"Norman Spinrad - He Walked Among Us" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spinrad Norman)

In the world of science fiction fandom, however, one did not generally achieve such status by screwing
stars like Dexter D. Lampkin. One got to screw the stars, such as they were, by achieving the status of
Big Name Fan. This might be accomplished by serving on the committees that put on the conventions,
publishing an amateur fan magazine or writing for such fanzines, entering work in convention artshows,
making a big splash in masquerade costumes, starring on тАЬfan panelsтАЭ at cons, or any combination
thereof.

By reputation, Dexter knew Ellen Douglas as a con organizer, fannish panel personality, and fanzine
gossip columnist. She was also reputed to be a great beauty who knocked тАШem dead at masquerades in
famous minimalist costumes, but, fannish standards of pulchritude being what they were, Dexter had given
this a heavy discount for hyperbole until that moment when their eyes met for the first time across that sea
of flabby flesh in Seattle.

All right, so this lady might not be quite movie starlet material, but oh yes, she had it, particularly in the
usual convention context, and oh boy, did she flaunt it!

Natural blond hair permed at the time into this incredible afro, regular features, big green eyes the
regulation distance apart, and this wonderful ripe body artfully barely-contained in a tight low cut thigh slit
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black dress, the whole effect something like that of azaftig surfer-girl Vampira.

It had been a magic moment, and a hot night, and a wild weekend, and a kind of frantic slow motion
cross-country romance, as Dexter and Ellen fucked their way from convention to convention for about
six months, before she finally gave up her place in St. Louis and moved into Dexter's little apartment in
San Francisco, and soon thereafter into the house in Berkeley.

For two or three years they were the Golden Couple of the Greater Bay Area Co-Prosperity Sphere,
the circle of science fiction writers, their significant others, their significant other's significant others, and
the surrounding cloud of fans, hangers-on, fringe scientists, and Big Name Dope Dealers to same who
formed what was the largest science fiction community in the United States.

Those were the days to be young, and in love, and a science fiction writer in Berkeley, and Dexter D.
Lampkin!

The science fiction genre had completed the transformation from lowly pulp publishing backwater, where
for a quarter of a century 5 cents a word for short fiction and $3000 for a novel had been considered hot
stuff, into what was soon to be known as a тАЬmajor publishing industry profit center.тАЭ Meaning that a hot
young talent like Dexter D. Lampkin could command thirty or forty thou for a novel.

Those were the days, my friend! Dexter could take six months or even ayear to write a novel. He could
afford literary commitment and social idealism and enjoy a life of relative bourgeois ease at the same time.

He could even believe he could change the world.

A lot of science fiction writers did, and, for better or worse, some of them demonstrably had. Arthur C.
Clarke had inspired the geosynchronous broadcast satellite, the Apollo astronauts credited science fiction