A venture capitalist turned out to be surprisingly easy to locate.  McGinty was struck by how close together most of their offices were, in a little cluster just a few miles from the university.

Getting past a receptionist to see someone also proved not to be overly difficult, with judicious use of the spray. What was becoming hard, however, was answering the commonsense questions of David Sanborne, the man with the high forehead and piercing blue eyes now seated at the desk opposite him.

“How did you come to think up a product like this?”   Sanborne’s question, while direct, was not asked in an intimidating tone.

“Well, ah, actually, I didn't exactly think of it,” McGinty stammered.  “I just noticed it.”

The VC peered over the tops of his reading glasses.

McGinty readjusted himself in his seat.  “Actually, I wouldn't think you'd be surprised by that.  I mean, didn't Styrofoam start out as a laboratory mistake?”

The other man nodded. “True enough. But what were you trying to make?”
 
“Well, uh, I was just...”

“…Excuse me?”

McGinty tired of the attempt at evasion.  “Actually, I wasn't trying to formulate anything at all.  I just fell asleep, and when I woke up, there it was.”

Sanborne stared past him at the back wall of the room.  When finally his gaze returned to McGinty, his expression was patient.  “I'm afraid I'm not getting this. Obviously there weren't genies, or lamps, or that sort of thing...”

McGinty made a strained attempt at a smile.  “No,” he said. “There were just my grandchildren. And a couple of their friends. And a chemistry set.”  He swallowed with difficulty. “And I guess whatever else may have been in the house.”
 
Unable to read the other man's reaction, he continued with a kind of sheepish tenacity. “I was supposed to be watching them. I dozed off in my chair.”

Sanborne looked astonished. “So you're not even a chemist?”

McGinty shrugged apologetically. “If I were, I could have figured out what this stuff is, and how to make it myself.”