It was the second day of Dragon*Con 2001, one of the largest science fiction gatherings in the United States. Jennifer and I were taking a break from the panels and the dealer room and the art show and were sitting in the eating area of the hotel’s restaurant, people watching. Past us strolled Klingons, angels, fairies, goths, Imperial Stormtroopers, Blue Meanies… in short, a wide variety of the best and the brightest that the galaxy has to offer. We were seated facing outwards, pointing out costumes and making comments to each other. Most of these comments were nice, of course — Jennifer and I are both, on the whole, nice people — but some were, I admit, downright catty (one in particular that I made to Jennifer: "I love coming to these conventions; I can feel positively slender here!").

I watched carefully and observed how a lot of the people interacted with each other. It’s true that a lot of them have less than perfectly developed social interaction skills, so a lot of them are very shy and don’t interact well with other people who don’t share their interests — with the Mundanes. But even with those folks who had shown up at the Hyatt in downtown Atlanta on Real Business (that probably involved Lots of Money), the conventioneers were polite and civil, which is a lot more than I can say for most of the other people I usually meet in large crowded settings. And it occurred to me that most of these people just want to be liked, somewhere near to the surface; they just don’t know how to express it or act on it. Hence, they are often shy and introverted, but very polite and very courteous.

I mentioned this to Jennifer, who agreed with me. I went on to say, "You know, almost all of these folks are very intelligent and creative. Good problem solvers."

"Mm hmmm," said Jennifer.

"And," I added, "very capable problem-solvers. The ones who have played lots of Dungeons and Dragons are even used to solving problems in teams." Which is true; and, in fact, there are studies which show that teenagers who play role-playing games actually have a lower suicide rate than most other teenagers; and this is usually attributed to the fact that they have learned well how to confront and solve problems as groups.

"You’re right," said Jennifer.

"I know I’m right," I said. "And," I went on, "there is a lot of untapped talent for good here. I bet someone with just the right level of charisma and know-how could mobilize these folks and leverage all of that talent and intelligence into world domination. I bet I could do it."

"Yes, dear," said Jennifer. This is the code phrase she uses which means, "That’s very nice, dear, you go ahead and do that and I’ll just sit here and eat my salad."

So I know that if I do go out and leverage the power of the fan community into world conquest, I’ll do it with Jennifer’s blessing. But I probably won’t. I can’t figure out what the heck I want to do with my own life, so God only knows what I’d do if I had to cope with figuring out to do with an entire planet. So I’ll leave it to someone else to work out the logistics of conquering the world with legions of science fiction fans, fantasy fans, and goths.

On the whole, it was a great convention. I’ve already mentioned how much fun it was to sit and people watch and take in the costumes. The panels I attended — ranging in topic from "The Prospects for Artificial Intelligence" to "Horror in the New Millenium" to "Game Designing in the Twenty-First Century" — were fascinating, and I got to meet at least one of my favorite writers, and have some interesting conversations about whether ant hills could think and how to incorporate horror elements into science fiction games. My good friend Evilpheemy had wanted me to run a playtest of the science fiction/horror role-playing game that he and I have been developing for about four years now, but I honestly didn’t have a chance. There was too much else going on. Next year, when we go back, I’ll try to get in a playtest of the (hopefully) completed game, as well as do some more socializing, and perhaps even attend some of the live music events that they have going on late at night.

On Saturday, both Jennifer and I attended a panel which was entitled, "Science Fiction for the New Millenium," which was supposed to address the topic of what social problems and innovations science fiction would be addressing now that the year 2001 is almost over and cloning, AI, space stations, and cybernetic implants all seem to be becoming realities. In reality, the topic wasn’t very well addressed, because when the topic of ethics in the new century came up, the specific issue of copyright violations on the Internet emerged. One of the panelists — a shortish fellow, well-respected in the science fiction field, and with a reputation for being a bit outspoken (if you know who I’m talking about, you know that I don’t need to name him; and if you don’t, naming him won’t do you any good anyway) — went on a long rant on the topic and confronted one of the audience members face to face; I thought he was going to hit the poor guy. I felt sorry for him — the audience member, that is — but I also realize that it’s practically an honor to be berated in public by this particular writer.

Jennifer became annoyed at the entire situation. We had come to see the topic of "Science Fiction in the New Millenium" addressed, and instead the panel became a forum for addressing one author’s particular hot button. As we left the auditorium, Jennifer looked at me and said, "He may be a respected writer, but he’s a real jerk."

To which one of the people who were passing us at the time and who had overheard us replied, "Yes, but that’s just the way he is."

And then Jennifer said, "Well, I guess you don’t have to be nice to be popular."

Well, okay, it probably wasn’t much of a revelation; I’m sure that Jennifer already knew that, after all. But I had already come up with the title for this entry and I needed a story to fit it.

Dragon*Con was, over all, brilliant. I enjoyed everything, from the AI panel to the 2001 Miss Klingon Empire Beauty Pageant (I can’t even pronounce the name of the woman who took the title, and spelling it would be hopeless — suffice to say that she earned the title). I came away wishing I could have seen more, and that I had had time to do more, including running the playtest. I came away with questions: questions like, "How can I make the setting for our role-playing game truly horrifying?" and "Where can I find more of that guy’s books?" and — most importantly — "Since when was a Jedi lightsaber part of a Klingon armoury?"

Some questions, I guess, will never be answered.

I can’t wait until next year’s Dragon*Con. I’m sure it will be as much of a blast as this year’s.