registration desk to the right. Copious large signs on easels pointed the way to the convention.
At the convention registration desk Turner saw a number of costumed individuals, but to his surprise most people were in ordinary attire.
Ben said, “I thought I’d see odder costumes and more of them.”
Jeff said, “Boy, you guys are so out of it. There’s like a hundred thousand people here. It’s the biggest SF convention ever. Only maybe a couple thousand will be in costume. Most everybody who’s going to be doing costumes will only have them on for the contest. Can I go to the game room first? I’m supposed to meet Bertram there as soon as I’m done registering.”
A crowd swept toward their small gathering.
“Who is it, Dad?” Jeff asked.
Through a gap in the milling throng, Paul saw a woman dressed in a passionate purple evening gown. She carried a two-foot-long red ostrich feather in her right hand.
Paul said, “A woman in an evening gown. She’s carrying this gigantic feather-plume thing.”
“A red one?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s Muriam Devers.” Paul had heard the name. She was one of the most renowned female science fiction writers, and she trailed only J. K. Rowling for sales. Devers and her entourage swept past.
Jeff pulled himself up as high as he could in his chair and craned his neck to look. When the milling mass had passed, Jeff said, “That was cool.”
Brian said, “I thought you didn’t like her.books.”
“No, I used to like her books, just not so much anymore. But she’s famous. I want to see all the famous people here at the convention.”
“What’s with the feather?” Ben asked.
Jeff said, “The red ostrich feather is in her first book as a big part of the main character’s costume. She started wearing them to all these conventions. Then it became a big deal, like her trademark. She’s always wearing one in her pictures on the book jackets.”
Bertram’s parents and Paul and Ben had worked out a system so that one set of parents would be present at the convention at all times. Paul and Ben would take Bertram, Jeff’s best buddy in fifth grade, home tonight and monitor activities on Sunday. Bertram’s parents had the day shift Saturday. Everyone would be present Saturday night.
Ian was planning to attend several panels at the convention on gay sensibility in the field. There were also several graphic novelists who were trying to start a gay group. Ian said, “I’m supposed to be interviewing some guy who just had the third volume of his great gay space-opera trilogy published.”
“How are you going to find him in this throng?” Paul asked.
“He’s supposed to be this heavyset guy in a white beard.”
Paul said, “Find somebody with a Santa complex and you’re all set.”
Ian said, “I set it up to meet him at the third pillar from the left at Pierre’s.”
“More intrigue than I care to know about,” Paul said.
Paul had to work the next day and would have preferred a quiet evening at home. He saw Brian with three people, one in a Spider-Man costume, the other two scantily clad nymphets. He understood now why the boy wanted to attend.
Paul walked around the convention. In the dealers’ room he saw people hawking posters and paraphernalia. It seemed to him that every second-rate television show that had anything to do with science fiction or fantasy had at least one booth trying to sell schlock souvenirs. There was another room with rows and rows of tables where people were demonstrating how to illustrate comic books to crowds clustered three or four deep. In another large hall, hundreds of people playing board games were gathered around octagonal tables. Paul was impressed with the level of seriousness and struck by the fact that the people all seemed to be intent and at ease at the same time.
Mrs. Talucci stomped over. She was using a cane. She claimed it wasn’t for getting around, it was for moving slow people out of her way. She still