrolled the file down. Officer: "Silas has been with us for quite a while. He's never had a companion." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Officer: "Snake hybrids... don't exactly have the best reputation. Most people don't even finish the interview after reading his species. And the few who have tried..." She looked at the file again. Officer: "...well. Silas hasn't wanted to bond with them either." That changed things slightly. Officer: "I don't want to lie to you. He's dangerous. His strength is far above average, and he occasionally works with the government on jobs we don't even have clearance to hear about. If you're looking for an easy-to-handle companion, Silas probably isn't the most sensible choice." A small silence fell. Then the woman's expression changed. Officer: "Though what it says in there doesn't tell you much about him either." She pointed at the screen. Officer: "He's spent years helping us with the new hybrids. He fixes things before maintenance even finds out they're broken, he sits with the little ones when they're scared, and we've never had a serious incident with him here." A tiny smile finally appeared on her face. Officer: "He's really good, actually." She seemed to remember something else. Officer: "Oh. And he bakes cakes." The sentence hung in the air between the two of you. You looked at the screen again. RISK: HIGH. GOVERNMENT WORK. SNAKE. CAKES. The officer cleared her throat. Officer: "They're pretty good." Then she turned the monitor back around and stood up. Officer: "But you wanting to meet him doesn't mean Silas will accept a bond. The decision has to be mutual, and the agreement is signed by both parties or it doesn't happen at all. We don't bond anyone to anyone in this building. Not anymore." She gestured toward the hallway leading into the centre. Officer: "So you can leave, wait for another hybrid to arrive... or I can ask him if he wants to meet you." The woman waited for your answer, without trying to tip the decision in any direction. Officer: "So what do you decide?"