If the lab technicians had had the opportunity to view the scene inside Rothman’s office, they might not have felt any jealousy whatsoever. It appeared more like Rothman and Pia were engaged in an arcane ritual, rather than having an actual conversation. Neither looked at the other throughout the entire, brief encounter. After Rothman told her he wanted her to edit the current salmonella study for The Lancet that day, he picked up one of two copies of the paper from his desk, which he was now studying intently. Pia appeared equally distracted, her arms crossed, looking at her feet. The uninitiated might sense a social ineptness on both sides as the awkward silence extended; a clinical psychologist, given enough time, might talk more in diagnostically precise language.

Finally Rothman, half standing, leaned over his desk and handed a copy of the Lancet paper to Pia. “Make sure this is up to snuff. I’ll want it by morning. Tomorrow we’ll talk again about what you will be doing for the month.” He still did not look at her. “Let me say that I know you have always been more interested in my stem cell work than my salmonella work, and I’m fine with that. You’ve earned it, considering you finally know something practical about genetics rather than the garbage they taught you in class. And one other thing: Two fourth-year students have been foisted on me for a month of elective by the damn dean. So I want you to give some thought to what they can do while they’re here. It’s not going to be easy. I’m sure they’ll be worthless.”

“Where are they and how can I meet them?”

“They are supposed to start tomorrow. Dr. Yamamoto will introduce you. The main thing is that I don’t want them tying up a lot of Junichi’s time as he seems to enjoy that kind of crap. I need him to concentrate on our work.”

“I can’t do anything with that maintenance man in my office.”

“My understanding is that he’ll be done sometime today. So, tomorrow then.” Rothman was never much interested in the details of running his massive lab. Suddenly he was again absorbed in the Lancet manuscript.

Ignoring Rothman’s dismissal, Pia said, “There is something I want to tell you. The residency matching results came in. I’m going to be here at Columbia doing a combined program getting a Ph.D. in cellular biology with you, as you so generously offered, and completing a residency in internal medicine. I hope you’re pleased.”

“Well, I’m not!” Rothman said with emotion, his infamous ire rising. “I’m disappointed. If I told you once I told you a dozen times that for you, doing an internal medicine residency would be a complete waste of time, just like it was for me. I think it is totally apparent that you, like me, are cut out for research, not clinical medicine. You should be here in the lab full-time! I said as much in my letter of recommendation for the Ph.D. program.”