“Could you be more specific?” Daniel responded. He wanted to be sure his suspicions were correct. He hadn’t planned to make an announcement for another month.

“You have been forming a scientific advisory board,” Wortheim said. He got to his feet and began to pace. “An advisory board can mean only one thing.” He stopped and stared at Daniel with acrimonious disdain. “You’re planning to tender your resignation, and you have or you are about to found a company.”

“Guilty as accused,” Daniel proclaimed. He couldn’t keep his smile from expanding to a full grin. A deep red had suffused over Wortheim’s face. Undoubtedly, Wortheim equated the situation to Benedict Arnold’s traitorous behavior during the American Revolutionary War.

“I personally went out on a limb when you were recruited,” Wortheim snapped. “We even built the laboratory facility that you demanded.”

“I won’t be taking the lab with me,” Daniel responded. He couldn’t believe Wortheim was trying to make him feel guilty.

“Your flippancy is galling.”

“I could apologize, but it would be insincere.”

Wortheim returned to his desk. “Your leaving is going to put me in a difficult position with the president of the university.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Daniel said. “I can say that in all sincerity. But this kind of bureaucratic shenanigan is part of the reason I’m not going to miss academia.”

“What else?”

“I’m tired of sacrificing my research time for teaching.”

“Your teaching burden is one of the least onerous in the department. We negotiated that when you came on board.”

“It still keeps me from my research. But that’s not the major issue, either. I want to reap the benefits of what my creativity has produced. Winning prizes and getting articles in scientific journals isn’t enough.”

“You want to be a celebrity.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. And the money will be nice, too. Why not? People with half my ability have done it.”