Jane Actually

Janeite. Albert thought he detected the common explanation, “We’re here for a Jane Austen convention. She was a writer in the English Regency. No, she’s not appearing at the convention, she’s been dead two hundred years.”
    But then he realized that explanation would now need to be amended to include Jane’s presence. The anticipation of her presence might also explain the very animated appearance of his fellow attendees. Again he wished that he might join them.
    The van arrived at the Worthington without incident and deposited Albert, three of the original group of four women (the younger one would presumably stay at another hotel) and the man wearing the cowboy hat. The women did not proceed to the registration desk but the man did, and Albert followed. As he approached the desk, he felt an AfterNet field and was welcomed.
    “Good morning, how may I help you?” an anonymous someone asked.
    “Uh, I’m Albert Ridings and I’m checking in for the Jane Austen convention.”
    “Very good sir, but registration for the disembodied is being handled by your group. If you’ll return to the escalators next to the main entrance and go up one floor and across the bridge to the convention centre, you’ll find the registration desk.”
    “Oh, thank you,” Albert replied, a little disconcerted about not needing to register with the hotel. He really didn’t know what to expect, this being the first time he’d ever actually officially stayed at a hotel.
    He retraced his way back to the escalator and stared at it with misgivings. He preferred stairs to the rather tricky process of moving his insubstantial self in time with the steps. But he didn’t want to hunt for the stairs and find himself wandering aimlessly. He stepped forward and willed himself to remain in place against the steps. He was halfway up when someone running up dislodged him and he found himself sliding down the metal divider between the up and down escalators. He was unceremoniously dumped at the bottom and understandably cursed.
    He looked around and saw the stairs that led up to what appeared to be a restaurant that perched over the hotel lobby. He took the stairs, a much easier proposition than the constantly changing purchase of the escalator steps, and emerged onto what was probably a breakfast/lunch serving area. But another short flight of stairs led up to the same level the escalator serviced and after a few simple turns he found himself facing the walkway that joined the hotel side to the convention centre. He quickly found the registration desk and felt another AfterNet field.
    “And who do we have here? Welcome to the AGM. I’m Stephanie. And your name is …”
    He realized the field was attached to a full AfterNet terminal and could see that Stephanie was disembodied and that her username was pemberleydreamz. On the registration desk he located the terminal, probably unnoticed by the living.
    “Uh, Albert Ridings.”
    “Very nice to meet you Albert. Are you registered?”
    “Yes.”
    “OK, you can either log on to the AfterNet and I can look you up that way, or if you can remember your confirmation number, I can register you that way. I’d recommend logging into the AfterNet.”
    “Of course,” he said, and quickly logged in.
    “OK, Albert, you’re good to go. I’ve sent you an email with the password you’ll need to access all the hotspots in the main ballroom and all the breakout sessions. And it includes the virtual goody bag and also an invitation to the first timer’s chat tonight and tomorrow night.”
    “I’m not a first timer,” he objected.
    “What? Oh, no, we’re all first timers now. This is the first time the disembodied have been able to register separately so they decided we all get to be considered first timers. Have you been coming to the AGMs for a while?”
    “This is my third time.”
    “Oh well, in that case … hold on … OK, would you like to maybe help out some of the real first timers?”
    “I’d be delighted.”
    “What a gentleman you are, Albert. I’m sending your name to Patrick … whose last name I can’t remember. He’s the coordinator for the disembodied and he’ll probably email you or text you or something … and I checked, we’ve got all your contact info. I hope you have a nice time.”
    “Thank you. Oh, I have a roommate?”
    “Sure, sure. Hold on, what do I do if you have a roommate? Let me look it up … oh, this is simple, your roommate is Stephen Abrams and