The theme: The lattice forbids
Penrose tilings
Two rhombi, a rule about how their edges may meet, and a tiling that covers the plane completely and never repeats. The five-fold symmetry a lattice forbids, obtained by giving up the lattice.
The crystallographic restriction
A repeating pattern may have rotations of order two, three, four or six, and nothing else whatever. The proof is one line of arithmetic, and everything finite in the subject descends from it.
The lattice underneath
Strip a pattern of everything but its repeats and a grid of points is left. That grid is not decoration — it is the object that decides which symmetries the pattern is permitted to have.
Five lattices, and no others
A repeating grid can be oblique, rectangular, centred, square or hexagonal. That is the complete list for the plane, and the argument that closes it is a page long.
Why five-fold is impossible
A second proof, geometric rather than algebraic: assume a five-fold centre, and out of it construct a lattice vector shorter than the shortest one there is.
Order is not periodicity
For most of a century the two words were used interchangeably, because every known ordered structure repeated. A diffraction pattern measured in 1982 forced them apart, and the definition of a crystal was rewritten.
The cell is a choice, the lattice is not
Every lattice has infinitely many unit cells and infinitely many bases, and crystallography picks one by convention. Knowing which convention is in force is the difference between a symbol that means something and a symbol that means nothing.
The restriction in three dimensions
Space is roomier than the plane in every other respect, so the natural expectation is that it permits more rotation orders. It permits exactly the same five, and seeing why is more interesting than the result.
What a trace decides
Ten kinds of operation, and two integers tell them apart. The determinant and the trace name a symmetry operation completely — which is why the classification can be run on integer matrices in a lattice basis and never once ask what angle anything turns through.
Centring, and why cm is not pm
A centred cell has a lattice point in the middle and twice the area it needs, and crystallography prefers it anyway. The preference has a price, and the price is paid in reflections that vanish for reasons that have nothing to do with the crystal.
Where five-fold becomes legal
A five-fold rotation with whole-number entries exists — in four dimensions, as a four-by-four matrix that can be written down. The plane forbids it because the plane is too small, and knowing which dimension is large enough changes what a quasicrystal is.
Before the lattice has a say
Every finite group of motions of the plane is a Cₙ or a Dₙ, and every finite group of rotations of space is one of five families. Both lists come out of counting rather than out of crystallography — and then the crystallographic restriction deletes almost all of them, leaving eleven.
Cut and project
Take a periodic lattice, cut a strip through it at an irrational angle, and keep the shadow of what falls inside. The result never repeats, has exactly two spacings, and is a quasicrystal — built from something perfectly periodic that is simply not where anybody was looking.
Reduction, and the shortest basis
Every lattice has infinitely many bases and no arithmetic picks a preferred one — until a rule is imposed. Reduction is that rule, it terminates in a handful of steps, and it is what lets a database decide whether two reported crystals are the same crystal.
A fivefold axis in an ordinary crystal
A virus with sixty-fold symmetry crystallises in a space group that has none of it. The restriction forbids a fivefold axis to the lattice and says nothing about what sits inside one cell — so the axis is exact, the crystal genuinely lacks it, and both statements are measurable on the same set of atoms.
The holohedry is the ceiling
A crystal never has more point symmetry than its lattice. That single containment decides which system a class belongs to, why there are seven systems and not thirty-two, and why a lattice can be more symmetric than the crystal sitting on it — which is the usual case rather than the exception.
What Shechtman measured
A diffraction pattern with sharp spots and tenfold symmetry, in April 1982. Sharpness meant order and tenfold meant no lattice, and the two had been believed inseparable — so the interesting question is what the observation had to rule out before it could mean anything.
Eleven ways to turn while climbing
Five rotation orders survive the crystallographic restriction, and each of them admits a screw for every whole number of cells its turns can amount to. That is a sum with four terms, and it is why there are eleven screw axes rather than some other number.
Icosahedral symmetry
Sixty rotations, six fivefold axes, and no lattice in three dimensions that can hold any of them. It is the point group a crystal is forbidden, and the one the first quasicrystal turned out to have.
Neumann's principle, as one sum
A physical property of a crystal must be unchanged by every symmetry the crystal has. That is a whole subject in one sentence, and it reduces to arithmetic: how many independent components a property may have is a character averaged over the point group, exact in integers.
Forty-eight becomes sixteen
Centre one face of a cube and the four threefold axes along its body diagonals are gone. That sentence is usually offered as a fact to accept; it is a computation whose answer is a number, and the number says which lattice you got instead.
Two hundred and forty-seven descents, or two hundred and twelve
How many distinct ways can a crystal lose symmetry? Counting parent-and-child pairs up to conjugacy in the parent gives 247. The standard enumeration in the ferroics literature gives 212, and the operation that merges the extra thirty-five turns out to be a rotation through forty-five degrees — which no lattice may have, and which no integer matrix in a lattice basis can therefore express.
The sublattices that stay square
A sublattice of the square lattice is itself square exactly when its index is a sum of two squares — so index five has two and index seven has none, and which superstructures a surface can form is decided by a theorem of Fermat's about primes.
Every coincidence index is odd, and in the plane most of them do not exist
The indices at which two copies of a cubic lattice share points are 3, 5, 7, 9, 11 and every odd number after them. There is a two-line proof that no even index can occur. Ask the same question about a square lattice and the answer is a different list entirely, governed by which numbers are sums of two squares — so Σ3, which is the commonest boundary in every metal, has no plane analogue at all.