Sex Education Ch. 01

To any diehard Robotech/Macross purists who may be reading this, my apologies. To those who have seen Macross, it is likely rather evident that I have not. To those unfamiliar with either Robotech or Macross, this story may not necessarily make much sense.

This tale occurs within the two-year period between the near-destruction of Earth and the discovery of flowers growing outside the Natural Recovery Planning Zone (between Episodes 27 and 28 of Robotech).

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It took a long time for me to finally become comfortable with the idea of aliens living amongst us. Just the undeniable fact that Humans are not the only intelligent life form in the universe was initially hard to swallow... but then to have them first attacking my planet and then living peacefully (mostly) in my own town made it sometimes difficult to step out of the apartment in the morning.

Yes, Zentraedi looked almost identical to Humans. There had been numerous newspaper and magazine articles and television broadcasts providing the evidence that Zentraedi DNA almost exactly matched Human DNA. The largest differences between Zentraedi and Humans were culture and size.

Fortunately, the Zentraedi living on Earth have almost all become "micronized," which clearly allows them to live amongst us Humans without scaring us all away with their massive heights. The Zentraedi males also seem to be on average more muscular than Human males, while the females tend to have almost flawless figures worthy of deep dangerous envy.

Perhaps because no official "explanations" have been given to the general public, my friends and I have often wondered: What would it be like to have sex with a Zentraedi? After all, the well-known Max and Miriya Sterling had clearly had sex at least once, resulting in a beautiful a baby girl -- the first-ever baby of a Human/alien couple -- who is probably the second-most popular person on the planet -- second only to Lynn Minmei.

Lynn Minmei... essentially the reason many of the warlike Zentraedi put down their arms and embraced us Humans. Her music is still heard almost all the time: radio, stores, elevators, television specials. To me, hearing her voice so much is overkill, but it does seem to help keep the Zentraedi -- especially the males -- rather calm and peaceful.

I have never had the opportunity to travel -- the war with the Zentraedi effectively negated any opportunities for travel for us mundane civilians -- but I would image that for the Zentraedi, living amongst Humans must be similar to what I might experience if I were to move to, say, Paris. My town must also look similar to much of Europe in the immediate aftermath of World War II: many partially- and completely-destroyed buildings, demolition crews hauling away the destruction while many construction crews repaired the best of the surviving buildings and erected new stores and offices and apartments and houses.

Unfortunately, the aftermath of the war created a lot of jobs, including mine. I worked in the newly-renamed Human & Zentraedi Resources position for a demolition company on the southern shore of the Great Lakes. For months, our "office" was a pair of large trailers with one side sliced off from each and welded together. It was a depressing place, with two of its three windows looking out directly at the northern edge of the town, in the half-mile stretch of destruction leading to the shoreline. As I interviewed potential workers, I always sat with my back to that depressing landscape so that it would not affect me (as much), but that meant that the interviewees had to look at what they would be cleaning up and clearing away.

For the micronized Zentraedi who interviewed with me (the company would not hire any full-size Zentraedi, citing an inability to control them if they became too aggressive), it was a particularly harrowing experience to sit for up to thirty minutes looking at the remnants of what their attacks had caused to the planet they now wished to call Home. Some of them even silently wept, their eyes fixated upon the depressing view.

Kyrl truly touched me. He wept openly, his muscular body trembling just slightly, blushing as had so many other Zentraedi interviewees because it was the first time he had ever cried. When I asked him why he felt we should hire him, he answered just like almost all the other Zentraedi: "This is a way I can right the wrongs I have done in battle."

But there was something more with him. The Zentraedi as a species (or is it race? I can never remember...) had almost no emotions other than aggression until they came into contact with us Humans. The songs of Lynn Minmei seemed to unlock the non-aggressive emotions deep within them, yet they still generally held the same cold, distant expression in their eyes.

Kyrl, however, had very expressive eyes. When other interviewees would weep while looking out the window, their eyes were distant, cold, a final barrier to protect their minds from the sadness and inner anguish they were experiencing. Yet Kyrl had eyes which displayed the sadness and the anguish and also his desire to do what he could to right the wrongs he had committed in battle.

I fast-tracked him, and the next morning, as I arrived at the makeshift office, he was awaiting me so he could sign the final paperwork which would ensure his pay and allow him to begin working.

Over the next few weeks, Kyrl and I became friends. It began with a simple greeting in the morning, and a kindly goodbye at the end of the day. It happened that when I needed to accompany the boss to a demolition site, Kyrl came with us as a bus accident caused him to be late to work that day, and he worked at the site the boss needed to visit. Someone from the military accompanied us as well and sat in the front passenger seat, relegating Kyrl to the back seat of the car with me, and as the boss and the military man spoke amongst themselves, I looked into Kyrl's eyes and once again saw the emotions deep within him.

Out of pity for him more than anything else, I placed a hand upon his thigh. There was nothing untoward intended in that touch, but from the way he suddenly stiffened, I recognized that I had aroused a new emotion in him.

That Friday, as he signed out and I handed him his pay card for the day, Kyrl winked at me, the first time he had done that, so I was not particularly surprised to find him awaiting me outside as I left for the day.

We walked toward the commercial district, each of us thankful to be away from the negativity which hung over the demolition zone like a contagious plague. Not surprisingly, more of Lynn Minmei's music was being played at several stores and restaurants. Hungry, we shared a small meal together, and he tasted salad for the first time. I spoke about my boring life and he spoke only briefly (and very quietly) about his military background and the difficulties he had in transitioning to a more peaceful existence.

By the time we left the restaurant, I felt I had a better understanding of him, and I felt that, perhaps, he was someone truly worth knowing even better.

"What is that?" Kyrl asked at one point, gesturing across the street.

I looked in that direction, and blushed. "It's... uh..."

"A military secret hidden in the middle of a civilian area?"

"N-n-no." I simply did not know how to explain what a porn shop meant.

"You blush," he noted. "You have been there?"

"Yes, but..."

"Oh, I see. It's a place for females." But then a group of young men entered the shop. "Then again, maybe not..."

"I think the best thing is to..." I almost could not believe my own ears. "...show you."

"Oh. We should go in together?"

It was too late at this point, but I could at least mitigate the embarrassment for us both. "Actually, I have some of their products in my apartment. I can show them to you sometime."

Kyrl nodded. "I would like that."

And all too soon, we ended up standing in front of my apartment building. "Thank you for a good evening," I acknowledged, "but I think it would be best to show you those... products tomorrow."

"That is good," he agreed. "They must be amazing products. You're blushing again."

So I was.