by William Fuller
Because of some troubling
emotional problems related to science fiction, I started seeing Dr. Ackrabu about a year ago. He is one of
only a handful of counselors who specialize in sci-fi related disorders. I didn’t expect to have that many sessions
with him, but due to the nature of my issues, I ended up seeing him several
times a week through last January; it has now tapered off to once a week. His methods, admittedly, tend to the arcane,
but it feels like progress is being made.
At first I bristled at his “Absinthe Protocol” and “Mote in God’s Eye
Gambit”, but I must admit my “troubles” are less than they were a year ago.
At my session last week, besides
my more serious issues, I told him I was afraid of the upcoming Western Regional Science Fiction Convention, that
I hadn’t been to a convention in 30 years, knew virtually nothing about the
current literary “scene”, and that I couldn’t face what I felt would be a
humiliating and debilitating experience.
He listened intently, stroking his strong, attractive chin and rubbing
his protrusive, shaved head. After what
must have seemed like a huge whine-fest, he sat silently for a few moments. And then he spoke.
“There is only one way to
deal with this. It will not be easy, but
it is imperative that you follow my instructions. If you are successful, in addition to this
specific issue, it may have a far reaching positive impact on your other
problems. Of course you WILL attend the
convention. And you MUST read all five
2013 Hugo nominees before July 4. I know
you haven’t read any so far because you say you no longer read science
fiction. But this is what must be
done. Do you understand?”
I was incredulous. “Five books in one month? I can barely read one or two! How am I going to do that? I don’t have any idea what those books even are! I’ve probably never heard of the
authors! I barely even like science
fiction anymore! How will I find the
time…”
He raised a hand and shushed
me. “Do your research. Get the
books. Do the reading.”
He rose from his plush
chair. My appointment, evidently, was
over early.
“Man up, Mr. Fuller. You have a little over a month. Sci Fi is not for sissies.”
To Be Continued
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