-=ConUtopiaN=- the MichiganFandom zine: April 2007

The Marriage Between Zones Three, Four, and Five: Penguicon 5.0, Troy Hilton, Troy, Michigan,

April 20-22, 2007

Now that Doris Lessing has won a Nobel prize for literature, it'll be fun to use the titles of her Canopus in Argos series SF novels as often as possible (yes, the nyah-nyah factor is included). But to be serious (relatively) for a moment, Penguicon could (if you squint just right) be seen as a confluence of science fiction (SF), computers, and SF fandom. Don't ask me what Zones One and Two are; go read the books!

One must note, at the outset, that the concomm of this convivial con make it quite easy to register for attendance. Pre-registration can be accomplished via regular mail with a check or money order payable to Penguicon, online with PayPal at penguicon.org, or at pre-con events scheduled at other cons before Penguicon. Their Web site provided dates and locations where pre-regs could be had, and day rates for the con were available for those who couldn't attend all three days.

It's a tradition among some fen who write conreps to provide a kind of travelogue format for their reports. I find this format dull and boring even in the best reports, so I won't use it here. If anyone's curious, my journey from northern Michigan was fine, I missed one turn, and since I stayed at a relative's house instead of the con hotel, I have no notes on the Hilton apart from public areas.

Six GoHs! One would think one was attending WorldCon with that many honored guests, but it's just one example of the encompassing nature of Penguicon's initial purpose (to bring together SF fans and computer folks). With each Penguicon, however, more areas of fannish and computer interest are added, to the point where it seems all aspects of SF fandom and computer use are included.

The guests this year were Bruce Schneier, Founder and Chief Technical Officer of Counter Pane Internet Security, Inc. (Tech GoH); Christine Peterson, Foresight Nanotech Institute, credited with the term "Open Source Software" (Science GoH); John Kovalic of Dark Tower Comics and Munchkin card game creator (Gaming GoH); Randy Milholland of Something Positive webcomic (Comics GoH); Elizabeth Bear (Author GoH); and Charlie Stross, Linux and Perl journalist and programmer (Author GoH).

Penguicon has also built a tradition of having what it calls "nifty" guests. These guests are people invited by the concomm to attend; whether their travel and accommodations costs are comped as are the GoHs, I don't know, but there's probably some incentive to show up. Some probably attend on their own dime just because Penguicon is fun. In 2007, the Nifty Guests were Rob Balder (creator of clip-art comic strip PartiallyClips online, associate editor of fanzine Nth Degree, filker, card-game co-creator of Get Nifty); The Ferrett (popular LJ blogger, editor-in-chief of StarCityGames.com, writer of several computer books); Clif Flynt (TCL guru); Eric Raymond (author of The Cathedral and the Bazaar, editor of The New Hacker's Dictionary, president of the Open Source Initiative, your basic computer ghod); John Scalzi (SF writer, blogger); Karl Schroeder (SF writer, technology professional); The Great Luke Ski (famed filker, artist); Tom Smith (another famous filker); Sarah Zettel (SF writer); Gini Judd (popular blogger); Sarah Monette (SF writer); Nick Sagan (TV screenwriter of several produced Star Trek-franchise episodes, novelist, creator of the phrase "Hello from the children of planet Earth" which was inscribed and placed aboard Voyagers I and II, and son of the late Carl Sagan); Howard Tayler (professional cartoonist, former Linux pro, inventor of the Chupaqueso [lovely fried cheese]).

Con chair John Guest ran what appeared to be a happy ship, reins just tight enough to keep it all moving forward, but loose enough to allow committee members and department heads to think for themselves when situations required it. Matt Arnold is a programming guru; he handled Head of Programming and Fannish Programming duties as well as handing out ribbons that said BWOP (and of course I've forgotten what that stands for) and writing a very good essay for the program guide called "The Knowledge Ecology."

Markell Lynch and Dan DeSloover put together an easy-to-use program book crammed with every imaginable con activity and then some. Charlie Stross' program-book photo (he's been bald for a while now, so this photo was like camouflage for the famous) and the footers caused some amusement. Lynch and DeSloover provided an excellent layout design, with photos to go with the guests in nearly every case and a logical program grid. The only frustrations I had with the program guide were those of my own making; I was in the Hilton at 10:30 on Friday morning, wondering where everyone was. Silly me. I forgot that most of the other people working at and/or attending this event had jobs.

According to "Introduction to Penguicon" panelist Rob Landley, the estimated attendance from pre-registration was 800-900 people. There were plenty of one-day attendees, from what I saw, so at one point or another the total might have hit a thousand warm bodies.

The Troy Hilton was big enough to make that many people seem comfy, and not so large that one tended to get lost. I never felt crowded at any of the panels I attended, nor crowded walking the halls even during the busiest times of the con. The huge Computer Lounge, at first, surprised me -- but then I remembered there were a lof ot Linux and open-source (OS) software people around, and it made perfect sense.

With eight programming tracks (fandom, software, crossover, games, anime, onstage, swordfighting and food & drink), anyone who claimed boredom had to be lying.

The Sanctuary Press Writers Workshop staff consisted of Anne Zanoni, Sarah Shefferly, David Loius Edelman, Willian Jones, M. Keaton, Tobias S. Buckell, Karl Schroeder, Elizabeth Bear and Michael A. Andaluz.

Panels I attended appeared well-populated. Some of the computer-track panels looked more sparse; when I passed doors just opening after some of them ended, I saw 5-10 people in the room, where the panel consisted of one person. The sfnal panels looked very well attended, and of course the chocolate ritual was packed. Oh, didn't I mention the chocolate ritual yet? It's exactly what you think it is, and a great deal of fun, as chocolate-related events should be.

Volunteering at Penguicon is certainly worth anyone's time. I ended up paying the top registration fee ($45) due to my last-minute decision to attend, and only had to work 6 hours to earn that back. Verifying volunteer hours worked was easy and painless (most of the time), and those who paid their registration by check got their checks back, those who paid via PayPal or credit card received cash, and this con reports it makes a profit every year. Besides, volunteering to work in the con suites was great fun, though tiring for an old phart like me. But I wasn't the only one over 40 volunteering, and it was refreshing to be around energetic, funny, reliable people while working. And the people who came into the con suites (I worked both) were the same sort of folks.

The dealers room seemed smallish for my tastes (I like lots of options - I get bored easily), but Penguicon is generally considered a regional con. However, besides the expected booksellers, an almost-instant T-shirt imprinting service (very popular), two jewelers (also very popular -- jewelry isn't just for women, guys), Renfaire clothing, and genre-related items were also on offer. Perhaps the Penguicon crowd isn't known for deep pockets, but the dealers room looked well attended most times I passed it or visited there.

Room scheduling for panels seemed well-thought-out in most cases, from what I saw. Inevitably, there was the lone panelist in a room big enough for at least three more panelists and a handful in the audience, but these things happen. From the panels I attended, the panelists seemed well prepared for their panel topic and the moderators kept things on track.

Penguicon 5.0 was the first con I've attended where I acquired ribbons. I found this a fun and engaging activity, and I do like silly things, so this fit right in. My collection included Compiler of Dreams from Freon, the first one I got, because he was the first person I saw whom I actually knew when I registered at the con; I Got My Rocks at the Amber Fox (the dearlers' room merchant who sold me the two silver dragon rings, one with a malachite cabochon); Chocolate Clergy (from the Chocolate Ritual panel Friday night, along with a prayer card); Do You B.W.O.P.?; "Not" Busted (I wrote in the "Not"); It's Not 42, It's Me; Consuite Staff (in last year's purple because Shar Nims didn't have any of the current year color); Busted (for being not busted; the qualifying question was "Have you ever been busted for anything?"); Tell Me Who You Are (from Charlie Stross, but I didn't; I just chatted with him briefly a few times); and "Nobody ever imagined a band of orcs would steal a database table." (Charlie Stross gifted me with this one after I complimented him on his International Pixel-Stained TechnoPeasant Day T-shirt). One woman had so many ribbons she wore them as a stole or a scarf (the phrase "ribbon slut" is most accurate here, and she described herself that way).

I skipped Friday's Geeks With Guns due to exhaustion from the previous day's drive. My pre-arranged lunch with a friend at 12:30 never happened. She'd said she'd been ill earlier that week when I talked to her on Friday, and as it turned out, she had in fact been sick all day Saturday. Quelle dommage. Discovering that Ops isn't supposed to open until 3 p.m., I grow impatient; I want to start having fun NOW.

My annoyance was amply assuaged with a sumptuous lunch at Charlie's Crab House, which is attached to the Hilton. Charlie's belies its name: it's an upscale, classy eatery and bar/lounge, looking more like what I imagined the dining room of a gentlemen's club to be rather than a fancy restaurant. Con wisdom advises one good meal a day, so this was going to be it for me. I have to give the wait staff props for treating me like I'd walked in with diamonds driping off my fingers, and I made sure to tip my waitperson appropriately for such excellent service. My French dip came with too many French fries, but that was my fault, I could have specified half as much or asked for a substitution.

Friday afternoon around 2:15, I went up to the 2nd floor and helped with setup in both con suites, then went to registration a few hours later to sign in. Freon (aka Michael A. Andaluz, SF writer and masquerade master) had parked himself in a chair nearby, so I plonked down next to him afterward and nattered for a while. On receiving my first ribbon from him, I wondered briefly whether anyone would think it meant I was a writer, and joked about that thought later.

Having signed in, gotten my badge and various freebies from Registration and lobby tables (flyers for future cons, comics and graphic-novel artists and writers), I headed to the non-smoking con suite to relax and take a break before attending my first panel.

"Intro to Penguicon" got added after the program book was printed, so I was glad I'd seen the sign for it earlier. This is a very informative panel for Penguicon newcomers as well as con newbies in general. Attendees from the SF side are encouraged to ask questions of the Linux folks, especially in the Computer Lounge. I didn't get a chance to test this due to all the great SFnal programming, but the Computer Lounge, when I used it, wasn't very noisy even with the Chaos Toy in full-on mode and, given they had to use the standard hotel stacking-chair, reasonably comfortable for at least a 2-hour online session.

The Opening Ceremonies were hosted by conchair John Guest, dressed most nattily in a tuxedo (c'mon, go ahead and guess why). He introduced the GoHs and the Nifty Guests, most of whom were present, each of whom said at least a few words. When asked if he could dance, Bruce Schneier opted for the ConChair and Two Female GoHs Kickline (Peterson and Bear) response. Filker Tom Smith sang "March of the Penguicon" to commemorate Penguicon's fifth iteration, and he upheld his reputation as a sly, tricksy fellow with words and a guitar very well.

The DJ Brick dance was sparsely attended; apparently, it's the Saturday night dance most people will attend, not this one. However, this didn't bother me a bit, as I had dressed up to please myself and needed no one else to dance with, and in fact had the floor mostly to myself for the first 45 minutes. Not more than two dozen people total came and stayed for more than 10 minutes. One young man (younger than me, anyway) did as I did, and danced pretty much for the music and himself, and he was quite a good dancer. DJ Brick played all my music requests, and most everyone else's too, by the happy smiles on other dancers' faces. This is why con dances are so cool: you can go by yourself, with a partner or a group and have a great time. The youngers may be checking each other out, but I was there to dance, and dance I did; I stayed for over two hours, and hadn't planned for more than one.

I slipped in to Saturday's "Kaffeklatsche with Elizabeth Bear" just as it was getting started, and ended up sitting near Bear's end of the table. I'd brought my copy of her short-fiction collection, The Chains That You Refuse, in order to have something to ask questions about, in case other attendees ran out of ideas, but plenty of discussion ensued. At least a dozen people attended, including Bear's friend and sometime collaborator, Sarah Monette. The two writers spent some time discussing their collaborative efforts, and Bear spoke about the setttings of her Promethean Age books, researching the Shakespearean age, and answered questions. It was a relaxed, comfy version of Meet the Author, and everyone seemed to be pleased with the results. One woman admitted she'd be at the next panel Bear would be on, and said she hoped Bear didn't think she was being stalked, to which Bear replied, "Stalking can be good." I quipped, "You may regret saying that later."

After the Bear panel, I headed for the Computer Lounge to check email and read the news on Trufen.net, as well as make a brief from-the-con post there. I also read Peter Watts' Newscrawl, which was how I learned about SFWA president Howard Hendrix's very 'Net-public stand against Creative Commons licensing (he called writers who post their work under CCL online "scabs"), which provoked a storm of argument in protest. Follow me down this path for a moment: Isn't it odd that the president of the major (maybe even only) SF writers group is against a thing which has apparently increased print book sales for the writers (and one publisher, Baen) who've tried it so far? I mean, doesn't making one's fiction available through CCL pretty much amount to the same thing as browsing priviledges at the local bookstore? Here's another question: How much fiction has Howard Hendrix sold in the last three years? Hmmm. Do I smell sour grapes?...

By 4 p.m., the Con Suites were both in full swing, with at least three people on duty in the non-smoking suite at all times, likely due to all the special food events being held there, but also because there was TONS of food available. I heard someone say that over a hundred pounds of deli meats and cheeses were purchased for the weekend, and I think a store run had to be made by Sunday to get more. Understand, SF fen who are con-goers intend to stay awake as long as possible, in order to not miss anything that might be fun. The OS crowd stays awake all the time. ALL the time. I don't know when they sleep, if ever (are they they model for Nancy Kress' Sleepless, from Beggars In Spain? Who knows?).

The two con suites (one smoking, one non) were both fabulously stocked; the variety of items available, unexpected. The three fannish food groups (caffeine, salt, chocolate) were well-represented for the duration of the con, in more than one form each. I'd never heard of Open Cola before attending this con. What a concept! Caffeine came in coffee, colas, Penguin candies (the company is a sponsor), and chocolate, and smoking consuite (SC) maven Shar Nims told me that even after five years, she still has people unused to SF cons asking where they're supposed to pay for the consuite items. Poor dears. The amount of free (for paid attendees and guests) food and drink at this con would have staggered a medieval banquet staged for Henry VIII.

The nonsmoking consuite (NC) had medium to large crowds most times, probably because the liquid-nitrogen ice cream and Chupaqueso demos were held there, as well as the Brazilian steak service. This resulted in the NC suffering from over-programming at peak times ( LN ice cream sessions always brought a crowd), but the volunteers and con staff assigned to both suites powered through it all like worker ants. Plans afoot for next year to put the special food demos and services in their own room are in place for P6.0, which is a very good idea. Gophers and attendees alike will benefit from consuites that are less crowded.

Major props must be given to Shar Nims and Steve deHart, the smoking and non-smoking consuite ghods, respectively, for running what I can only describe as fabulous con suites. SF fen are used to finding coffee, hot water for tea, sodas and bheer (complete with Bheer Troll to check IDs so the concomm doesn't get hauled off to jail) to drink, and a variety of snackage and sandwich components to eat, along with perhaps some soup, chili, delivered pizza, and maybe hot dogs. This is not enough for the Penguicon crowd -- no, they had to have three types of coffee (regular, decaf, and something that probably amounted to jet fuel), bottled iced tea and bottled caffeinated & flavored waters in addition to all the other beverages, and the con's sponsor company, Penguin Caffeinated Mints and Energy Gum, provided several cases of their products in pocket tins that disappeared almost as fast as they were put out for the taking. Chocolates in penguin shapes and colors were offered and quickly snatched up. Crock pots, throughout the weekend, held everything from chili to meatballs to broccoli soup. Mountains of veggies piled on serving trays. No matter how crowded the consuites got, people were always (when I was there) friendly, accommodating, and willing to help even when not asked.

The special food events were, predictably, very popular. Liquid nitrogen ice cream tastes like standard ice cream, only kewler. Chupaquesos are fried cheese concoctions, to which meats and veggies can be added, made on an electric griddle. Brazilian steak is, well, what it says, but how it tastes...one will only know by trying it. Being a carnivore, I would give my right arm to have more of that steak.

This is the advantage of volunteering to work in the consuite: you get treated like a real person, with food and drink needs, by the Con Suite staff and your fellow gofers, and the special-foods events people will feed you. Copiously, if you let them. The pounds I shed on the dance floor Friday night could easily have been replaced in a few hours of working the con suites, if I'd eaten whatever I wanted. The lack of pre-packaged offerings was greatly appreciated; the smell of fresh food after four hours of playing Munchkin is irresistable.

The other advantage is that you get a chance to meet in person the people with whom you've only been in online contact. I managed to snag Eric Raymond's elbow long enough to introduce myself and remind him of why he might know my name (Steam Engine Time; long story, google it), and it was reassuring to see the light of recognition in his face.

The other place to meet people -- in this case, writers one admires -- is in the dealers room. Smart writers get to the dealers room at least once or twice during a con, because just being there is a great marketing tool for their work. The least stressful mode of doing this is for the writer to be wandering around the dealers room, and not sitting at a booth. This is how I came to have a copy of The Atrocity Archives signed by Charlie Stross. I recognized him, went up and complimented him on his T-shirt (I think it was the "Geek Orthodox" one, that day), and walked out later with a purchased, signed book.

After two hours of consuite work, I had to take a break. It was Work, too. I made a mental note that a sweatband for my forehead would have been of great use. Once I recovered with some rest, food, and water, I stopped at the signing table for Elizabeth Bear and Sarah Monette. I'd brought my copy of Bear's collection but, not having read any of Ms. Monette's work, I apologized that I didn't have anything of hers for her to sign. She was quite gracious about it. The three of us made small talk until their hour was up and it was time for them to grab some dinner.

"Technological Singularity? Or Technological Maximum?" featured panelists Charlie Stross, Christine Peterson, Karl Schroeder, and Eric Raymond. Occasionally high-flying (like way over my head) conversation between panelists and audience members on how valid Vernor Vinge's idea of the Singularity is now, and whether it's inevitable or not, included government, data processing,

the idea of the post-human, how the ability to multi-task on the Internet either improves or worsens a person's life, economics, fun hacks, and onward. Wish I'd gotten there for the start, although from the wide-ranging discussion, maybe it wouldn't have helped that much. Peter Watts' theories on mammalian behavior, specifically how activating the brain's pleasure centers keeps us doing certain things (Karl Schroeder called it "consciousness as masturbation," and I don't know whether those were his words or he was quoting Watts) and the idea that no pure altruism exists in the natural world, including among humans, were also explored. This panel did go off-topic here and there, and didn't really answer the panel question, but panel questions are often treated as discussion starting points.

During "Technology as Legislation," Karl Schroeder noted, "The Pill [was] the technological legislation of the female workforce," and I'd say he was right. Stross added that the advent of antibiotics beforehand made use of the Pill more feasible, because having the Pill without having antibiotics could have resulted in higher mortality rates (adult and infant, I would add) from STDs. Discussion veered off toward evangelistic tendencies in various human groups (Greens, religions, etc.).

The Mas-querade (hosted by Freon) was also new to me; I'd been to less than a handful of cons before this one, and never managed to attend a Masquerade at any of them. One guy walked by with a wireless Webcam on his hat, with a small screen underneath so you could wave at yourself. Never saw one of those at a con before, but they could become the next hot other-con item. At Penguicon, it just made sense. I was impressed by the level of skill and craft evident in many of the costumes. MarsDust.com's "Ivana" entry bore more than a passing resemblance to the "Metropolis" female robot, and deservingly won an award.

Mad Doc Geon" presented a computer-synched Robo Sapiens perfor-mance to the Run DMC and Aerosmith version of "Walk This Way," which was cheered by the audience. Seeing all those mechanical things (at least a dozen) moving together to music just blew my mind -- it was so SFnal! Then I was brought crashing back to reality by the appearance of the "catcher" -- the guy who wrangled the 'bots so they wouldn't fall off the platform. A great way to pass the judging period, certainly. "Holidays Go to Cannes" and "Ivana" tied for Best in Show, both worthy winners. A raffle was also conducted, and several people went home with some nice schwag.

The three hours in the smoking con suite (even though I don't smoke; the smell doesn't bother me at all) so Shar Nims could hit the evening's dance event were fairly quiet.

Too whacked from staying up late Saturday night, my only Sunday panel was the 1 p.m. "Counter-factual Universe," which turned out to be a well-done sort of RPG, with the panelists (Elizabeth Bear, Sarah Zettel and Tobias Buckell) acting as humans from other timelines (so to speak) and the audience trying to explain "real" humans and Earth to them. Each panelist maintained their role for at least half of the panel time (90 minutes). I arrived 10 minutes late due to having to rush to Registration to get my registration fee comped for completing 6 hours of volunteer time, and was slightly confused for a few minutes until I reviewed the panel description in the program book. Aha, I thought, they're channeling aliens. Well, no, Virginia, they weren't.

Counterfactual universe is the new buzz-phrase for alternate history, it seems, and it took quite a while for this to sink into my tired brain. But the panel worked no matter which way one viewed it (alien channeling or alternate human timelines), and the panelists maintained their roles quite well. It was my first experience with this sort of panel, and it seemed intended to amuse as well as inform how writers consider alternate timelines -- not to mention getting inside alien mind-sets.

Bear and Zettel carried their roleplay out to the audience by leaving their chairs and going to point out how some audience members were "transferring concrete matter" (taking notes) and "honoring other consciousnesses" (ribbons attached to con badges).

Charlie Stross was in the audience, and I had to restrain myself from squeeing with delight when I saw his T-shirt -- "International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day" -- as I'd read about its genesis only the day before in the Computer Lounge. Stross seemed quite delighted that his "minions" had answered his call and produced the shirt so he could wear it as close to the designated day as possible (April 23, after Penguicon concluded). Stross has, along with Watts, Cory Doctorow, and other writers, also used CCL to post his work for free on the Web. If he hadn't been wearing that T-shirt, the universe would have exploded. Or a lot of people would have bemoaned a kewl thing not done. Which is worse? You decide.

Hall events during Penguicon included a Robo Sapiens demo by Geon, belly dancing, and Tom Smith singing filk (rarely, as he always draws a crowd). There was also a patio event outdoors that had music in it, but I never went to see what it was about. I was resting on the hallway floor at that point, footsore and whupped.

I didn't experience any of stratification between the professional writers and their readers/fans reported by others at other cons. This may, in part, be because the writers invited (and attending on their own) are generally interested in talking to a variety of people, and have the sense to bring along a friend who can get them out of awkward situations when needed. The story of a fan holding a well-known writer hostage by standing on the writer's foot may be apocryphal, but the fan who buttonholes the writer for a long discussion about an essentially trivial point in a story is doing essentially that. Bear and Stross made themselves available quite often outside of panels, and in an Author GoH, that's something to be appreciated. I didn't see a lot of Karl Schroeder or John Scalzi, but that just means I didn't see them a lot; it's entirely likely they were as accessible to attendeed as their colleagues.

For my first time attending it, Penguicon felt very comfortable. Staff, guests and attendees with whom I had contact were uniformly personable, interested in conversation and willing to chat with anyone. It reminded me a great deal of my first Wiscon, and considering that that was the best con I'd yet attended in terms of welcoming feeling, that's saying a lot. Working in the con suites probably helped form that feeling for me, and I'd recommend the experience to anyone searching for a connection to the rest of Michigan fandom, or fen in general. Penguicon 5.0 was a well-planned, well-attended, well-run event, and I'd love to be able to attend P6.0 Maybe I'll see you there.