Fans are gearing up for the 'con'

You, of course, are not a geek. You've never donned Spock ears or been tempted to use the Force to solve your personal problems. Maybe you wouldn't dream of going to a science fiction convention, either.

Yet perhaps you own some books -- OK, many books -- that take place on other planets. Perhaps you seek out stories that challenge your ideas about time, space, or gravity. Perhaps you have an opinion about whether Robert A. Heinlein was better before or after ''Stranger in a Strange Land." There are people like you. And the place to find them is, yes, a science fiction convention.

Unlike commercially run conventions that focus on marketing television or movie memorabilia, the original ''cons" were -- and are -- run by and for fans. One of the longest-running such events is Boskone, which takes place this weekend in Boston.

This is the 43d Boskone -- named after an evil planet in E.E. Smith's ''Lensman" series of books -- and many people have been attending for years. With a little orientation, though, a newcomer can learn, shop, meet congenial souls, and have fun.

''Boskone is tilted more towards written SF," explains Elisabeth Carey, 48, a law librarian by day who is volunteering this year as coordinator of the ''hucksters' room" at Boskone. The con does have anime movies and a gaming area, but the primary focus is on books.

Deb Geisler, a professor of journalism and communications at Suffolk University, is treasurer of Boskone. She suggests that a newcomer tour the art room and browse the hucksters' room to buy ''books or games or books or jewelry or books." Most of all, though, she encourages newcomers to explore and participate in the ''program" -- the literary part of the con, where authors, editors, and fans interact.

Fans of science fiction have never been quiet consumers. According to Carey, in the 1920s, Amazing Stories magazine printed letters from fans with opinions about what they read, and included the writers' addresses. When the letter writers began corresponding with each other, ''fandom" was born.

In that spirit, Carey notes that panel discussions aren't just talking heads -- audience members participate, with a moderator keeping the proceedings flowing. Fans can also sign up for small group meetings with an author, artist, or other major figure, called ''kaffeeklatsches" or ''literary beers" depending on the central guest's choice of beverage.

In addition to the traditional guests of honor -- usually an author, an artist, and a keynote speaker -- Boskone also invites a scientist to speak each year, a tradition named for the late Hal Clement, a Milton Academy teacher and SF author. This year's science speaker is an astronomer, William K. Hartmann.

Spock ears aside, it is true that fans have a culture all their own. Suford and Tony Lewis, a couple who helped found the New England Science Fiction Association (the folks who put on Boskone) in 1967, have been part of it for decades.

For them, the idea that SF fans are weird is a reaction against the passion fans bring to the stories. ''People who read things they're not assigned in school are weird," Tony says. ''Reading a lot is weird. Getting enthusiastic about what you're reading is weird," continues Suford (after 38 years of marriage, they tend to complete one another's thoughts). ''If you're weird, you might as well be proud of it."

From that pride has developed a set of jargon and rituals, in which con-goers can participate on varying levels. If you like, you can listen to ''filk" -- a form of folk song that has developed around SF conventions, sometimes parodying well-known melodies with SF-specific lyrics, other times completely original. A gaming room will offer a chance to interact with other fans of tabletop strategy games. You can buy fan-created publications and art. (Indeed, the experience can be so captivating that the Lewises recommend a ''5-2-1" rule: 5 hours of sleep, 2 meals, and 1 shower in each 24-hour period.)

All this, of course, may bring you dangerously close to geekdom. You may find yourself thinking of the ''Saturday Night Live" sketch in which William Shatner tells all the Trekkies to ''get a life." Or maybe not. Science fiction themes have become so much a part of popular culture that the fans around you may not seem that different from people you already know.

Tony Lewis is 65. When he was young, he says, ''if you wanted to talk about spaceships, you had to go to a science fiction convention. Now, you read the Wall Street Journal." For the Lewises, conventions are no longer the only place they can talk about the books they love. Instead, they're settings for socializing, creativity, and a lot of fun.

It's entirely possible to go to a con and have a great time just focusing on the books, perhaps learning more about the field, meeting a favorite author, or finding new worlds to explore.

Carey says that's the best part, because today's SF literature is delving into ideas, themes, and plots that may not show up in movies or on TV for decades. Just think of it as boldly going where no man has gone before.