Is science fiction just for kids? The negative answer is so obvious and so apparent from a cursory survey of the SF fan community that it still surprises me, when I tell someone about my interest in the genre, that he or she expresses that opinion. The other day a workmate exclaimed to me, "Oh, science fiction! Yes, my brothers are still into that, and they're 23 and 30 years old. Just like big kids!"
Little amateur psychology is required to construct a plausible reason for the persistent attribution of juvenility to SF readers and viewers (at least in Western countries). SF and fantasy are categorised in the popular mind as a form of "make believe", to be left behind in the playground when children grow up and enter the real world. Other genres of entertainment deemed equally escapist, such as the thriller and the action adventure, nevertheless seem to escape the imputation of being childish simply because their setting approximates to present reality.
Yet if it is juvenile to find interest and entertainment in the interactions of characters in a fantastic setting, we should admire children for their open-mindedness and intelligence. Readers (and viewers) of mainstream non-SF are challenged only to transcend the barriers of known time and place. To transcend the bounds of currently possible time and place also asks much more of the reader. And as we all know, it gives much more to the reader as well.
Turning to administrative matters, back issues of Ibn Qirtaiba are now available from the editorial address below. For a limited time only, the price has been reduced to $1.50 per issue - a saving of 40%. Back issues will be mailed flat if you order more than one, or if you are a current subscriber and are willing to wait for the back issue to be posted with your next subscription issue. Otherwise, back issues will be mailed folded.
Over the past two years, IQ's series of feature articles on Worlds of Fandom has examined a few of the cult TV series around which organised SF fandom largely revolves today. This issue's feature on the big-budget American series Babylon 5 will be the last Worlds of Fandom article for the time being. Next issue, our regular focus turns from media to literary SF, as a new series of articles commences under the banner "Fiction Archives". Each article in this series will feature a classic SF novel from the vaults, from the Golden Age to the present. As always, submissions are welcome at the editorial address below.
Worlds of Fandom: Babylon
5
Space station Babylon 5 came on line in the year 2257 in an
area of neutral space set between rival alien empires. The
television series of the same name came on line in the year 1992
in a television market newly saturated with American SF product. 
The
pilot episode The Gathering nevertheless managed to
generate sufficient interest for Warner Brothers to commission a
full 22 episode season that debuted in January 1994.
The show's high-profile creator, executive producer and principal writer is Joe Michael Straczynski. Straczynski is Babylon 5's unchallenged auteur, even more so - if possible - than Star Trek's late Gene Roddenberry. Unlike Roddenberry, Straczynski is an SF writer and fan of long standing, who stays in touch with his audience through the Internet discussion group, rec.arts.sf.tv.babylon5.
His centrality to the production of the series lies in his innovative use of "holographic storytelling"; essentially a technique of unfolding a larger narrative within self-contained hour-long episodes. It is Straczynski's responsibility to keep the larger narrative on track, by providing viewers of each episode with insights into what has gone before and what is to come.
Babylon 5 can lay claim to a few other innovations also. Not least, it is the first television series to take full advantage of the new generation of computer-generated model work and special effects as seen in movies such as Terminator 2, The Lawnmower Man and Jurassic Park.
As viewers of seaQuest DSV will attest, special effects
alone do not make good science fiction, but thankfully Babylon
5's scripts do not disappoint either. 
The series is set in
a troubled universe at the dawn of a new age of fragile peace.
Most of the species present on space station Babylon 5 have been
at war with one another in the recent past; most notably, the
Earth Alliance and the Minbari, whose war ended with the sudden
surrender of the Minbari ten years before the series begins.
Exactly why the Minbari surrendered at the so-called Battle of
the Line on the verge of defeating the Earth Alliance is one of
the mysteries of the series not solved until the second season.
The Earth Alliance's Babylon Project was an attempt to prevent the recurrence of interstellar war by providing a place for the ambassadors of the rival species to negotiate and trade in neutral territory. The previous four Babylon stations having mysteriously disappeared or been destroyed, Babylon 5 is now, as the title sequence voiceover states, "our last, best hope for peace."
The main characters of the series are the humans who staff
Babylon 5 and the four alien ambassadors. The humans are
represented by Commander Jeffrey Sinclair (who is replaced by
Captain John Sheridan in season 2), Security Chief Michael
Garibaldi, telepath Talia Winters,
second in
command Susan lvanova and the resident doctor Stephen Franklin.
As for the ambassadors, G'Kar represents the reptilian Narn regime. The Narn were once ruled by the Centauri Republic, a species whose society is reminiscent of feudal Europe, and who are represented by the pompous Londo Mollari. Delenn is a member of the ruling Grey Council of the Minbari Federation - although the reason why such an powerful political figure has been assigned an ambassadorial post is another mystery with which the series begins. Finally Kosh, whose true form we never see due to the environment suit he wears, represents the Vorlons, the most advanced race present on the station.
Despite inevitable comparisons with Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Babylon 5 is a very different series in style and tone which has attracted its own loyal following. Since the series' first five-year "story arc" still has three years to go, loyalty is something that Babylon 5 viewers are required to possess in abundance.
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It is probably fair to say that SF writers failed to predict the development of anything quite like the Internet. This may be because they did not see computers as communications devices so much as logical electronic brains.
Ironically, early SF writers had no such trouble in perceiving the potential of human brains for long-distance communication and information retrieval. For instance, in Frank Herbert's novel Dune, Reverend Mothers of the Bene Gesserit and others who took the Water of Life acquired the memory-lives of all their forbears, giving them the ability to communicate with prior generations and access to their memories and experiences.
Nevertheless computer culture and SF culture have been intertwined ever since they were both perceived as ghettos for nerdy bespectacled teenagers. Just as computers have always been a favourite topic for SF writers, SF is a favourite topic among computer users as well. For instance, the large UNIX computers at universities on which the Internet evolved were also fora for some of the first ever computer games, two of which were the space simulation Star Trek and the tactical game variously called Robots or Daleks.
Nowadays the range of SF material stored in the archives of large computers is far greater than ever before. The information available includes graphics, reviews, debates, synopses and sound files, and it all is accessible to anybody with an modem and an Internet account. This article contains a concise list, by no means complete, of some of the resources available.
Usenet is a collection of several thousand electronic discussion groups covering a broad range of popular and obscure topics. SF is extremely well represented amongst these, with many groups receiving dozens of postings every day from across the world. There are a number of different newsreaders that are used in different ways. If you use VN like me, press capital "G" and type in the name of one of the newsgroups below to go to that newsgroup, then press the appropriate lower case letters to select the articles you wish to read, and press the space bar to page forward.
FTP stands for File Transfer Protocol, which is a way of transmitting computer files between computers attached to the Internet. Anonymous FTP describes the way that the general public may log on to many FTP servers, namely by using "anonymous" as the log-on name and their email address as the password.
The sites are listed here in URL format, which is used by World Wide Web clients such as Lynx, Mosaic and Netscape. It is not necessary to log on as "anonymous" using these programs, because they will do so for you. If you use a dedicated FTP client to access FTP sites, open a connection to the address between the oblique slashes (eg. frontios.niagara.edu) and then change to the directory listed thereafter (eg. /pub/doctor_who).
The World Wide Web is the Internet service responsible for the explosion in its popularity that began in early 1994. The reason is that the Web is much simpler to use than FTP, telnet or email, and can produce graphics, sound and real-time animation on computers with an appropriate connection. If you use Lynx, the most important keys to remember in navigating the World Wide Web are the right arrow to follow a link (which usually appears as a highlighted word) and the left arrow to go back. If you use any other program simply click on the word with your mouse.
http://www.astro.lsa.umich.edu/
users/sewin/continuum/ (Star Trek)Apart from enabling you to send messages to other Internet users around the world, you can also use email to add your name to the mailing list for numerous discussion groups and electronic journals (or e-zines). This is done by sending your request to subscribe to the group or e-zine in an ordinary email message. Because the request is read by computer and processed automatically, it is important to type it in accurately. Some of the better known SF e-zines are listed here with instructions on how to subscribe to them. Subscriptions are, of course, free.
Good luck netsurfers! If you find any other sites on the Internet
that you think SF SIG members should know about, email me a
message c/- imalcolm@cowan.edu.au.
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The story so far: Mark Heydon was about to transmat from Perth to Singapore when the operator of the transmat started shooting at him. A fight ensued and Heydon accidentally killed her. He fled the scene in a panic. Meanwhile, apparently in Singapore, Heydon is questioned by the police about the shooting, which he claims to know nothing about. Back in Perth, Heydon escapes the scene of the crime and retreats to his favourite cafe. He there meets his other self and discovers that although the transmat transmitted him to Singapore, it did not destroy the original copy of his body in Perth. The other Heydon has been charged with murdering the transmat operator, and tries to convince his counterpart to surrender to the police. Failing this, he tries to summon the police to the cafe, but Heydon flees. With no-one else to turn to, he tells his tale on current affairs television.
"Thanks for coming in Mark; I'm afraid we've run out of time."
Heydon ignored him. "Do you know what happens to the ashes? Each of us - everyone who has ever used a transmat - is a walking graveyard! We're made up of other people's flesh! Other people's snot, other people's bile, other people's shit!"
Mike Carr broke in hurridly. "We'll take a break now and be right back." The lights dimmed and the presenter earnestly scribbled a zig-zag on the note-pad on his desk. The lights came up again, and he said "Oh, Christ."
He had achieved nothing, Heydon brooded sullenly over coffee in the television station's canteen. He would be seen as a crank, and nobody would pay any attention to him. He probably was a crank, since he himself hadn't found anything wrong with transmats until a few days ago. He had never liked them, but then he didn't like lifts either, and he had never seen fit to appear on television denouncing them. Then again, he thought, a lift had never ruined his life.
"Mr Heydon?"
Heydon looked up from his coffee at an imposing figure dressed in a black suit. The figure gazed at him with pale eyes set deep in a wrinkled face. "I've been waiting for you," it said.
Heydon gaped for a moment, half expecting the figure to produce a scythe. Then he realised that his instinct was not far wrong. He had just broadcast his location to hundreds of thousands of television viewers. This was surely a detective police constable come to arrest him. For lack of any better response, Heydon decided to act innocent. "Waiting for me?"
"For three years," the figure assured him. Ever since the inaugural transmat journey from New York to Beijing."
In what was becoming a distressingly familiar experience, Heydon once again resigned himself to confusion. "Are you here to arrest me?"
"Arrest you? I'm here to congratulate you. Until your broadcast tonight, nobody else had dared voice the truth. I myself have been treated as a crackpot for attempting to do so. My League is still very small."
"Your League?" Heydon repeated.
"The Libertarian Humanist League. Dr Julian Asqui, President." He extended his hand, which Heydon took. "We fight the dehumanisation of social life. Transmats epitomise this phenomenon. More than any other modern convenience, transmats strike at the very essence of our humanity. They are quite literally soul-destroying. You said as much yourself."
"Did I?" Heydon asked, wondering whether he might have overstated his case before the cameras.
"Oh, yes. Transmats may be able to recreate human bodies cell by cell, but the soul of the poor human who was destroyed is lost forever. The body which is replicated at the other end is a husk... a soulless being. Barred from the afterlife."
"I see," Heydon observed, somewhat inadequately, as he thought. Dr Asqui continued in an animated voice.
"Now that you have publicised our cause as we could not, the time is right. Instransit will fall within before the year is out. But we need help. Nobody knows me, and the League is viewed as just another conservative pressure group. You, on the other hand - and if you'll forgive me - are simply an ordinary man who has discovered the threat that high technology poses to us all. People will listen to you, in their thousands. In their millions."
Heydon almost laughed out loud, invisioning himself - a computer technician - as spokesman for an anti-technology group. "No. I don't want to be a hero. I just want to get my life back together."
"Of course. But will you join us for a few days? That's all it will take for the momentum to build. Come with me now and I'll give you a bed. In the morning I will introduce you to the Vice-President of the League. I guarantee you, people will listen to us now. They will have no choice. Then you can get back to your life, with an entire nation behind you."
Heydon opened his mouth to refuse, but couldn't think of any reason to give. After all, he did need somewhere to sleep while he was a wanted man, as he assumed he still was. And he did care about what transmats were doing to people. Convinced that he would regret what he was about to do, he said, "Yes. I'll join you, for a few days." Then he smiled. "Let's trash some transmats."
Dr Asqui clapped his arm around Heydon's shoulder as he led him out of the canteen.
Heydon awoke to hear his name being spoken on an early morning news programme on a TV in an adjoining room. His fifteen minutes of fame, he thought glumly. He raised himself and yawned. Dr Asqui had set up a bed for him in a spare room and left him some toiletries. Heydon availed himself of them before joining Dr Asqui before the television, which was now showing a story about a painting cat.
"Mr Heydon!" Dr Asqui beamed. "It's started," he said gleefully, handing Heydon the morning newspaper, "Even sooner than I expected." The newspaper was folded over to display a headline, which read "Other People's Flesh Claim Shocks Catholics". Heydon scanned the article, which summarised Mike Carr's interview with him the previous evening, and added that a representative of the Catholic church "had been unaware" and "was disturbed" by the mechanics of the transmat process, and had promised that "the church would carefully consider its position".
As he read on, the doorbell sounded, and Dr Asqui answered it. "Natasha, good morning. He's here - come in."
A severe woman entered the room carrying a briefcase. She was in her forties, with short dark hair and two badges on her black jacket. One badge bore the name of the Libertarian Humanist League and a picture of a what appeared to be a forearm, fist clenched, shackled with an optical fibre cable. The other badge displayed a black and red design which Heydon could not identify.
She nodded curtly at him and said, "Natasha Morris. Glad to meet you."
"Mark Heydon," he replied.
"Miss Morris is the Vice-President of the League," Dr Asqui informed him, as she set her briefcase on the table and examined its contents. "She will be joining us this morning."
"Joining us where? Where are we going?"
"To the transmat terminal. For the first battle of the war." He seemed about to reveal more, but finished simply, "I've invited the media, so you may wish to prepare a statement."
Natasha was at the door again. "No time. We should leave now. I'll be in the car waiting for you."
"She's very keen," Dr Asqui apologised as he followed her and motioned for Heydon to do the same. Bemused but curious, he joined them in the silver car that growled impatiently in the driveway. Natasha's face bore no expression as she steered the car towards the transmat terminal from which Heydon had been running.
As they approached the building, Heydon noted a van from Mike Carr Live and a radio station's car in the terminal's sparsely occupied car park. "I hope they're not expecting a mass demonstration," he observed to his companions. "Why didn't you bring the rest of your League along?"
"In time," Dr Asqui assured him, "but first we need to let them know who we are." The car stopped in a side street and its passengers stepped out. Natasha Morris silently led the way with briefcase in hand, followed by Dr Asqui and Heydon. Some distance from the entrance, Dr Asqui instructed him, "You stay outside and speak to the journalists, while we have a word to the management of this terminal." As his companions left him, Heydon wondered what he had let himself in for.
He stopped when he reached Mike Carr's van and was immediately accosted by a journalist with cameraman in tow. "Mr Heydon," the suited reporter barked, "Religious and medical groups are currently discussing the ethical implications of transmat use; the Catholic church is believed to have referred the issue to the Vatican. Do you believe that transmats are going to join contraceptives and abortion as the new Catholic taboo of the twenties?"
"I have no idea," Heydon replied, flustered, "I'm not a Catholic."
Another journalist appeared, and demanded, "Do you say that transmats should be banned, or should people have freedom of choice?"
"I don't think that they need to be banned. When it becomes possible to construct transmat machines on a larger scale they will be useful for the transportation of goods. But if I have my way, people will think twice before transmatting their own bodies from place to place."
"Mr Heydon," the first journalist insisted, "what did you come here to prove today?"
"Well, two friends of mine have gone inside the building to confront the management of Instransit about the issues..." Heydon broke off as the other journalist dashed inside the terminal to cover this latest story. After a moment's hesitation and an apologetic look, the first journalist followed him. Left alone again, Heydon pondered the fickleness of celebrity.
Shortly Dr Asqui and Natasha Morris emerged from the terminal and set off back to the car at a brisk pace. Heydon ran after them. "Is that it?" he asked. "What happened?"
"We've made our mark," Dr Asqui said mysteriously. "Watch the evening news tonight."
Heydon objected, "The media may be interested now, but in a few weeks they'll have forgotten all about it. Transmats are too useful to be killed by a little bad press. If things are going to change, there needs to be a groundswell. I don't think enough people are listening yet."
"I'm not so sure, Mr Heydon. I think people will listen. This time, they will listen."
They walked on as Heydon considered Dr Asqui's remark. Then his heart stopped as he noticed that Natasha was no longer carrying her briefcase.
Across the road, the walls of the transmat terminal erupted on the crest of a ball of roaring flame.