On the weekend of December 2nd, I was thinking of something to put here describing my ideas of what afp would be if it were real. Lo and behold a thread came up on the very topic. One particular post conveyed some of what I felt, but I thought it needed more. Many may accuse me of vanity in putting this here on a web-page, but I like what I wrote and want to keep it, Deja being far too unsafe these days.
The message-id for all of this is: Xns900771408dgold6666@zakalwe.indigo.ie
T J Wilkinson wrote in <3a3565b5.1022084@news.xtra.co.nz
>: >On Thu, 07 Dec 2000 17:17:04 GMT, melcha >(moustachios@purpleturtle.com) wrote: >
>>Sorry if this has been done before...
>>I haven't been here long, but when I'm on afp, I get the impression of a huge room with very full bookshelves lining the walls. There are tables scattered around, heaped with plates of chocolate and surrounded by very comfy chairs. The chairs are occupied with an interesting variety of people, except for one, which instead holds a very insulted-looking cat.
>>So...What do you picture when you think of afp? If anything, I mean.
>A student party in a cheap, run down flat, with groups spilling out outside and some people in the kitchen armed with a food processor making up cocktails from beer.
Ach no, the run-down flat idea is way too 1980's. Maaike's idea of one great room reminds me far too much of Hogwart's Common Rooms which I have always felt to be far too unimaginative.
My own idea of the setting of afp would have to be something along the lines of one of those Clubs - old english ones dating back to Elizabethan times - due to the alleged subject matter. The door is a small unobtrusive one, set on a street with multiplicities of Sweet shops, stores selling leathermans (leathermen?) psions etc, at least three massive bookstores catering to the omnivorous appetites of the denizens of the Club. The Club itself extends behind each of these stores and back for some considerable distance.
As one approaches the oaken door it is quietly and gently opened by Igor, who will take your coat with various accessories and open the door into the reading room, from where the rest of the Club may be accessed. This reading room follows Maailke's ideas in a way, soft leather chairs around a room filed with bookshelves and plants. Little discussion takes place there, save on those times when the news of the world outside (supplied by the hundreds of newspapers and periodicals delivered every day) causes some apprehension and commotion amongst the members. There are several doors leading from this Reading Room, each differently featured and purposed.
To the left of the Reading Room lies an open archway - the doors here have long since stuck open - which leads one to the real library. In the Reading Room Pterry's works form the principal store of the shelves, as is right and proper, but here in the Library can be found the vast store of other materials used by afpers for their innumerable debates, for cross-checking annotations and so forth. The Library itself also has an audio-visual centre, where afpers can be found, headphones firmly in place, listening to songs with a thesaurus handy for filking, or just watching an old movie on the pretence that an annotation lurks within. In one corner of this vast emporium can be found a small office, akin to Winston's cubicle in 1984. Some days, less now than before, an ent takes up position here and examines some of the messages which come down the tube. Some are repeated to his speakwrite, many are thrust into the flames of the memory-slot.
Back to the reading room, and now we must look at the second door, almost, but not quite, directly opposite that which leads from the lobby. Dante's 'Abandon Hope' quotation is carved beautifully into the main lintel here, and on each side can be fond the Laws and Ordinances of afp. Some snippets of these same are repeated in quotations on the walls as one proceeds through the door and up the stairs. On these walls also are some portraits of the last 'con and CCDE.
Atop the stair We come to three newer doors. To the right, and therefore above the Library, a dining hall is always available. The atmosphere in this room is almost formal. People brandish excerpts from works they have discovered in the library from time to time, but mostly people just converse while feasting on a cornucopia of dishes drawn from all corners of the world. This is the domain of the Relevant and the Annotation. Message tube-slots are to be found on the walls, otherwise decorated simply but elegantly, a few musty banners from the last OS wars lie furled amongst the rafters.
Retreating from that room we enter the doorway across the landing. A smaller room, but still larger than most in the world outside. Two groups of people occupy this space. In the distance, behind soundproof glass and the array of recording equipment, the filkers struggle endlessly, composing filks which will later be played to the general membership. Nearer the door, laughing people Cascade at each other, the intreave of sound as they out guess each other usually culminating in one finishing on a complete alphabetical spritz of the topic. A stage against one wall lies empty for now, discarded panto costumes piled around a box of props.
Back to the landing and into the final door, and you can see from the carpet that this is the road most often travelled. Inside one finds a strange bar - subdivided and yet not. People cluster around tables, standing or sitting, moving according to their interest in the various discussions open at that time. Sometime the discussions can get heated, more often than not they simply fade in quiet acknowledgement. As the Club is open to all comers, here one is most likely to find a new member. Some are, unfortunately, loud and abrasive. You look at the dragon asleep in the smoky rafters but note that the sulphur levels are quite low today. The Irrelevant is discussed most here, you note some groups are aiding a friend, while others are obviously discussing matters private. Around larger tables people are discussing the world outside- obviously planning a meet, or a con. A large board adjacent to the bar displays the results of their efforts - Announces for the weeks to come. On the far wall (very far indeed) you can look out of 7 massive windows to the splendour of the gardens. A pyre of smoke near the horizon indicates another spammer has met the ho-ho, while you can't help but laugh as a drop-bear expertly deflects a troll lurking in the bushes.
A small door near the entrance leads to a darkened room - the play of monitors shows that this is the games room - where those trapped in the various games available are helped along by the wiser members. The atmosphere is normally convivial here in the bar - aided by the brave souls who, once in a while, take to the small stage in one corner and offer their filk to the members. Some are met with general applause, and often the descending filker is surrounded by those wishing to offer some constructive criticism. The bar here is stocked with delights too vast to mention, real ale, 99% chocolates, strange stuff from all corners.
Back downstairs to the last door off the Reading Room. This small door leads to the offices of the club. Here a new member is offered their welcome-kit, while a well-established member an often be found volunteering their time with helpful advice for those newcomers, or offering advice on getting to the club. Another room lies within here - a room where only discussions of the utmost seriousness take place - the Meta Room. At the moment it is quiescent and empty - the circular debating chamber with its ancient tomes of precedent surrounding a small dais.
So, the tour ended you return to Igor's domain, the lobby. As you wait for your coat with glubs onna string to be returned you watch in amazement as the weeks deliveries pile through the door and into the stores - Lindt, Ale, Beer, soft drinks and a thousand copies of The Truth and The Fifth Elephant. Around from behind the delivery van comes a familiar face, one whose expression reminds you that here is a debate left unfinished. Almost sadly, knowing the work which remains undone back in your real life, you hand your coat and glubs back to Igor. 'Maybe a quick meal to reflect on the development of Captain Carrot', you delude yourself as you extricate one of the copies of T5E, 'or a quick drink while discussing bras and cats'. You turn your back on the world just a little longer, and return through Dante's Arch and up the care-worn carpets, a little more time to spend in afp.
Daniel.