The Inescapable Bottleneck

Across the Pacific Ocean, it was still noon.

After sending the email, Sarot went to a bar and drank himself into a stupor.

He never drank in the middle of the day; he needed a clear head for experiments. This time, he made an exception.

At a bar on the edge of Silicon Valley, his assistant Paul sat down beside him. Paul watched him, sighed, and offered a few words of comfort.

"Look on the bright side. Your lab being sold to ExxonMobil might not be a bad thing. Professor Lu is an excellent scholar—a great one, even—but there's only so much he can give you in resources. Besides, ExxonMobil paid fifty million for us. They're not going to leave us sitting around with nothing to do..."

Professor Sarot gave no response. Realizing his reassurance had probably failed, Paul shrugged and brought the subject to an abrupt close.

"Anyway, having money isn't a bad thing."

Sarot's mouth twitched.

"You don't understand."

"...What don't I understand?" Paul asked.

Sarot offered no explanation. He tipped up the bottle and took several long swallows, then started talking about something else.

"My dear Paul, I've always believed academia should be free. Unless an idea violates the most basic principles of human decency, you should stand by it if you believe it's right—even if everyone else thinks it's wrong. The less they believe you, the more you should prove them wrong."

Paul frowned. "Isn't it free now?"

"Perhaps." Sarot looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "But once you reach my position, when your research—or your actions—becomes one of the gears driving the world forward... you may see freedom differently."

Paul said nothing. He only looked at Professor Sarot in confusion.

After a long silence, Sarot set the empty bottle beside his stool and picked