Keyword
in
Collection
Date
to
36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two
Page 71
Citation
MLA
APA
Chicago/Turabian
Iguanacon. 36th World Science Fiction Convention Iguanacon Two - Page 71. August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. July 23, 2019. https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/815/show/759.

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 71. 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/759

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 71, August 30, 1978 - September 4, 1978, Fritz Leiber Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention Flyers & Programs, Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries, accessed July 23, 2019, https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/1984_003/item/815/show/759.

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.

URL
Embed Image
Compound Item Description
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
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 71
Format (IMT)
  • image/jpeg
File Name uhlib_1984_003_b057_f011_035_072.jpg
Transcript the Earth would have been lost long ago. No non-sensitive has ever seen the face of the menace that continues to threaten us. Only paladins like Alan Pryor have seen it, and they have never told us what it is like. Yet it exists. No one who has ever seen a blasted area, or lost a loved one when that terrible wind blows, could doubt that these guardians of our world stand at the edge of horror every moment of their lives. The way Alan Pryor died should be proof enough. To those whose love of anarchy blinds them to such realities, to those who cry out for investigation of the paladins and the Island, we offer the example of Alan Pryor, and swear he shall not have died in vain. T-65 in Bin 288. "This is a shock focus room," the paladin said. The children followed him with their eyes as he moved around the room, touching the eggshell white walls. It was a box. Empty of anything save four walls, ceiling and floor; eggshell whi^e. No break, no stain, no aperture, no carpeting. The class had been brought in through one of the walls that had slid aside. And when they were inside, and seated on the floor, the wall had eased back, sealing them in. The paladin was very old. His skull was shaved clean and they could see where a metal plate had been laid to cover the right side. He had only one hand. He had served many years as a paladin and now—after all the battles—had been given a sinecure as teacher of the young. There were eight of them, boys and girls, none older than ten, and they sat in a semicircle watching him, and listening. "This is where you'll spend most of your time. It's a training room." He seemed very tired. "In this room we will try to make you sensitive. Do you know what that means?" None of them knew what it meant. The old paladin closed his eyes for a moment and the skin of his upper lip pulled down as he concentrated. The walls began to shimmer and heat came from somewhere. Then there was the feel of a breeze, a stirring of warmth, an uncomfortable rush of air from another place. The wind rose. It climbed in intensity, hot, stifling, a sirocco. The children tried to sit in then- places, but the wind roared toward them, onto them, through them, past them, and they were slammed into the walls of the empty room. It was a wind from nowhere. And then, behind the wind came the sounds. Sounds of things that were not metal or plastic or glass but neither were they human. Sounds of rising notes, of chitinous surfaces sandpapering against one another, of water being heated to steam, of tympani echoing from a mountain top. The sounds seemed to pour from a single spot in the room. From a place high up in the middle of the air, where now the children could see a strange orange spiderweb of light spreading like a starburst of filament-fine lines, crazing in the trembling air as a projectile crazes glass. "This is how it begins. When you hear these sounds and you see that orange light, you know it's beginning. You will call it a spiracle; that is what we call it. And it means a hole is being made. Do you know what comes through that hole?" The children could not answer. The wind had passed, but they lay in terror, tossed in a pile in a corner, and the sounds ratcheted and grated and scraped at their nerves, and they were frightened. "This is what comes through the hole," the old paladin said, closing his eyes again, concentrating again. The orange spiderweb grew larger, split down the air, became a ten-foot rip in nothingness, and beyond it, as though seen through trembling water . . . darkness. Things moved in the darkness. The children scrambled together, arms and legs struggling to get farther away, closer to the white wall, out of sight and out of line of that fissure in the air, that color of orangeness that seemed to continue beyond the spectrum their eyes could perceive, those sounds that clattered in their bones and made their teeth hurt. And the things began to come through from the darkness. The first one was squat and thick and the color of potatoes. It had no face but it had a ring of slit-eyes that ran round its forehead; the top of its mealy form—what might have been a head, had it not been so unlike a head—ended with a million trembling cilia, each suet- white and wormlike. It did not have legs, but it was divided up the middle and its substance compressed the two stubs like dough as it shambled forward. The second was glass-smooth but dark. Light seemed to touch it and vanish, to be gathered in and nullified. It was faceted and part of it appeared and disappeared like reflections in mirrors when the surfaces were turned. It was large and thin and tall, then it was tiny and endwise and razored; then it was gone, then it was back. And behind them came a thing that moved like a chicken, arching itself forward then hauling itself up behind and under. It was covered with matted fur like a rat that had soaked itself in oil. The tips of the hairs gave off a faint green light. And behind it came a thing that looked like cheesecloth, but it was made of flesh. It was oozing with dark blood, and there were mouths everywhere on it, and rings of teeth and the blood could be seen pumping and circulating through the tubes that joined the empty holes in its rotting cheesecloth form. And behind it came four snapping things that tore chunks from one another as they gibbered toward the hole in the air. And then came a slab of wood with human hands growing all over its surface, and it scuttled along on the hands. There were others, seen only dimly in the darkness, and seen at all only because they gave off their own moist, green light. The children screamed and some of them cried, and all of them tried to get away, to become small and hide in the corner, and the paladin was speaking to them and even through the terrible noises they could hear his voice saying, "when you see the spiracle begin to form, you will know it is starting, that these things and others will be trying to get through. You will stop them. Do you know how you will stop them?" The children could not answer, would not; screamed. Only Alan managed to husk out a frightened, "Howwww . . . ?" The paladin opened his eyes suddenly, looked at Alan and said in that odd voice that needed no movement of mouth to be formed, "Do this:" Together—the old paladin helped the child—they turned their eyes inward. Rushed along a sparking silver thread, Alan felt the old paladin urging bursts of yellow light from the central fire deep inside him, out along feeders branching off the central silver thread. Each time the yellow light raced out it found a reservoir of pulsing energy; and it came hurtling back to the source purified and enlarged with power. Along and down the silver thread they raced together, the old one keeping the child in touch with the coruscating yellow power source, building it, shaping it, narrowing it into a lance of yellow light that was incredibly dense and potent. When it seemed Alan could contain no more of the yellow power, when he felt nausea bubbling up from below, far below the silver thread, the paladin revolved him. He (no, it wasn't like that) turned him, and across the scent of almonds Alan saw a gray mist. Together they flattened the yellow power and then the paladin smoothed it. The power went extruding across the sound of tin on concrete and the scent of almonds, went slicing straightaway like the horizon seen through an eye-slit It struck against the gray mist and there was a whirling sound, as of demon winds jammed into a sea-bottle. It went on for a long time and Alan felt ill, felt the yellow power thickening, felt it growing coarse and impure. The old one was with him. He helped Alan keep the yellow power isinglass-thin and irradicable. Alan trembled like a machine shaking itself to pieces. He could not feel his body; he existed only within his own mind; trapped on that endless plain with the horizon-line of yellow power and the gray mist and the thrashing killing winds. Then the yellow power cut the gray mist, suddenly, and it hurtled through into the 74 IGUANACON PROGRAM BOOK