By Rotwang

A man dressed in a black tux walked up the podium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm Brock Kentman, I will be your host tonight and I would like to welcome you to Las Vegas and to the First and hopefully not last Annual Miss Android Election.

We received 33 applications, but with our high standards, we only retained nine. And you're in for a treat !" The man waited for the applause to die down. He removed the mike from the stand and set it aside.

"How many of you have their keys with them ?" He taunted the audience, which responded by holding up all sorts of wind-up keys.

"Well just before we begin let's have some music."

A group of dancers walked up the stage and began a series of Electric Boogie moves to driving early eighties dance music. They all wore shiny silver and gold jumpsuits and had their faces painted silver.

"It was hard to get the people together for our show. In fact it took five years to get the word out that we were having an election. So move over Miss universe and welcome to the real women of the 21st century !"

Wild applause followed.

"We have contestants from New York."

There was some cheering.

"People from Detroit ?"

Some more cheers.

"LA ?"

Cheers and a few boos.

"Either the people from New York or Detroit have a problem with LA ?" The crowd laughed.

"And finally, from San Francisco, Japan, Germany, Denmark, England, France and ... Holland !"

The crowd cheered and clapped.

"But you're getting anxious ? You want to see the first contestant ?"

The crowd went mad.

"Okay ! I give you ... Japan !"

The lights went out and the people held its breath. While haunting oriental flute and drum music filled the air.

And then a single spot lighted and a pale figure appeared. A delicate Geisha in full kimono walked with little steps toward the audience and bowed. She looked like a bunraku puppet and some people began to clap.

But suddenly the music changed to high-paced heavy Japanese drums, mixed with stirring electronic music. There was a flash as the kimono and mask instantly flared up, turned to ashes, revealing a white and red female robot. She jerked up and somersaulted forward, and began a series of impressive martial arts moves, using two katana swords which she twirled and whizzed like batons. She looked like an armoured woman with an open face helmet and a mischievous slant to her white plastic face.

The audience went wild.

Katana bowed and Brock came back on stage.

"And she also slices and dices vegetables and you just rinse her under the tap ..."

The audience laughed.

"Katana ! Ladies and gentlemen, The Kung Fu Geisha !"

Brock built a few moments of dramatic silence by walking up and down the stage.

"Detroit !"

The crowd cheered.

"Who builds the best cars in the world ?"

"DETROIT !" The audience went.

"And who makes that special music ?"

"MOTOWN !" The people screamed.

"So there is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, because this baby has an V8 inside ! She's all that Detroit stands for ... She's Thunderbird !"

The ovation came to a climax as a bright red and chrome robot woman appeared in the full lights, shaped and curved like a Cadillac, with wings and pointed breasts like rocket-tip headlights. In the background Martha and the Vandela's were singing "Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide."

Arms and legs adorned with fifties wings and pointy headlights for breasts, even her name had been inscribed on the side of her leg. She mechanically danced to the driving rhythm, knocking the house down, with people spontaneously getting up and dancing with each other.

"A round of applause for Thunderbird !" Brock appeared again.

"Next on the list ... is Denmark. And forget about lederhosen and pigtails, because Denmark has some impressive customers as well. She is hauntingly beautiful, please welcome Hybrid." He ended with a deep tone.

The audience waited in anticipation as slow dramatic music built up the suspense.

Lights flashed on, but there was nobody to be seen.

And then just as people were about to look at each other a shape rose out of the ground.

She stepped forward on thin, stilt-like legs, supporting a sliver and gold body, with an impossibly narrow waist and a faceless mask. Like an automation, she walked around stage, leaving people to wonder about her.

When suddenly she pulled open her mask and revealed her half-human, half robotic face. You could see skin vanish under the metal and metal appear out of her flesh. What was left of her pale face had been gorgeously made up with bright red lips. If it was a suit she was wearing, nobody could explain how she did it.

After the stunned silence came overwhelming applause.

"Hybrid, ladies and gentlemen !" Brock looked spooked himself.

"She is quite..." He paused and laughed nervously. "Quite ... You know."

"Next, from England is a lady that makes me afraid to be a virgin eating dragon. She's not a knight in King Arthur's court, but she deserves a seat. Folks ... Chivalry !"

Her face was as shiny as her armor, with a dragon's head for a helmet and knight-like attire. Appropriately feminine, she carried a huge two-handed chrome sword, taller than she was and a blade as broad as a man's hand. And she sat on top of a silver horse.

With grace, she climbed off and leaned on her sword.

From the shadows, four men in medieval armour appeared, and she engaged them. One of them attacked, and she parried, knocking the sword back. With a quick move, she slashed across his stomach, cutting him down. Another one attacked but was quickly impaled. She killed the third when she removed the sword, in one fluid motion. The last one just dropped his sword and fell on his knees, begging for mercy.

Chivalry calmly walked up to him and raised her foot, putting it against his shoulder and pushing him over. And then held the sword to his throat.

Just as Chivalry was leaving, lights everywhere began to blink. Brock ran up the stage and tapped his mike.

"It appears we have some technical difficulties, but everything is going to ..."

A flash, some smoke and Brock was gone.

And then a figure emerged from the smoke, holding some kind of pistol.

Her body had varying shades of metallic blue and her head bulged out the back.

"People of Earth." Said an unearthly, but alluring voice. "You are not alone."

She holstered her gun and as the smoke cleared, the audienced noticed she had three breasts.

With long, dexterous fingers, she undid clasps and fuming tubes and opened the mask she was wearing, revealing a sharp-faced alien woman, with long tentacular hair, which swayed faintly of its own accord.

Her skin was light green with yellowish highlights and her eyes were jet black and emotionless.

The sight of the three breasted alien had a lot of people going "wow !".

On top of it, a flying saucer landed on stage. And the alien got on board. Lifting off with bright lights and smoke.

A guy wearing a headset walked on stage.

"Everything is under control. We're doing all we can to find Mr. Kentman, meanwhile we'll have a break."


The place looked like a madhouse. Stepping out of the big UFO, Stacy wished she could rub her face and painful eyes. But Steve was at hand to pop the black lenses out.

"It's still chafing under my arm." She said, lifting her right arm, where her suit was rubbing over the inside of her arm.

"I'll see what I can do." Steve said.

Stacy went back to her dressing room and passed Hybrid's. Helpers were removing her breastplate, revealing her tightly corseted body.

Her breathing was slow and deep, she winked at Stacy, who waved back and vanished from view.

"I think my corset is coming loose." Elke said in Danish, putting her hands round her waist and touching her thumbs and middlefingers around it.

"How are your legs going." A red bearded young man asked, pointing at her prosthetic legs.

"Fine." She nodded.

Back in another dressing room, Katana, Yoko as she was called, did some more kata's practicing ancient martial arts moves.

It took Stacy almost a minute to sit down in the chair, so as not to damage the suit she was wearing.

Brock passed her dressing room. "Congratulations, you knocked their socks off."

Stacy smiled, but her mask hid most of it. She just gave him a clawed thumbs up.

Back on stage the guy with the headset came on. People were waiting for Brock to return.

"Is there a doctor in the audience, because, well, Brock isn't feeling quite well.

The guy looked around for a moment and noticed a person getting up.

He was an older man who walked onto the stage under growing applause...

"It's doctor McCoy !" The guy said, welcoming the familiar face.

"Where's the patient." McCoy asked.

The guy produced a small glass jar.

"And what's your name ?" Bones asked.

The guy hesitated for a moment. "Uh ... Jim ?"

Bones raised an eyebrow.

"Well ... He's NOT dead, JIM !" Bones said, examining the jar.

The crowd cheered and clapped.

The lights died again for a few moments.

The headset guy returned. "Well ... Bones ... is taking ... care of ... Brock, but in the meanwhile we have a replacement announcer. Please welcome her as nicely as you can ... She's the ultimate ... The greatest of all... Terminatrix !

She was huge. Almost seven feet of icy attitude. She walked up the stage, towing two almost naked men, except for metal posing pouches, behind her on leashes. The audience fell silent.

With hands on her studded hips, she looked into the audience. People were feeling a bit uneasy.

Her cold emotionless voice filled the room. "Our next contestant comes from Los Angeles. She plays in a band, Crashing Steel. She's the queen of the bass guitar. Welcome to ... Heavy Metal !"

And Terminatrix stepped back, her head thrown haughtily back.

A six note riff sent a shiver down everyone's spine. Then again...

The lights flashed on and Heavy Metal appeared. A gun-metal woman with a huge silver mohawk. A leather jacket and a chrome guitar held over her shoulder.

In one hand, she held up a plug, which she took and inserted in her thigh. She ran the length of the cable back to the guitar and played the riff again... Bad to the bone !

Feet tapped and heads bobbed as she played a wild version of the hit, with a lot of feedback and noise, almost moving back the walls of the hall.

The rest of her band, dressed like escapees from Mad Max joined in, giving an earth-shattering performance leaving the audience gasping and slightly deafer.

The lights returned and Terminatrix stood there, arms crossed, showing off the sharp studs over her shoulders and arms.

"So pathetic organics ... You want more of my kin ?" She put enough tension in her words to make James Earl Jones sound like ms. Piggy.

"I give you Beauty ... From France ... Inhumaine Beautée ..."

Beautée looked like she had been made by a Paris Couturier. Elegant and refined, with a gorgeous silver face and golden locks for hair, carefully built up into a shiny topknot. Draped in transparent, silvery fabric, she moved with grace like a supermodel. Her body seemed to have been made without hinges or articulations, simply smooth all over. Incredibly simple and elegant.

The way she looked at the audience with her blue eyes created a wave of sighs and gasps.

And many hearts broke when she left the stage.

The lights went back on and Terminatrix looked at McCoy who smiled nervously. And people could catch the last words of a dialogue : "... No, I agree you would have been the prefect choice for the Borg Queen."

It wasn't sure if Terminatrix could laugh. But nobody was willing to ask her.

"So, on to our next contestant... " And Terminatrix walked away.

"I think she is a bit jealous ..." Bones said to the jar he held in his hand.

Loud military music and men hung from x-frames paved the way for a metallic gray woman, wearing a black uniform and huge black thigh boots. She had only a visor slit under her helmet, shaped like a design popular with dictatorial regimes some fifty years ago.

Her dungeon was Berlin... A Berlin where the Germans seemed to have won the war, since the men wore rags that looked like American uniforms and Brigitte Panzer was the ultimate state interrogator...

Able to use both charm and raw power to get information from her captives.

In her black SS uniform, she looked so kinky and deliciously bad.

Another flash of light and the sound of broken glass.

Brock returned under heavy applause.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. And thanks to you doc !"

McCoy smiled and returned to his seat under more applause.

"Phew ! I'm glad to be my normal size again." He said, putting the mike back and noticing it hung too high. He wanted to call McCoy, but just stopped. The audience laughed.

Brock lowed the mike. "If Motown is famous for its soul music, Holland is known for Dance music, House, Gabber and all kinds of electronic noise. So she can dance all day and all night and never gets tired because she's ... Dance Machine !"

Light flashed and quick paced music filled the hall, sounding almost as loud as Heavy Metal's guitar.

Dance Machine rose up on a pedestal, Bright orange, with a shiny black faux-leather mini-skirt, thigh-high boots and a lace top. She had long blonde tail of hair, coming out the back of her head, swinging wildly to the driving jack-hammer beat of the music. Her moves and dancing were fast, but jerky like an automaton on overdrive. Her face had something doll-like with large eyes similar to some Japanese cartoon characters.

"Well, this is the last contestant." Brock sounded almost sad.

"I don't think I'm wrong to say that our particular affectation might have begun in our last host country, way back in 1927, where a stunning design knocked the socks off any robot before and perhaps even since..."

He paused for a breath.

"I know it saddened you to see her vanish into the flames like that, but a group of loyal and dedicated fans took time to repair and restore her. She's back, slightly improved... Utopia Mechanix ... Hel !"

A single projector focused on a five pointed star with its point down. And then slowly it descended revealing a seated figure. Everybody held his and her breath.

Stern, with typical Art-Deco lines, she looked more alive with more expression in her face and her body more shapely, more refined in some ways. An improved version with a skin a distinct silvery bronze. Lights under her throne lit up and she slowly, with uncanny mechanical precision removed her hands from her lap. And then, slowly, she rose from the throne, with her back straight. A few steps forward and she paused.

Behind her, lights revealed a huge cylinder.

Sparks, lightning and smoke filled the stage and strained to see.

And in her place they saw a woman who looked around her and blinked slowly at the audience.

And then a single clap broke the ominous silence. The rest of the audience followed.

"And now we turn to the jury for deliberation ..." Brock said.