We just got home from our third, and final, MarsCon. And the last science fiction convention we will ever attend.

First, I want to praise the MarsCon staff. The con is professionally run, it's well organized, friendly, and the volunteers are all cheerful and eager to help.

Still, it wasn't the best time for us. I am an old SF fan. I like the old books. Much of my youthful reading material was books published well before my birth. I grew up on Golden Age Science Fiction and the waves of the genre that followed.

I dreamed of being involved in SF fandom when I was a boy, but I had no chances to do so. By the time I was able to attend cons, the genre was changing all out of proportion to what I expected and hoped for. Still, I got a taste of the fandom of olde.

A couple of years ago we acquired a lot of old SF. Paperbacks mostly, but also some hardcovers. I've been trying to sell them at very low prices, but business has been slow.

Fandom is more about cosplay than reading these days. The vendor rooms are full of arty-farty crafts. There's not even a lot of media-oriented sellers.

Needless to say there are the rows of hopeful indie authors, puppydog eyes begging for buyers. I don't mean to be rude, but I ignore them. What choice do I have? They try to sell you their books, same as in the horror community, but I'm not in the market to buy many amateur books. You can go broke trying to please them.

I sat there all weekend, and the occasional fan approached my table. What I think of as real fans, not would-be warriors, wizards, princesses and fairies,

I had some nice conversations, but sales were minimal. Actually, attendance was down this year, and most of the vendors seemed to be disappointed.

We did all right. Not great; we made around two-hundred and sixty dollars over our table fee, which is better than most appeared to do.

That's all right, if we have a good time.

It wasn't terrible, but as with the title of one of the most famous SF books in history, I felt like a stranger in a strange land. I don't fit in anymore. If, indeed, I ever really did.

My heart came alive when I took a chance and read Charles L. Grant's Nightmare Seasons sometime around nineteen eighty-two. I immediately became a Horror fan and never looked back.

I made a hard decision on Saturday afternoon. I am done, finished, wipe-my-hands-clean of Science Fiction. If it's no fun, and we're busting our asses for very little money, why continue?

I also decided to get rid of the books. We've practically tried to give them away, but no one wants them. We already have hundreds and hundreds of Horror books on hand. It's overwhelming.

I asked the lone other bookseller if she wanted the remainder of our stock for free. She wasn't enthusiastic, and I didn't push it.

I sat there, brooding about it. Looking at all those old books, remembering how much it all meant to me once upon a spaceship. It was my world, same as horror become my world, but SF never burned as brightly in my heart as did Horror.

I thought about the passion I had for it. My heart broke a little bit. Purging is good, and essential, but it also hurts.

I slept badly on Saturday night. I have spoken about my longtime best friend Dennis. We met in our preteen years and stayed friends for decades. I guess thinking about my youth and SF inspired a dream. Dennis and I were in the local 7-11, buying cookies. We did that sort of thing a lot back then. I always hung out at the spinning wire paperback book rack at the store, looking for Science Fiction books.

I woke up around two in the morning, unutterably sad. Dennis died nearly two years ago. I will always miss him. I miss book and movie hunting, movie nights, our ridiculously complicated joke worlds.

I got up and tried to watch a bad movie through my tears.

Things change. Life changes. Genres change. People die. We grow old and many of us wish to cling to the past.

I have five boxes of books in my car. Tomorrow they are going to a thrift shop. I hope they find homes, but if I can't give them away at a Science Fiction convention, what hope do they have in the real world?

So it's goodbye to Science Fiction. I still have some books. My Heinleins, some Pohl, some Asimov, Spinrad, Sturgeon, Simak, Bester. I'll still read the occasional book, but no more cons.

I once met Isaac Asimov. I told him I was a fan, and he replied in his strong accent, "Science Fiction fans are the salt of the Earth".

Well, Horror fans are the salt of the Earth as far as I am concerned. Horror fans read, they appreciate the past. Their cosplay is cooler. Damn it, their kids are smarter. We always have a little free library for kids at shows, and books go quickly at Horror events. Very few were interested at MarsCon. One little girl stuck her tongue out at me for asking.

I wish I had more people to discuss books with, but real readers are hard to find. Authorcon is coming up, and I am looking so forward not only to making money, but to be with my people.

And so, goodbye Science Fiction. I yearned to be a part of fandom in my youth, I had a honeyed taste of the glory days in my twenties, and now I want no more of it. It's a mixture of relief and heartache.

Written by Mark Sieber

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