pattern recognition


Outside of a coffeeshop, I open William Gibson's new book and start reading. The main character's job is to evaluate brand effectiveness and to chart culture trending, etc. At the novel's start, she's in London. A man with a decidedly European accent sits next to me and begins a conversation on his celphone, something about business travel and trips and who's playing ball with whom and for how much. I move inside.

The main character's name is "Cayce." I read a bit where she explains that it's pronounced "Case" even though she was named after a family friend named 'Casey.' I finish the passage and notice, peeling in waves off of the soccer mom at the counter waiting for her latte, the distinctive scent of my late grandmother's perfume of choice.

My grandmother's nickname, in thanks to an arcane matter of familial mythology now lost on everyone except, I suspect, my father, was "Casey."

Registering this coincidence, I look up at the soccer mom and hear her say, "...Helen died." My grandmother's actual name was Helen.

Shaun wanders in shortly thereafter; I tell him the above. He'd just gotten a girl's phone number. This girl had just moved in with her new roommate: Casie.

Kid Calamity Karma Cacophany Kosmic Coincidence Kaos Conduit Kansas City here I come.