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36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two
Page 70
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Iguanacon. 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two - Page 70. August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. September 15, 2019. https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/815/show/758.

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.

Iguanacon. (August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978). 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two - Page 70. 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/815/show/758

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.

Iguanacon, 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two - Page 70, August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978, Fritz Leiber Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention Flyers & Programs, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed September 15, 2019, https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/815/show/758.

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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Title 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two
Creator (Local)
  • Iguanacon
Date August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978
Description Program book for the 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon.
Donor Fritz Leiber; Justin Leiber
Subject.Topical (LCSH)
  • Science fiction, American
  • Fantasy fiction, American
Subject.Topical (TGM-1)
  • Meetings
Subject.Name (LCNAF)
  • Leiber, Fritz, 1910-1992
  • Ellison, Harlan
  • Busby, F. M.
  • Nesvadba, Josef
Subject.Name (Local)
  • Bowers, Bill
  • Iguanacon
Subject.Geographic (TGN)
  • Phoenix, Arizona
Genre (AAT)
  • brochures
Language English
Type (DCMI)
  • Text
Original Item Location ID 1984-003, Box 57, Folder 11
ArchivesSpace URI /repositories/2/archival_objects/5283
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 Educational use only, no other permissions given. Copyright to this resource is held by the content creator, author, artist or other entity, and is provided here for educational purposes only. It may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without written permission of the copyright owner. For more information please see UH Digital Library Fair Use policy on the UH Digital Library About page.
File Name index.cpd
Item Description
Title Page 70
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
File Name uhlib_1984_003_b057_f011_035_071.jpg
Transcript Ubc €5xecuttoner of the /Y\alf orrned Children by fiflKLfln ELLISOn D-12in Bin 39. M-l in Bin 85. 00-87 in Bin 506. We stand here tonight paying our last respects to him. One of those who committed their body at birth to our defense. One of those who had no hope for the future, no hope for real or lasting joy; one of those who said, with every breath he ever drew, "III stand between. " Of what use are words from me? Words, mere words, mean nothing. He served. Again: he served. And died for it. So we meet to pay last respects, to conduct a funeral for someone who denied himself all his life that we might live. What is there to say in behalf of someone like Alan Pry or that hasn't been said of his like since the brave first died? What is there to say about an Alan Pry or that won't sound stupid and mawkish and ridiculously melodramatic? He knew what lay ahead for him and not once, at no point of decision when he might have freely chosen to live like everyone else, did he turn'away and give up the task of being paladin to us all. There aren't enough thanks in ih'e world for Alan Pry or. But still we meet here for this polite ceremony, and hope it will suffice. It won't, of course, but we still hope. L-4 in Bin 55. He was seven years old when it really began for him. When he was born the hospital ran the tests required by the government security agency, and his dossier fiche flagged potential sensitive. But his mother and father had been horrified at the suggestion he be sold to the training school, and refused to release him. So the government had politely thanked them for their time, apologized for having inconvenienced them in any smallest way, and put Alan's name in the wait file. And when Alan reached age seven, things changed radically. Alan's parents had come on hard times. What had been a promising career for Alan's father had somehow, inexplicably, gone sour at every little juncture where it might have led to better things. There was no reason for it; not even Alan's mother's frequent paranoid delusions that the government was behind it made any sense. Things just went sour. And they were constantly pressed. And he was seven years old when he had the accident. On the school playground, positioned as far left seeker in a sandlot game of kinneys-and-trespass, he had not seen the great birdlike shadow that had swiftly fallen over him, and even as his friends had screamed look out, Al, one of those senseless freak accidents had occurred. The pak on a jitney had failed; the craft had fallen out of the sky and crushed the child beneath its rotors at impact. What a jitney was doing that far off the regular transit routes, at that odd hour, was never explained. But the passengers—a man and his wife from Topeka, Kansas—had been killed instantly, and Alan had been rushed to the hospital. Lying cocooned in spinex preservative, Alan had never regained consciousness. His body was broken and irrepar able. His parents came and stared through the spinex, seeing the lusterless bruise their child had become. "Mrs. Pryor . . . Mr. Pryor . . ." They turned at the soft voice behind them. "Doctor," Alan's mother pleaded, "save him . . . isn't there something you can do . . . Then she looked back and added, very softly, "He's so small . . . The doctor was a large man. Had he been rigged out in heavy wool, with a lumberjack waldo attached to his right arm, he would have seemed quite right in a logging camp. He put one great, thick arm around the woman's shoulders and said (in the gentlest voice for such a huge man), "I'm sorry. I've done all I can." Alan's father began to cry. Tight, dusty little sobs that failed to stir the air. "There is one thing ..." Alan's father was beyond hearing him, but she turned—still under his touch—and looked into his face for an answer from faraway. "The people from the training school. They registered a call for him. If he lives. If you'll grant permission." She stood without speaking for a moment, then laid her hand on her husband's chest. His head came up and he stared at her. "Dennis, please." He had not heard, so she had to tell him. And when he heard, he started to shake his head, but she grabbed his coat and her voice was desperate. "Dennis, I'm going to do it . . . the only way. They can save him. They have to do it. I will!" So the collection men came and took Alan Pryor away in aircars with shutters that had been opaqued. They took him to the Island, where the paladins were trained, and they saved his life. They did things to his body the Pryors' doctor never knew could be done. They saved Alan Pryor's life, and they saved that bright yellow spark in his mind that was the mark of the sensitive. Alan's parents never saw him again. But they had known that would be the way it would turn out when they signed the release. It was better that he should live, even as a paladin, even if they never saw him again. Alan's mother waited for their life to improve quickly after the school received their boy. But it never did. A-32inBin 11. T-28 in Bin 277. Alan Pryor was a sensitive. He had a power we still do not understand. All we can do is thank God that we were given such kinds of powerful talents when we needed them. Surely they are the most lonely figures on our green Earth, and if they were not here to save us, "The Executioner of the Malformed Children" is copyright © 1978 by Harlan Ellison. All rights reserved. 'GUANACON PROGRAM BOOK 73