Awaiting Pia that morning at the William Black Medical Research Building was the noted molecular geneticist Dr. Tobias Rothman, winner of both a Nobel Prize and a Lasker Award. In addition to being known for his accomplishments, Dr. Rothman was even better known around the medical center for being a difficult person to work with, thanks to his renowned total lack of social graces. Rothman did not suffer fools. In fact Rothman did not suffer anyone except his long-term research assistant, Dr. Junichi Yamamoto. Originally Rothman’s reputation had made George nervous for Pia when she started her third-year elective in the man’s lab, but his concern had been tempered by his personal knowledge that she herself was a handful. From direct experience he knew that she could be counted on to hold her own in most any situation. As it had turned out, to everyone’s surprise, even Pia’s, she had gotten along famously with the famed and feared researcher. In fact it had been Rothman’s suggestion that Pia do a Ph.D. program at Columbia with her practical work taking place in his lab. Until Pia had come along, Rothman had never mentored anyone. For a while it had been a major point of gossip in the entire medical center as people wildly hypothesized what on earth was going on between the exotically attractive medical student and the universally disliked but respected curmudgeon who was the center’s major research celebrity.

“Pia! Wait up!” George called out. In her typically self-absorbed fashion, Pia had gotten ahead of George in the crowd. Dodging the phalanxes of medical students in their white coats who were all converging on the Black building, George scuttled ahead to catch Pia just before she entered the building. He pulled her aside. Pia looked up at George with her big brown eyes wide open, as if surprised to see George, whom she was supposed to be walking with.

“Do you want to have lunch? It’s the first day, so they might go easy on us. I know for me it’s probably going to get crazy after today.”

“I don’t know, George. Rothman’s . . . Rothman’s, you know . . .”

“Rothman’s an asocial asshole, that’s what I know.”

“Let’s not argue! I know what you and just about everyone else thinks, but the man’s been good to me. I don’t know what he has in mind for me today or for the month, for that matter. What I do know is that I can’t make plans to meet for lunch before I find out what the day is going to bring.”

“I can tell you what most people think he has in mind for you.”

“Oh, please!” Pia snapped. “Let’s not get into that again. I’ve told you time and again the man’s never made one advance or off-color comment in my presence. What he is is a genius who believes he’s surrounded by morons, and he might be right, at least comparatively. All he’s interested in is his work, and I’m interested in it too. I’m well aware of his asocial reputation, but I’m lucky that he tolerates me. I can’t wait to get in there. If I have a moment as the day progresses, I’ll call your cell.”