The next time McCoy entered the private rec room, Spock was not seated on the couch. Instead, he was in a chair in the corner which faced away from the screen, engrossed in a paperback novel.
"Finally, you're doing something normal." McCoy flopped onto the couch, head at one end, ankles crossed at the other. "Computer, play the Starfleet Academy soccer semi-finals." A game appeared on the screen, and loud cheers emanated from the speakers. "C'mon, crush 'em!" McCoy shouted, pumping a fist in the air. A moment later, he glanced at Spock. "Oh, sorry. Am I disturbing you?"
Spock looked over the edge of his book. "No. Please continue."
"All right then." McCoy lowered the volume of the game and his voice. Though he tried to pay attention, however, it wasn't a very fast-paced competition, and his gaze kept straying to Spock. The Vulcan was practically glued to the pages, eagerly devouring the contents, with the occasional "ahh" or "hmmm". By the time half-time came around, he was more than halfway through the book.
McCoy muted the game and walked over to Spock's chair, hands on his hips. "That really looks like some book. What's it about?"
Spock's gaze didn't waver. "Were I to tell you, Doctor, I do not believe your response would be…pleasant," he finished, turning the page.
The doctor rolled his eyes. "Now don't tell me it's something to do with that crazy show of yours." He shook his head.
"You are correct. This is the novelization of Contemplative Silence: The Motion Picture." He closed the book and held it out to McCoy. "You may peruse it, if you wish."
McCoy glared at the book as though it was a snake about to bite his hand, but in the end, curiosity won out. He grabbed the novel by the spine and opened it up. All of the pages were solid black. He flipped them in quick succession, searching for a word, a line, anything. "Unbelievable. This is your idea of a novel? Reading pages and pages of nothing?"
"Hardly nothing. By examining the empty pages, one's mind is allowed to search within rather than without."
McCoy tapped the book against the palm of his hand. "Uh huh. So tell me, which did you like better; the book or the movie?" He said this in a teasing tone of voice.
Spock thought for a moment. "The film was rather thought-provoking, but the novel went into more depth, including certain scenes which were excised from the original script. I find it more compelling when one is allowed to imagine rather than be shown everything."
McCoy smacked his lips together. "Right." Looking more closely at the page, he noticed several sections that appeared darker than others. "Ink distribution's not very uniform. Don't you find that distracting?"
Spock frowned. "Where?" McCoy passed the book to him, pointing to a dark section on the left page. "Mm. I see. That is not the original ink, Doctor. I have taken the liberty of highlighting certain passages that are particular favorites of mine." He picked up a black marker from the table. "Like so," he demonstrated, pressing the marker to a line and coloring over it.
Gritting his teeth together, hands balled in fists at his sides, McCoy said nothing as he left the room, soccer game forgotten.