Rubber Band - The HemiHelix Effect Ep 1

Interlude 2

He opens the book.
His own.
The pages are empty.
He laughs and drinks.
The book is definitely not speaking to him.

(In Tibors book the back cover should be torn to reveal the book is made by Celestial Enterprises)

He turns to Tibor’s book.
The pages are crammed full of tiny writing.
Some of it Polish, some English, German, French.
Trails of thought, quotations, single words.
Tibor spoke many languages, served in four different armies in the war. Some would call him a chronic deserter and an informer, who collaborated with any side, as long as it paid well.
Lukas has always thought of him as an ingenious survival artist.
’All is fair in love and war’; Lukas, too, subscribes to Tibor’s favourite quote, though his conscience tends to get in the way. Lukas knows full well that he himself wouldn't be able to pull of the stunts that made Tibor survive the war and finally escape to Britain; he wasn't even able to please his editors enough to stay at The Mail for more than a few months. Circumventing telling Liz the truth and nothing but the truth about the Liechtenstein accounts is nothing more than self-preservation; a big white lie to honour his brother.
She wouldn't have believed the whole story anyway.

Lukas turns another page in Tibor’s book, finishes another pint of beer. His eyes are tired; he tries to work out the geometrical design Tibor has drawn on page two. Ink, he always wrote in ink, with an old fashioned pen that he’d adapted to hold ink cartridges and which originally belonged to Tibor’s father.
The Escher-like star-shaped drawing seems to rotate in front of Lukas’s eyes. It changes shape depending on which corner he looks at. It would be impossible to build this three dimensional structure in reality. Lukas wonders if this is one of Tibor’s own designs or if he is quoting something he has sees elsewhere. Each flat panel of the model bears a word. Tibor has listed the words alphabetically below the drawing, then listed them again, broken up into syllables and then put back together to form new words, some making sense, some seemingly gobbledygook. At the bottom of the page Tibor has written a poem containing nothing but the new words, in perfect rhyme.
Lukas reads the poem out loud. It sounds beautifully tonal and sonorous.
Heads turn at the bar and one of his mates makes a remark that triggers a few sniggers. Lukas grins back sheepishly. Normally he would be sitting up there, amongst his peers. Today he doesn't feel like participating in the same old conversation about football, women and drink. He is also glad that Vladi hasn't made an appearance. Their conversation would have been more stimulating, but his hangover would have been disproportionately more unpleasant than it will be if he went home now. He finishes his pint and decides to call it a night.