Theodicius
Good. Evil. Bratwurst.

Just read in Locus about the death of Algis Budrys. Ruined what was promising to be a perfectly good day.

Some will write about how good of an editor he was. And there will the obligatory homages to Rogue Moon and Who?, his classics in the genre. All of that will be covered by others who will do it much better than I, so I will leave them to it.

Instead I’ll talk about Michaelmas, a flawed book with a conventional alien invasion plot, but with a more personal meaning. It was the novel that brought me into the computer industry. Besides being a forerunner to (and better than 99% of) the cyberpunk subgenre in science fiction, it was the first novel to explore the potential of human/computer teams, without making either one the slave of the other. Oh, there was no doubt who was in charge (Michaelmas, the human). But he listened to and often accepted the advice of the computer (Domino) and in general treated Domino as he might a human member of his staff.

That was what excited me. It made real to me the possibilities of computers not as calculators, but as assistants in the real meaning of the term: as things to assist us in what we do best. It was the synergy between Domino and Michaelmas that excited me. I wanted to make that happen in real life.

I was happily on my way to becoming a chemist when I read that book. It was a life-altering experience. Call him cranky, curmudgeonly, call him whatever you want. Just remember it takes a whale of a writer to reach into someone’s life like that.

I never knew Budrys the man, but that doesn’t matter. My world is a little darker today for his absence. And for the umpteenth time, I’m going to re-read Michaelmas.

…, a book by Robert J Sawyer, was the latest to leave its imprint on the wall.

You know how it is, the story is going along nicely, you’re getting in to the characters when suddently the author slips, and destroys the illusion that he’s been building up and that you’ve been enjoying. You want to scream, but settle instead for throwing the book across the room. (more…)

This one hurts. Just got word this morning that long-time fan rich brown died.

I never met him face to face, something I was hoping to rectify and now will never have the chance. Our opinions and beliefs diverged more than they converged, which you might think was a good reason not to meet. But if you do, then it’s clear you never knew rich.

You didn’t need to agree with him; in fact I often got the impression he preferred it if you didn’t. Not because he was scrappy old curmudgeon, lusting for the cut and thrust of a good fight (though if it happened, he was able to keep his end up nicely). But it seemed somehow, just by disagreeing with him, you uplifted him. The existence of contrary points of view was interesting in itself, and was a phenomenon to be respected and studied for what it was: confirmation of the diversity of the universe, and the strength that flows from it. There was something to be learned from every person he met.

Dr Gafia has now left the planet. And the planet is the bigger loser.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Some naive folks from Utah invited me to join their concom recently. They were bidding on the World Horror Convention.

We got the bid! Have patience. It’s a new site and we just got the bid for 2008, so there’s a lot of decisions that are just now being made. I’d tip you off to them here, but Robert Bloch promises me he’ll stop haunting me if I do, so you’ll just have to be patient. Just expect to come and have fun.

Wow. Me on a concom. Now that’s horror.

Just worked Program Ops for the recent NASFic, CascadiaCon, and I’m home, tired but happy.

Starngely enough, I really like working conventions, and working with this group was a new experience, and a good one. Miriah and her support team from ISS worked heroically, and thanks largely to them I actually looked like I was capable of doing my job. Both Lea Farr and Charlie Harmon went far above the call of duty to make my time in the Program Ops office an enjoyable one, and the entire staff had enough enthusiasm for the job to make it an altogether fun experience.

One of the hazards of working Program Ops is you don’t get much feedback on what is going right with the convention, all you hear are complaints. And there are always complaints; you can’t please everyone. One example: We were told we should have cut the number of kaffeeklatsches in half, because holding two different ones in a 600 square foot area made it hard for the hearing impaired. Doing so would, of course, have disappointed some pros and their fans, who would not have had the chance to get together at all. So either way someone gets irritated with us. (Personally, I was on the side of the hearing impaired complainer until he as much as called me a liar to my face when I told him we were noting the complaint as something to be more heavily considered for the next con. Just a note for his future reference, if he’s reading this: It never helps your case if you go out of your way to insult the person you’re trying to convince to help you.)

The intent of the programing head was to provide as varied a program as he could, WorldCon-class programming in a space that was certainly not WorldCon class in size. A laudable goal, and one which was achieved, although achieving it made several panel audiences much smaller than they otherwise would have been, and made getting to some panels problematic.

There were rough patches, some made worse by the cultural differences of the staff (we’d all worked different conventions, and so were used to doing things in different ways) but those got smoothed out by mid-con. At something over 1500 attendees, this was the smallest con I’d worked in over two decades, so the looseness of some of the operation scared me at first, as did the low number of volunteers. You need bodies and a more rigid system to run a large con, but smaller cons can spend more time in improv mode and still succeed. And smaller numbers of attendees means a smaller number of volunteers; there’s no valid reason to suggest the percentage of volunteers would go up as number of attendees goes down. But once I’d had time to think about it rationally, I understood and adjusted, just as other con staff began to understand me and adjust.

It was a fun time. If you were there, thanks for making it fun. If you weren’t. you missed out on something good.