“Ladies and gentlemen we are here to bring you the latest in the space race,” Norman Bradbury, no relation, stood on stage in a perfectly tailored suit.
The wall-sized screen behind him shuffled between star scape and various logos of sponsoring companies.
“That’s right, Norman,” his cohost Ginger Watts was all but invisible standing in front of the screen in her sparking black dress. If not for her shockingly white teeth and cocoa skin would have been lost. “Ever since the discovery of three Earthlike planets ready for exploration the race has been on to be the first company to solve the riddle of long term space travel.”
“Now, Ginger,” Norman turned to his cohost and put his hands on his waist in a way that proved why he wasn’t made for performance art. “We all know with the invention of Multi-shield, the travelers would be perfectly safe from radiation.”
“Don’t forget the jump in artificial gravity generators,” her smile was professional but held an edge that made the crowd wonder if she would toss Norman off the stage. “All we need is someone to reverse the polarity on the main reactor and we’ll be in a sci-fi movie.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t one of those dreadful made for TV ones,” he shuddered and gave the crowd a wink.
A picture of Ginger in a body suit hardly suitable for a day at the beach let alone a space station popped up on the screen. The next picture was her being eaten by a poorly rendered CGI monster.
“Norman,” she waggled her finger at him. “Two can play at that game.”
With a snap of her fingers a series of pictures of Norman in his car soliciting women on the corner began to run. The set of embarrassing footage went on for much longer, including a few return trips and a stop behind a dumpster.
Norman gawked at the screen, his mouth moved but nothing intelligible came out.
“Should I show them the ones from LA?” Gingers’ smile turned predatory.