a foreign inspector

Upon re-entering Lab 6 Angela and Kai-Kai almost bumped into two men in business suits. One looked a little familiar.

“Oh hi Mr. Alkaras,” the Sire said politely. That’s who it was, Jonathan Q. Alkaras, the Project’s Chairman of the Board. “This is Angela Chin, from the medical team.”

The tall, dark-skinned man with a distinguished-looking beard, in his meticulous three-piece suit, bowed to Angela and clasped her hand. As the naked boy introduced her she felt embarrassed at not being better dressed. “Glad to meet you. I think we’ve met before . . .” Now he spoke to Kai-Kai in a tone that was respectful but, Angela felt, a little condescending. Or maybe it was just her imagination, since Kai-Kai lacked all of Mr. Alkaras’s numerous articles of clothing, and the gravitas of his years. “Kai-Kai, let me introduce to you Mr. Nuyen, from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam.

“Mr. Nuyen: the Sire.” Kai-Kai was rarely referred to by that name in his presence, and was never called that to his face. Angela and Mr. Alkaras looked on, and also Dr. Chatterjee and Nurse Lopez, and Ms. Bartleby and Ms. Goldenstein from the Draining Committee, and also Mr. Silvestri and his assistant, who paused in the packing away of their tools, honored to be present. It was a moment of high diplomacy. Modest as Kai-Kai was, it was obviously not the first time for him, as he carried himself in the manner expected. He acted like he was an ambassador. With dignity in spite of his lack of clothing, the Sire quietly padded over to the shortish man of about 55. Mr. Nuyen was as fully and neatly dressed as the Chairman, with a sprightly red (= Communist) pocket square in his jacket, and smelled like cologne. With a polite bow the Sire said, “Welcome to Semillas.”

Mr. Nuyen nodded to Kai-Kai’s face but could not hide his sense of alarm as he looked downward. He had been sent photographs but seeing Kai-Kai’s equipment “in the flesh” was another thing entirely. This led to an uncomfortable moment as everyone stood around, Mr. Nuyen staring at the Sire’s penis as if it was a rattlesnake about to jump up and bite him, and everyone looking with concern at Mr. Nuyen’s face.

“I apologize for our unannounced attendance at your draining, Kai-Kai,” Mr. Alkaras said, a little loudly, which caused the Vietnamese gentleman to blink and look up as if awakened from a trance. “As you know Vietnam has not yet been penetrated, but negotiations have been progressing. Mr. Nuyen is here, to put it bluntly, because of concerns that you might have a macropenis. We want to reassure him,” he shrugged good-naturedly, “that you are a normally functioning male.”

Angela closed her eyes, thinking of the embarrassment Kai-Kai must be feeling. When people from far away heard about his size, “macropenis” was the first thing they thought about. The word indicated an abnormal condition, a penis that was either non-functional or grossly distorted as a result of disease or cancer. Angela felt like pointing out that the boy’s equipment was not unique. “There really are other men that size, you know!” But it was not her place to speak.

Kai-Kai was not embarrassed. He seemed to be expecting this kind of curiosity. And maybe he had become accustomed to reassuring people who were new to the Project. Without saying a word he lifted his penis with one hand, as if inviting Mr. Nuyen to touch it. Then, holding his glans up past his navel, with the other hand he cradled his testicles, one at a time, rolling them around, to show that they were not misshapen. In fact Kai-Kai’s genitals were normal in shape and function, in every respect except size. Angela told herself this little display made perfect sense. Kai-Kai was just helping with Project “penetration” into new corners of the world, and maybe had been advised about Vietnamese anxiety by the Penetration Committee. But to Angela it still seemed demeaning. Like a woman with big breasts who has to take off her bra and display them to prove to everyone that they are not fake.

“Sir, do you want to touch -- palpate my penis and testicles?” the boy said respectfully, quickly correcting himself. In situations like this the Project preferred the use of medical terminology.

Mr. Nuyen, being a product of a conservative culture, quickly shook his head. He should have said yes. The people back in Hanoi wanted a full report. Mr. Alkaras, aware of this, said, “No, go ahead.”

Mr. Nuyen had been sent here because he had gone to college and specialized in urology, though he had never gotten a degree. So he knew what he was doing as he gingerly, after gulping, palpated Kai-Kai’s genitals. Kai-Kai held his penis forward so that Mr. Nuyen could feel it from root to glans with both hands. Then he felt below, cupping one testicle in both hands and then the other.

“The -- morphology seems the much normal,” he reported in a shaky voice. His English was stilted and accented; his main foreign language was French. Then with two fingers he felt something on the inside of Kai-Kai’s left testicle. “The -- epididymis -- is -- articulated more.”

“My sperm has been built up for the draining,” Kai-Kai explained, looking down at the inquisitive fingers. He then tried to suppress a wince; Mr. Nuyen had pressed a little too hard.

“Please my apology the most high,” Mr. Nuyen quickly said, then dropped the testicle. It swung back into position. He drew back, still not being able to take his eyes off the boy’s enormous equipment.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Mr. Alkaras said to Dr. Chatterjee, “you may proceed.”