Lectern’s New and Used Books bustled with holiday shoppers on a snowy weekday evening. The resulting noise level, though a bit of a nuisance for the seven teens curled up on wing chairs by the front parlor’s merrily crackling fireplace, did not greatly impede their group study session. It was only when a familiar voice, apparently asking questions of a store staffer, wafted from the direction of the retired bar serving as check-out counter that Twilight Sparkle looked up in mild surprise and adjusted her big squarish eyeglasses. Distracted by the movement, her companions glanced at her, then followed her gaze; Sunset Shimmer, whose back was to the entryway, levered herself up with one knee on her chair’s seat and laid a forearm across its back.
“Hey, Chips,” she called out in a friendly voice. “We haven’t seen you in here before, I don’t think.”
The skinny young man in open parka over turtleneck and slacks twitched; his expression upon turning was quizzical and uncertain. “Uh—h-hi, Sunset,” he half-stuttered.
“Oh, right.” Sunset rubbed her forehead with the hand not balancing her on the chair. “I don’t think I ever apologized about that lunch-money thing in the hallway, did I?”
Micro Chips blinked behind spectacles only slightly more stylish than Twilight’s before letting out a laugh that seemed to startle him as much as it did the girls. “I guess you just did. I’m sorry too.” His brow furrowed and he paused, mouth open, plainly reconsidering discussing magical shenanigans in a public place. “I kinda jumped to conclusions and didn’t give you a chance to explain, didn’t I?”
“Fair.” Sunset nodded.
Before she could continue, Twilight spoke up again. “So what brings you to Lectern’s? Sunset’s right—I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”
“Holiday gift shopping for the family and some friends.” One purplish hand held aloft a high-end smartphone, displaying what looked like a list of some sort, as Chips strolled closer and lowered his voice to a more conversational level. “With all us kids getting older, it’s getting harder to come up with ideas, so I’m trying to be more creative. Lectern’s has a pretty good reputation on the Web, and I figured, hey, I can probably find a book or something for almost anyone if I look for the right subjects, and get a lot of it done all at once. Couldn’t hurt to try, anyway, right?”
“Right,” Sci-Twi replied firmly through a broad grin. “I mean, look at the girls here. We’ve all found books to buy, and Mister Lectern does a really good job running the store.”
Chips cocked his head. “Does he really live upstairs?”
Twi nodded. “That’s the way it’s set up, as far as I know. I looked into the city records a couple of years ago, and there’s a waiver that lets the owner live on the premises as long as the business is operating and vice versa. Nobody I talked to knows how that happened—even back then, there were zoning laws that wouldn’t have allowed it, but the original owner must have talked the city into it somehow. I don’t think even Mister Lectern knows, because he bought the store from the family. They weren’t interested in running it, but they didn’t want to see it go away, either.”
“Huh. That’s a pretty strange little piece of history.” On the heels of this observation came a querulous ping from the smartphone still in his hand, and he lifted it for a brief squint at the screen. “I guess I should get going. Sorry. I’ll see you all later.” He turned away, hesitated, and pivoted back. “Oh yeah! Twilight, you might be interested. We won the Worldcon bid! I’m on the committee, and we’ll start meeting soon for planning.”
Twilight looked thrilled. “Really? A Worldcon, here? That’ll be great!” She thought a moment. “Of course, by then we’ll all be graduated from Canterlot High, and probably pretty busy with university, but if I can possibly make it I will. It’d be my first Worldcon, after all! Thanks for letting me know, Chips.”
Chips grinned and waved acknowledgement before moving off toward the back of the two-story bungalow and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that awaited.
Twilight found herself faced with six nearly identical expressions of baffled curiosity. Sunset spoke for all of them. “What’s Worldcon?”
“The World Science-Fiction Convention, the biggest and oldest SF con in the world!” Sci-Twi replied with enthusiasm. “This year’s Worldcon, three or four months ago, was the eightieth anniversary, I think. It started out as a small business conference for authors, publishers, and agents, with a few fans who had connections, but over the years it grew into a huge social gathering too, and the biggest awards for science fiction and fantasy have been presented there for more than sixty years. It inspired hundreds of other cons to start up all around the world—in some places a fan could go to a convention almost every weekend if they wanted to—though I’ve heard a lot of those old cons are gone now. They were the first fan conventions, so all the others you see these days, like the Daring Do conventions and stuff, exist because science-fiction fandom, uh, blazed the trail.” Her face heated slightly as the wilderness metaphor no doubt reminded her of her summer-camp beau, but her friends charitably chose to ignore the opportunity for a little ribbing.
“It sounds like a big party!” Pinkie observed to no one’s surprise.
“Partly,” Twilight replied. “But there’s a lot of other stuff going on too. There still is a lot of business: the dealers’ room, discussion panels on all kinds of subjects—some serious, some silly—the art show and auction, things like that. Some people wear costumes inspired by novels, or movies, or television shows, and there’s even a costume contest.” She ticked off other events and functions on her fingers. “And that’s just the official programming. It’s a good chance to meet up with long-distance friends or make new ones, and some people run ‘room parties’ in the evenings. It can get pretty hectic, though, so there’s a lot of ‘hi-bye’, too, from what I’ve heard.”
“Did you say a lot of ’em are gone now, Twi?” Applejack looked vaguely concerned. “What happened?”
“Oh. Yeah. I did say that.” Twilight’s mood dimmed a little. “The short answer is, the Internet. It got a lot easier to stay in touch with other fans, so going to the trouble and expense of attending conventions, especially ones that were far away, wasn’t as necessary. At the same time, science fiction and fantasy started to get more accepted as mainstream, so being a fan wasn’t as big a deal, and there wasn’t as much need for the social support of a dedicated community.”
After considering the downbeat picture her words conjured, she added hastily, “But there still are quite a few conventions out there—some with thousands of people, and some called ‘relaxicons’ because, with just a few hundred attendees, they’re not as frantic and busy. I’ve been to a few, both big and little, and they’re both great in different ways.”
Rainbow Dash leaned forward. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you have all that stored in your egghead, but wow that’s a lotta detail. And I didn’t know that’s where Daring Do conventions came from. I never really thought about it, but I guess I always figured they came outta nowhere.”
“Well, now you know,” Twilight told her, “and knowing . . .”
“. . . Is half the battle,” chorused several of them, followed by merry giggles.