I'm at Finncon. Cons give me strange dreams: People on the mountain and people on the ground were at war. The ground people's armies marched up the mountain led by an old man in a black wig. All the soldiers were dressed in black undertaker suits and top hats; they were singing a jaunty march. Behind them walked brass automatons. At a toll booth halfway up the mountain, the clerk said: "That's an unusual tactic." In reply, the soldier at the back of the column stopped in front of the booth and sang to him in a deep bass. The soldier's face was emaciated, his cheeks rouged and lips painted. He held the last note for a very long time.