About

By John Hillingham, Ophidian Books UK, 2012

Just a short conversation with Steven has you questioning everything you thought you knew about the world.
His knowledge, as I found out at length, on topics from banking to religion, and from quantum physics to carbon sequestration, is formidably impressive.
My early impression of a stoic, northern Englishman, posing rigidly for his profile photos, was quickly erased when he asked where my accent was from.
“Chicago.” I say.
“It’s a shame to pay to come over her and get piss-wet through, when you could have stayed home for free.” He replies, with a smirk.
And with that, the image I preconceived vanished.
Steven was born of the 7th June 1974 to David and Elaine Allinson. His youth was spent in Leeds, England, where he grew up with brother Christopher and sister Samantha.
At a young age there was no doubting Steven’s academic potential. And although his teachers tried to mould him into the man they knew he could become, something stopped him fulfilling his true ability during his teens.
“I had the shit bullied out of me at school for seven years.” He says, with almost zero emotion to the subject. “I was five foot two until I was seventeen, and it made it easy for the chimp-like testoster-drones I went to school with make my life a living hell. ”
Believing that Steven was once that short was not easy as he sat opposite me; dwarfing my six foot frame by a good three inches.
I later find out Steven was a Karate champ as a youth; as his array of trophies attested.
“I could have fought back… But why bother?” He says, as he stares skyward; as if asking the question to someone outside the room. “It may have stopped the bullying, but it would have turned me into something other than I was. And I at least, was proud to be me. Even back then.”
And in there lies another measure of the man. Brains first – violence never.

Talk eventually turns to something that I thought was blatantly apparent from reading his books.
“But I’m not strictly an atheist.” He says, almost grimacing at the suggestion. “An atheist is convinced that there is enough evidence to conclusively prove there is no God. I don’t believe there’s enough information to prove anything either way. All possibilities exist for me. It’s an extreme long-shot, but God could still be there. The only thing I’ll state for certain is I’m not a theist. Because if god does turn up, from the stuff that’s in the religious books of the planet, I’d be running for cover, not standing around bowing. And that’s what Coincidence Theory is about. What we have been taught to believe against what the holy books actually state happened.”
It’s that open-minded, logical approach to the facts presented that probably stands him in good stead as the lead Problem Manager on the SPINE programme for the National Health Service in the UK; a vocation he is rightly proud of.
“It’s sometimes daunting, sometimes rewarding and sometimes infuriating as hell to work on the computer systems for the NHS.” He says with a shake of the head, refusing to go into details.
The questions finally turn to his writing style; simple when it needs to be, dark when it wants to be and fuelled with pace.
“It wasn’t a conscious decision to write like that.” He says, blushing. “It just happened. Some of my earlier attempts at Coincidence Theory, well…” He goes on at length about having to reduce its size by half, apologising all the while for his lack of early ability. “I learnt as I went. That’s all I can say. Hopefully the writing is good enough to stand up for itself now.”
And that’s what I like about his books, and him, the most; the total lack of hubris. If you want to know anything, and I do mean anything, you only have to ask or to read; his telling is then a journey. And it’s definitely one to be enjoyed.