Thomas was about to cross the road when his phone rang. He frantically pulled it out from his coat pocket, having waited days for this call. He glanced at the screen and instantly recognized the number. It was the grants panel, who were supposed to make a decision about the funding for his research into 2D memristors. He took an extra two seconds to collect his thoughts and take a deep breath, then answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Professor Smith?” a rough female voice asked.
“Yes, Professor Smith speaking.”
“I am calling regarding the funding for your research project. Unfortunately, the project has been rejected.”
“I don’t understand. The university has a transmission electron microscope, and the samples are quite cheap.”
“I’m afraid it’s not about the money. Other issues were taken into consideration when making the decision.”
“If it’s not about money, then what is it? I’m sure those can be solved quite easily.”
“Unfortunately, there seems to be a conflict of interest. The South Korean industrial partner, who was supposed to provide a portion of the funding and the semiconductors for your research, has pulled out after learning about the ongoing optical computing research in your department.”
“But they have nothing to do with each other. My research is about RAM, and the other one is about CPUs. The research doesn’t overlap at all.”
“I understand, but their decision was final, and thus the other part of the grant will not be awarded to your research.”
Thomas exhaled, completely deflated. This sort of thing constantly happened to him. He would often have to fight bureaucracy or have the rug pulled out from under him. Those least important to the process would make the most important decisions about it. He knew there was probably funding for his research, but the subject was completely unexplored—a wild west, one might call it. The Korean company likely got cold feet and didn’t want to face the consequences if the results were not satisfactory. The conflict of interest was just an excuse to pull out from a multi-million-pound investment. Thomas hated that the most—weak, spineless people who would rather save a few nickels than become pioneers.
He loved teaching and conducting research, but the further he climbed up the ladder, the further away he got from what he loved. He always dreamed of discovering something completely new, something he could call his own, to have a law named after him, to leave an undisputed legacy.
As head of the department, he spent most of his days doing boring paperwork, which he hated, slowly becoming what he despised the most. He was currently on his way to one of his solid-state lectures. He taught for only three hours per week, the only hours he truly enjoyed in recent months.
“Hello? Are you still there, Professor?”
Thomas didn’t bother replying and hung up the phone.
Maybe I should just become a botanist or something, he thought, shoving the phone back into his coat pocket. He rubbed his eyes from exhaustion and exasperation.
Screw this. I won’t let them ruin my life like this. I have more than 30 years of research experience; I can just mov—
Before he could even finish that thought, *BOOM!*
A drunk truck driver, going way over the speed limit, hit him straight on. Thomas didn’t even take a step off the sidewalk; the truck swerved on ice and smashed him to bits. He died almost instantly from the impact.