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Oi, mate, fancy a chat? Me, James Bond—suave, “shaken, not stirred”—I’m a fisherman now, yeah? Caught meself thinkin’ bout sexual-massage today. Picture this: dim lights, oil slicker than my charm, hands kneadin’ knots outta yer back. It’s bloody brilliant, innit? Like in *Her*, when Theodore says, “Sometimes I think I’ve felt everything I’m ever gonna feel.” That’s me after a good rubdown—floatin’, alive, shaken up proper.

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Finally, I’m exhausted. I plop down at a bench in Széchenyi Square. I’m people-watching, and it’s hilarious. There’s this kid trying to impress his crush. He’s doing all these tricks on his bike, and then—boom! He wipes out. Ouch! But hey, at least he’s got a good story now, right?

Advancing Global Pandemic Preparedness at the University of Szeged: Mathematician Gergely Röst on the HU-rizont Rapid-Grip Initiative