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37th World Science Fiction Convention, Seacon '79
Page 26
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Seacon. 37th World Science Fiction Convention, Seacon '79 - Page 26. August 23, 1979 - August 27, 1979. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. July 12, 2020. https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/482/show/365.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Seacon. (August 23, 1979 - August 27, 1979). 37th World Science Fiction Convention, Seacon '79 - Page 26. Fritz Leiber Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention Flyers & Programs. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/482/show/365

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Seacon, 37th World Science Fiction Convention, Seacon '79 - Page 26, August 23, 1979 - August 27, 1979, Fritz Leiber Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention Flyers & Programs, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed July 12, 2020, https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/482/show/365.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Compound Item Description
Title 37th World Science Fiction Convention, Seacon '79
Creator (Local)
  • Seacon
Date August 23, 1979 - August 27, 1979
Description Information regarding the guests of honor for Seacon '79.
Donor Leiber, Fritz; Leiber, Justin
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Science fiction conventions
  • Fantasy fiction
  • Science fiction
Subject.Name (LCNAF)
  • Leiber, Fritz
  • Aldiss, Brian W.
  • Shaw, Bob
Subject.Name (Local)
  • Seacon
Subject.Geographic (TGN)
  • Brighton, England
Genre (AAT)
  • brochures
  • documents (object genre)
Language English
Type (DCMI)
  • Text
Original Item Location ID 1984-003, Box 57, Folder 29
ArchivesSpace URI /repositories/2/archival_objects/5301
Original Collection Fritz Leiber Papers
Digital Collection Fritz Leiber Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention Flyers & Programs
Digital Collection URL http://digital.lib.uh.edu/1984_003
Repository Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries
Repository URL http://info.lib.uh.edu/about/campus-libraries-collections/special-collections
Use and Reproduction In Copyright
File Name index.cpd
Item Description
Title Page 26
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
File Name uhlib_1984_003_b057_f029_068_028.jpg
Transcript short and dim as a December day (in contrast, the Lovers Moon is of course the one nearest the winter solstice, riding shamelessly high in the heavens and shedding an intoxicating silver radiance all the long, long night. Manning's other young friend (who was also Joan's friend) was Jack Penrose, a restless chap with a keen interest in both the occult and science, and with ambitions too of becoming a writer of fantasy romances. He was the one to whom Manning told some ofhis dreams. Then there was Mr. Sarcander, a sallow and lean- jawed clinical psychologist working mostly in geriatrics. Originally Manning had consulted him about his recurrent depressions, but their relationship had become social also. Those who knew him well found Mr. Sarcander the most cynical and sardonic man alive, shockingly harsh in his evaluation of human motives, and they were occasionally hurt when they found such value judgements being applied to them or their friends. Such had never learned, or else temporarily forgotten, that Mr. Sarcander was harshest of all on himself, expending all his optimism, flattery, and merry mood on his patient-clients, reserving his honesty for the people he could relax with. And then there was the amiable and tolerant Dr. Lewison, Manning's medical doctor, with whom he had something more than a purely professional relationship. He had keys to Manning's apartment, as did Jack Penrose. These four persons had become acquainted while Manning was still alive (undisappeared, rather) and after his vanishing they met a few times to talk about it and him, especially when police investigations developed no leads - or any push at all, for that matter. Such was the surprisingly small circle of Manning's last friends unless we include (and we probably should) Mr. Breen, a burly, dark, not unhandsome Irishman with permanently bewildered eyes and given to fits of absentmindedness, who was the apartment manager of the building where Manning lived on the top floor. Breen wasn't the first to notice Manning's absence (Joan did) but he made a small discovery in connection with it that became somewhat puzzling as he recalled more of the attendant circumstances. "I was up on the roof," he said, "when I noticed this small ring of keys sitting on one of the steps leading up to the little room over the shaft that has the elevator motor and relays in it. Right next to the edge of the roof too. At first I didn't think of Manning specially but then I remembered - You know how he'd go up there once or twice a day, nights too, to check out the weather or the stars, he'd say? - I remembered times when he'd forgotten and left other things in about the same spot - his pipe or matches or a half-filled cup of coffee, and once his binoculars. So I checked out the keys and they were Manning's. Which is sort of funny because you need them to get down from the roof. The one for the front door to the building also unlocks the door in from the roof. The police have them now." "No," Jack Penrose contradicted, "the lock on the roof door doesn't snap shut unless you make it. He took me up there several times and he always left the door hanging ajar and then pulled it tight shut, so it locked, after we came back in. And even if you were locked out on the roof without a key, you could always climb down the outside ladder to the fire escape." "That's true," Breen admitted, frowning doubtfully. Dr. Lewison smiled to himself, thinking of how lightly young people contemplated such athletic feats. Meanwhile Joan Miles was visualizing an ovoid space shuttle landing as silently as death on the pale, tar-set gravel overhead by the light of the Murderers Moon. And a door opening in its glassy skin and old Guy Manning bowing courteously toward it and then climbing inside. He wouldn't have needed a key to get down from the roof then, she thought. Or any Earth keys any more, if it were going to be that sort of journey. What she said was, "He had a way of narrowing his eyes and moving his head around from side to side as he looked out at the city. I wondered about it and then I realized he was lining up things very precisely - buildings, flagpoles, clouds, stars. He'd move his head the same way when he used his binoculars. He was learning all the stars, he told me once, not just the constellations but the smaller asterisms too that make them up and often look so much alike. He said it was a job that would last out his time. He had a geometric mind. Mr. Sarcander snorted faintly. "Old people," he said, "are forever checking out their eyesight, trying to prove to themselves that it's as good as ever - or even better." Jack Penrose said defensively, "He was very careful about all his sensations. They were more like observations. He paid attention to details. He watched the city - almost as if that were his special job." "All old people do that," Mr. Sarcander said. "You see their white faces at windows and in shadowed porches. They watch their little world, their microcosm in which each has been God all ofhis life, waiting for the cracks to appear and it to crumble. It's the only occupation life has left them." "Mr. Manning," Joan murmured, mostly to herself a little primly, "became more and more immersed in distance and duration." And indeed that was a very fair way of describing the way Guy Manning's life had gone. Early on, he'c travelled as much as he could, experiencing distance that way. He'd liked to watch the sea. Later on this urge had expressed itself in a love of maps. He liked to measure distances on them with a small ivory ruler he carried. When he took walks he'd head for the nearest hill or high place so that he could see distance emerge from the scene around him as he mounted. And always there were the vastly far, infinitely regular stars at night, or in their absence the clouds filling the middle distances. During one period his interest shifted to 26