All
the way across Phoenix to Tempe, cranes loomed over construction.
Also new office and apartment buildings shined across the landscape.
The dream of making the Metro Phoenix Area into Silicon Valley colony
was going full-steam ahead.
Emily
and I were off to WesterCon 70/Conalope/LepreCon 43. We had her
upcoming novel, Medusa
Uploaded,
and some anthologies--Five to the Future,
with stories by both of us, plus Latin@Rising,
and Altermundos
featuring
stuff by me--to tell the fans about. It had been a while since we had
been to a local con, and I was curious to see how things had evolved.
How was old school fandom getting along with new, improved nerd/geek
culture?
For
one thing, the gentrification extended all the way across the canal
to Mill Ave. We had to figure out the Mission Palms Hotel’s high
tech parking lot gizmos--hey, techies! We could really use screens
for these things that can be read in the Arizona sun!
There
were more members of graying fandom than young nerds. It was a
quieter, smaller version of the conventions of old. Though now and
then there would be a serious kid with tattoos and/or blue green
hair, taking notes.
People
recognized us and told us how they loved our work. At most of the
panels I was on, the focus was books, writers, and stories rather
than franchises.
Em
was on a panel about traditional versus self or indie publishing. I
was reminded that things are changing, and--as usual--I wasn't sure
where I fit into the equation. And I’m disturbed at how a lot of
writers these days are getting locked into a self-inflicted rat race
in which they aren’t making money or even having fun.
We
had dinner a Rúla Búla, an Irish pub/restaurant, right next to the
hotel, with our mad scientist friend and his DNA analyst wife. I had
the corned beef and cabbage in honor of my Irish heritage. Emily had
macaroni and cheese with a side order of sweet potato fries.
Em
had to work Monday, so I took the light rail from the Heard Museum to
the con. Phoenix looks different from inside the train--more like an airless, sun-blasted futuristic metropolis than a wide-open sprawl. I
had a blurred view through the sun-screened windows of a lot of
sparkling, new buildings. The riders were mostly young,
“multicultural” and tickling electronic gadgets. The
air-conditioning strained all the way.
The
future has arrived in Phoenix. The shock will follow. Soon.
At
the con,the heat made the courtyard unlivable. I stood indoors.
Back
at the Heard, I checked out the Museum Shop, where I saw things that
were more amazing than anything in the convention art show. Fantasy
artists, open your eyes. Especially in Arizona.
The
science panels were well attended. A lot of these fans are working on
space technology.We got to make paper stabilizing rockets, and saw a
PowerPoint presentation on interstellar propulsion from a guy who
works for a local tech business. Just what kind of gentrification are
we in for?
I
was on panels with writers like Connie Willis, Linda Addison, Weston
Osche, Yvonne Navarro, Gini Koch, J.L. Doty, and we finally got to
meet Cynthia Ward. Got to talk about humor, diversity, and the
Southwest/Aztlán as a location for fantastic fiction. The people in
the audience seemed to give a damn. Can’t ask for much more than
that.
I
felt good as we ate again with the mad scientist and his wife, this
time at Med Fresh Grill, where the waiter could actually rock the
man-bun look. The police had blocked off Mill Ave. Crowds were
filling the streets. It was the Fourth of July. Block party time.
We
saw a lot of fireworks over Phoenix on the drive home, to the west
side, across the railroad tracks, where the gentry still fear to
tread. It smelled and sounded like a war zone, except for the music.
A neighbor kept playing “Stars and Stripes Forever” over and
over. It would have been an ideal night for the UFOs to sneak in.
