Surprise, people: I’m a hardcore science fiction fan.

I’ve been heavily invested in the genre ever since childhood, and I place 99% of the blame for this on my old man. (The other 1% was my natural childhood fascination with all things scientific.) You see, my father read a lot of science fiction novels when he was growing up, and when I was a kid, I rifled though his endless boxes of them. It was here that I learned about all of the classic science fiction writers. Science fiction television and film may be great, but anyone worth their salt knows that the absolute best in science fiction is always found in book form. (And given my disappointment with recent science fiction television, I’ve been delving even more into books lately.)

If it was in those boxes, I read it. I’m sure I’m forgetting quite a few, but just to rattle off some names: Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Poul Anderson, James P. Hogan, Robert Heinlein, Philip K. Dick, Arthur C. Clarke, Frederick Pohl, Ursula K. LeGuin, Larry Niven, Cordwainer Smith, Clifford D. Simak…seriously, just pick a legendary science fiction author, and I can guarantee that I’ve read at least a few of their books thanks to my father’s collection and the local libraries. My father was also responsible for introducing me to the Dune saga, and I’ve been [Maker] hooked ever since. My home library of Frank Herbert’s works now spans an entire shelf!

I’m telling you, I filled my head to the brim with that stuff, especially hard science fiction. It was so chock-full, it’s a wonder I was able to process other more important items, like schoolwork, eating, and breathing. Even my favorite comic book characters, like Green Lantern, Iron Man, Firestorm, and Adam Strange are all completely based in the realm of science fiction! When I was a kid, no one else was into the genre, but that didn’t really register; in retrospect, I suppose it made sense that the other kids were more interested in sports and video games than a bunch of dusty old books.

I’ve kept up on my passion for science fiction throughout my entire life. I enjoy a wide variety of science fiction television, film, and other media. I’ve also gotten into the “new breed” of science fiction writers over the years, like Neal Stephenson and Timothy Zahn, as well as picking up novels by classic authors that I missed, such as E. E. “Doc” Smith’s Lensman series and the works of Richard Matheson.

Nowadays, science fiction is arguably more popular then ever, primarily in the film and television realms. Regardless, I find myself standing apart from my peers when it comes to the span of my familiarity with the genre. This is not a holier-than-thou proclamation, simply a statement of fact. I’ve just noticed that most of my peers aren’t into science fiction to begin with, and the ones that do enjoy the genre rarely (if ever) explore the breadth of the material out there, especially its written form. (The latter certainly isn’t their fault, as most people don’t read for pleasure these days as it is!) This unfamiliarity can be personally frustrating, as when I try to have engage in conversation about much of this stuff, I get blank stares.

I don’t understand why someone would refer to themselves as a fan of a genre when they have very little experience with it, or sometimes refuse to experience anything but a few small pieces. To use a non-fandom example, it would be like someone who’s read a medical textbook calling themselves a doctor. Now, this is different than being a fan of a specific property within a genre, or even a subgenre. There’s fans of the Star Trek film that came out last year, but who do not consider themselves fans of the Star Trek franchise in general. I’m also not trying to say that any self-proclaimed science fiction should check out and enjoy every new bit of genre material that comes along, either. We all know that like any other genre of fiction, there’s an extreme amount of absolute shit when it comes to science fiction.

Obviously, other hardcore science fiction fans do exist out there, and the Internet would provide the best way to connect with them. However, as with most things, I’m very reluctant to join Internet forums and the like devoted to science fiction. Intelligent discussion I can handle; fanboyism and nerd debates I can not. As we know, that’s what a majority of message board topics devolve into, so I tend to stay the hell out. Another idea would be science fiction conventions, but those can be very scary places. There’s not much left after that, but I’ve gotten along just fine so far, so I’ll just have continue forging the path alone.

I never understood many peoples’ compulsion in which they feel that they have to go out on a Friday or Saturday night. I saw this shit all of the time way back in college, but astonishingly I still see it happening a decade later in the “real world.” Perhaps people feel like they are less of a “normal” person if they don’t go out each and every weekend, but this behavior is patently ridiculous. If you’re that concerned about what others think of you based on how often you go out for boilerplate social activities, then that honestly makes you rather shallow to begin with. You should never base your self-worth on the approval of others!

Let me use myself as a guinea pig here. I’ve long ignored social expectations, as I simply don’t think my personal life should be defined by the masses. At the end of the week, I’m ready to unwind just as much as the next person. However, I never feel compelled to attend a social gathering in order to do so; there’s loads of ways in which I can relax without falling into a strict social expectation. If I want to go out to some event I’m interested in, I will; if not, who cares? I suppose I’d be admonished as a “nerd” if I chill out on the couch and watch Caprica on a Friday evening (and before that, it was Battlestar Galactica), but after a long week of work, studying, juggling chores, and going to the gym, relaxing with some intellectually stimulating media is perfect downtime. Why should I go out and shout to be heard over the mindless drivel at some crowded bar, just because that’s what society or “most people” say I’m “supposed” to do with a weekend? (The fact that I don’t drink also factors into it, but that’s not the primary point.) I get out plenty as it is, but that’s only at a time and place of my choosing, not that of the rest of the population.

Aside from being stupid, that lemming-like socially dictated behavior that far too many people subscribe to is counterproductive. Relaxing is all about doing what you want to do in order to wind down, not what other people demand. If you’re acceding to others’ wishes, then you’re subconsciously stressing, which in turn invalidates the entire idea! Believe me, I’ve known many an introvert who is a far more capable human being than these weekend warriors.

Very few people are unfamiliar with the legendary children’s story, The Little Engine That Could. It’s been around in one form or another for over a century, and it’s considered to be a classic example of the triumph of willpower over adversity. It may be a celebrated children’s story, but don’t let the hype blind you: there’s some questionable shit in here.

While numerous versions of the tale exist, today we’ll be examining the version commonly seen in book form, retold by “Rowdy” Watty Piper. (That’s not even a real person, mind you; it’s just a pseudonym used by the publisher, Platt & Munk.) Even more specifically, we’re using the 1976 Golden Anniversary Edition, with illustrations by Ruth Sanderson.

(When I was a little kid, I had the 1961 edition with illustrations by George and Doris Hauman, but that’s been lost to the sands of time. I even had a 45rpm record of the story, and who the hell knows what happened to that thing.)

Anyway…all aboard!

The story begins as a train filled with toys, games, snacks, and other goodies is heading towards town. Once there, its cargo will be distributed to the local children. Being a children’s story, of course, all of the toys as well as the train’s locomotive are sentient beings, which is downright creepy. And yes…there are clowns. Seriously, check out this creepy little bastard!

You know he’s plotting to knife some kid in their sleep, or drag them down into the sewers below Derry, Maine. But let’s get back to the story. Unfortunately, their red 4-4-0 steam locomotive breaks down right before the last mountain she needs to scale. The dolls, clowns, and other toys can’t repair the broken locomotive themselves, so they have no choice but to hang out and wait for another engine to come along so they can beg it to take them over the mountain. Did it ever occur to them to just send someone back along the train’s route to find help? What if another engine never came along?

Well, their luck holds out, as a Shiny New Engine comes along shortly. While the front end of this locomotive looks like a GG1, it’s got loads of small driving wheels with connecting rods. It’s clearly a steam engine, but of indeterminate type. Anyway, the toys ask the engine for help, and it declares that it’s a Passenger Engine that only takes important adults from place to place. It couldn’t possibly demote itself to pulling a bunch of toys and kids’ stuff! The Passenger Engine takes off, leaving the saddened toys by the rails. What a dick.

After being spurned by the Passenger Engine, the group’s next chance at assistance is a Big Strong Engine. This one’s a 2-6-0 steam locomotive, and he rumbles that he’s a Freight Engine. His job is to haul big machines and printing presses to town, so that adults will have their morning papers and other such necessities. Like the Passenger Engine before him, the Freight Engine also tells the toys to fuck off.

It should be noted that each of the engines that came down the tracks did so alone. This is practically unheard of on a railroad! Sending out a locomotive without any trailing cars is a colossal waste of resources. The only time a locomotive goes without cargo is if it’s in need of serious repair, and even then, it’s always got another locomotive pushing or pulling it. Which makes the tale of the next candidate all the more depressing.

Things aren’t looking good for our group of kids’ playthings. Then, along comes a Rusty Old Engine. An antique 4-4-0 steam engine, this poor bastard’s all alone, too, and he’s lucky to squeak his way down the rails. When begged for help, he says that he can barely get back to his roundhouse for repairs, and he sadly trundles off, leaving the toys in an even deeper state of despair. Cripes, why don’t you make the old goat feel bad about it? Unlike the other two douchebag engines, at least this guy’s not being arrogant. Far from it; he’s fully accepting of his own physical limitations. Still, it’s implied that he’s just yet another engine that won’t do the job, and we should pity the toy train more than him! Is this the level of disrespect we should feel towards our elders?!

Ahem. At long last, a small blue 4-2-4 steam locomotive comes down the tracks. She’s a switcher used at the local yard to assemble trains that bigger engines will take on their way, and hardly the type used to haul cargo over long distances. Still, the toys are desperate, and she agrees to the job, repeating her mantra of “I think I can.” The mountain grade is rough, and the little blue engine strains to her limits. Against all odds, she manages to pull the train over the top of the mountain, and the delivery is made to the waiting children in town.

Happy ending, right? But…whatever happened to the original locomotive that pulled the train? The toys didn’t even bother to send for help, or ask any of the other locomotives to ask for assistance once they got where they were going. They just left their original engine to rot! Disloyal little fuckers, aren’t they? No wonder the Passenger Engine and Freight Engine brushed ‘em off. Perhaps the toys’ reputation preceded them.

As you can see, while the tale of will versus adversity is prevalent, The Little Engine That Could still has a seedy underbelly. The other engines seemed like assholes, but the laziness of the toys is just as clear, and given their ignorance of the original engine, I can hardly blame the other engines’ actions. I doubt they’d want to be worked to death then left behind, either. I pity the little blue engine…she’s in for a rough life, if the fate of the red engine is any indication.

Out of the blue, I remembered a conversation I had with a friend of mine a while back about a regional comic book/scifi/fantasy/gaming convention she had attended. (No, it wasn’t the Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con.) I asked her how the show went upon her return, and she replied that it was mediocre; there weren’t many dealers or booths, and the crowd was mainly “lower-caste geeks.” I wasn’t quite sure what that term meant, so I asked for more details. She told me this group was composed of stereotypically overweight anime fangirls and World of Warcraft obsessives.

Now, this post is not meant to claim that my friend is somehow an elitist for placing one group of geeks below another; her “lower-caste” term was clearly meant as a joke, as she was just fishing for a funny term to describe the crowd. (She’s a comic book cosplay nerd herself, so she didn’t really “fit in” with most of the other patrons.) Instead, I want to examine an interesting trend that’s been growing exponentially in geek circles over the past decade: subdivision of the overall geek crowd into smaller groups (a caste system, if you will), the game of one-upmanship that accompanies this behavior, and the absolute irony of the entire process.

Heated debates between geeks is nothing new; you could trace ‘em all the way back to Star Trek versus Star Wars arguments in the late 1970s, and I’m sure there were Flash Gordon diehards who disliked John Carter of Mars even further back. However, what bound everyone together was their love of the source material, and in the end, that was all that was important. In recent years, that common bond has been eroding, and the geeks have no one to blame but themselves.

With growing frequency, geeks are cramming one another into a caste system of their own making. My friend’s joke nonwithstanding, this is a very real and serious situation: geeks in one group are demonizing the other, but not out of the good-natured rivalry seen in the past. Geek subcultures literally hate each other now, and often consider certain groups “beneath” them as far as the nerdy social strata are concerned.

This is the colossal irony I spoke of. Geeks and nerds have always complained that they’re a misunderstood and maligned social group, shunned by the rest of the world. Well, look at what they’re doing with this caste system: the exact same thing! So, not only are they maligned as a whole, they’re actively pushing some of their own peers even lower down the social scale, making the entire problem even worse. How fucked up is that?

The Internet has certainly contributed to the caste system in a big way; just as it has brought nerds together, it also drives mountainous wedges between them. Case and point: video game console flame wars, which have gotten far uglier than even the famous Sega and Nintendo rivalry in the early 1990s. Now, we’ve got entire sites and forums devoted to elevating one nerdy hobby while bashing another. All this truly accomplishes is making geeks look even worse in the eyes of everyone else!

I’ve always been of the mind that you shouldn’t hate an entire group; just specific people inside said group that personally piss you off. For example, I can’t stand all of that Twilight shit, and I think the fan fervor over it is incredibly annoying…but I have friends who are into it, and I’d never consider myself “better” than them as a result.

Having said that, if a Twilight diehard nearly knocks me down at the bookstore in their frenzy to score yet another generic young adult novel, they’re going to get an earful of rage.

You all know how much I hate spoilers. Many of my peers share this belief, but it seems that a majority of people do not. Spoilers are all the rage, and not a day goes by where some hotly-anticipated television plot or upcoming film script isn’t spoiled on the internet by greedy fans.

Nowhere is this behavior more prevalent than in comic book fandom. Legions of message boards and websites are devoted to spoiling upcoming issues and plots, weeks (and sometimes months) before their release. In fact, I’d wager that the amount of comic book nerds hunting for spoilers far surpasses those who do not. Which of course begs the logical question: if you’re going to rabidly seek out spoilers, then why bother even reading comics in the first place? You’re obviously not that interested in experiencing the story from month to month, as was intended.

It’s been pointed out to me that some spoilers are “impossible” to avoid, such as those printed in the monthly PREVIEWS catalog put out by Diamond Comic Distributors. Is this catalog full of spoilers? Absolutely. But there’s a legitimate reason for this: the PREVIEWS catalog is an advance order book designed for comic book shop owners so that they know how many of a particular book or other piece of merchandise to order. However, you don’t have to dig through it for spoilers! In fact, I skip past the entirety of the comics listings in the catalog for that exact reason. So don’t tell me that those spoilers are a given; you can avoid them just as easily as I can. The closest we come to “impossible” spoilers are when something’s printed on PREVIEWS‘ cover. For example, the villain behind DC Comics’ Blackest Night crossover was spoiled a few months in advance of his in-series appearance due to a PREVIEWS cover promo, but the few readers that complained about it were drowned out by the rabid cheers of fanboys.

I’m sure the ending of stories like Blackest Night are already well known amongst the basement-dwellers, even though the final issue isn’t due out until the end of March. I’m perfectly comfortable waiting until then; I don’t know why so many of these losers just can’t learn simple patience.

(Note: This entry is crossposted to The Indigo Tribe.)