I don’t imagine I have to tell you a few changes have been made. You’ve seen them and now you’re reading this to get a few answers.

First, I’ve started running Scin on newsprint. This is for purely economic reasons. Although sales are climbing at The Illustrated Store, the bills are still about five strides ahead of them. My entire substanance comes from the store, so I can’t be spending enormous sums on Scin (money that should be spent on present bills). Second, I’ve reinstated book reviews in Scin. The majority of the reviews this issue are from the never-finished Fictum Miraculum #2 (FM was my first fanzine, for those who don’t know that already). I wanted to get the reviews to print as soon as possible, but was held up by a contribution I never did receive. I hope the people who did the reviews will forgive the delay. In the meantime, I’m asking for reviews to include in future issues of Scin. If you do submit reviews, be sure they are typed, double-spaced; I’m having a hard enough time with my eyes as it is. That reminds me of a point I’ll get to in a moment.

Third, I’ve changed to a three-column format. I noticed, while reading the last issue, that wider columns tend to slow a reader down. A narrower column is easier to eyetrack. The total area the eye can focus on at one time is about two inches. These columns are a bit over two inches, so when you read them, there’s a minimum or horizontal eye movement involved. Please let me know what you think of this change. In fact, I’d like to know what you think of all these changes.

Okay. Since the last issue I’ve had a couple of letters concerning the letter column itself. One was a protest from Ben Indick over the mutilation job I did (accidently) on his letter in Scin 9. The letter was a handwritten one, that’s my explanation. Dave Szurek has complained about being confined to the WAHF at the end of the lettercol. His letters are all hand-written. You see, the problem is that I can’t transcribe well from handwritten letters. I read them, but unless there is something extra-special said in the letter I don’t bother attempting to type them. If you write letters to me that are meant to go into print, at least try to type them. I feel a bit foolish asking for this, but there seems to be no reason to make transcribing

your letters difficult. I enjoy getting mail from you all; I read all of it. But please don’t feel I’m obligated to print your letter in Scin. I tried typing Ben’s letter. Look at the job I did on it.

Another thing. Nobody seemed to get very worked up over the Viking 1 landing, and the subsequent photographic and other information, on Mars. I’ve not seen an abundance of information from the media on it, and the landing didn’t appear to have made the front cover of any of the major magazines. What does the average person know about the project? Their curiosity was sated when they saw a few photographs it seems, and they didn’t bother finding more information on it. Could they if they wanted to? Has the media given the Viking project enough exposure? I think not; because ratings and sales on a Viking story are lower than a story about a natural disaster, or an unusual disease, or even what a stupid mistake Ronald Reagan make choosing Richard Schweiker. I think America, in general, wants to know more about what Liz Taylor is made up of rather than Mars. So, what can be done? Done? Nothing, really.

However, think what would happen if one day the people at NASA/JPL turned on the Viking cameras and noticed something on that beautiful pink horizon; a bump, a shape that wasn’t there the day before. What if it moved? What if we saw, from 46 million miles away, was a live thing on the surface of Mars? A shape that moves toward the vehicle, unsteadily; a blackish, somewhat humanoid, thing hobbling across that reddish, rock-strewn landscape. Moving closer until we could begin to make out the finer details of its form . . . Would any of us be worried about getting to work, meeting appointments, going to the supermarkets, or whatever? Hell, no. Most of us would be scared out of our minds, while the other less-neurotic would experience an incredible sense-of-wonder like nothing we’ve, any of us, felt with science fiction.

There’d be a lot of fast bible-thumping, and running around as if Michael Rennie has just landed in Central Park, but that only serves to make the whole experience more interesting. By God, there’s be no way Happy Days could out-rate that.

But it hasn’t happened. And the people aren’t interested. Rather than talk about whether they think Mars’ atmosphere holds enough nitrogen to sustain advance forms of life, they dither about every damned little thing from Pat Nixon’s stroke to Howard Hughes’ will. It would be nice if the media would bother to focus its commanding eye on the space program more. Then, I seem to forget the purpose of television as media; to feed its audience pre-digested

dreck so that no work is involved in absorbing it. Well, Amuuurrica, you’d better watch those teeth of yours. If they don’t get enough exercise, they’ll start dropping out in your food.

All in all, I suppose I should be overjoyed that there was a Viking mission, and leave it at that. Hmmm.

Damn. Here I am nearly to the end of my space and I’ve run out of things to say. I would like to thank Andy Porter in my editorial for mentioning The Illustrated Store in his editorial. We have seriously thought over the idea of an organized fan club here in Portland, Andy, but nothing has happened yet. You did, however, throw the stone which may start the avalanche.

Next issue will feature an article on George Alec Effinger by Richard Weholt (author of the Harlan Ellison article in issue four), a column (hopefully) from George himself, another column from John Shirley (he doesn’t go away that easily), and another interview with somebody (haven’t cornered anyone yet).

Me? I’ll be here too — with another rambling editorial and a new parody.

Last of all, I have a few thanks to hand around: thanks to Dan DePrez, Frank Herbert, Charlie Ryan and Tom Owen, John Shirley, the artists, especially Al Sirois, and to Dawn, who came in the nick of time.

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