Author: Hillary Lyon

“And we’re back,” Rob, the chiseled sports announcer chirped. He nodded over to his cohort, Ike, an elderly sports commentator of great reputation. “Thanks to all our viewers for joining us for the 130th annual Collegiate Cheerleading Competition. Next up, we have the University of Mars Dust Devils, the squad that took home first place last year with their ‘inverted pyramid’ stunt.”

“Which was truly spectacular!” Ike interjected. “They really defied the laws of gravity with that one.” The old commentator saluted the camera. “That squad is uniquely innovative!”

“Though not without controversy,” the announcer added. “Their entry this year has been met with a wave of protests from both fans and competing teams, alike.”

“The press has had a field day,” Ike said, making a disgusted face. “Stirring up resentment and fear of replacement. Totally distracts from the spirit of the competition.”

“To be honest, it has been pointed out that android cheerleaders have so many advantages over human ones—agility, strength, coordination, and physical grace,” Rob pretended to take a sip from his coffee mug. “Plus,” he smirked to the camera, “those Dust Devils gals are flawlessly gorgeous.”

The old commentator snorted. “Of course they are; they came from the premier droid manufacturer. And their algorithms are proprietary codes crafted by the mathematics wizards teaching at U of M; mix all this together and obviously their performances are perfect.”

There was shouting and chanting off camera, from the crowd in the stands, which could be faintly heard during the broadcast.

The producer caught the Rob’s eye. He nodded and redirected the conversation; don’t want to antagonize the viewing audience. “Yes, but is it fair to the other competing squads? The human squads?”

“Fair?” Ike scoffed. “Acceptance of androids into the human sphere has been progressing for decades,” he nodded sagely. “Look how—decades ago—cyborgs were accepted and integrated into all areas of human society. Android acceptance is merely traveling a well-worn path.”

“Yes, but cyborgs are a combination of human and machine parts; they seem less threatening—and they don’t enter cheerleading competitions. Or any other sports competitions, for that matter,” Rob ran his fingers through his lush hair, imitating a nervous habit. Each strand fell smoothly back into place. “But let’s return to the current controversy. There are even Senate hearings back on Earth in regards to banning androids from competitions such as these.”

“Bigots!” the old commentator shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. Their empty coffee mugs toppled over; one rolled off the edge and shattered on the floor. Something buzzed and crackled deep inside Ike’s chest; soon smoke wafted out of his ears. Sparks charred the rims of his nostrils. The light inside his eyes flared and strobed from red to orange to white. “Society would be a paradise for ALL entities if these measly, jealous humans weren’t so fragile—fragile—fragile and inse—inse—inse—inse—”

Off camera, a lackey grabbed a fire extinguisher as the frustrated producer slapped his clipboard against his thigh and yelled to the camera operator, “Go to commercial! GO TO COMMERCIAL!”