Cayce is a "cool-hunter." Google her and you find that she is a "sensitive of some sort," paid handsomely for her particularly acute sense of product image-branding. She is also a relatively anonymous member of this pervasive Internet subculture obsessed with the 134 segments of video footage available via the World Wide Web. When segment 135 of this mysteriously evocative footage emerges, Cayce is hired to find its maker, a quest that will propel her into the realm of global espionage, a realm Cayce feels less comfortable in than perhaps her father, Win, did.
William Gibson is often referred to as the father of cyberpunk, a science fiction sub-genre that he created with his seminal work, Neuromancer, in 1984. It was in Neuromancer that Gibson introduced his audience to the concept of cyberspace, to the newly important human-computer interface, and to the gritty and dangerous technological wasteland that became the backdrop for other Gibson novels.
Neuromancer netted Gibson the Hugo. Nebula, and Philip K. Dick awards, the triple crown of science fiction, and became a cult favorite among science fiction readers and academics alike. Gibson has since soloed on five subsequent novels in the cyberpunk genre: Count Zero, Mona Lisa Overdrive, Virtual Light, Idoru, and All Tomorrow's Parties.
Whatever the reason, Gibson's transition backwards into the present day is flawless. His command of story and symbol as sharp as it was when he penned his earlier works jets the reader grippingly through our world as only Gibson could interpret it. And we, followers of his tales, are the beneficiaries. We "give ourselves to the dream," that Gibsonian dream that promises to haunt the mind long after the cover is shut.