"No offense, Virgie," he said earnestly. "But this is a billion
dollars and--No matter. When it comes right down to cases, you could
know as much as all those fool professors of ours put together and it
still wouldn't help you steal a thing."
He bobbed his head, smiled absently and went back to his gleamy
gadgets. I tell you, I _steamed_. That settled it, as far as I was
concerned. There was simply no excuse for such unjustified insults to
my character. I certainly had no intention of attempting to take any
unfair advantage, but if he was going to act that way....
He was asking for it. Actually and literally asking for it.
He rapped sharply on the U-tube with a glass stirring rod, seeking my
attention.
"I'm watching," I told him, very amiable now that he'd made up my mind
for me.
"Good. Now," he said, "you know what I do here in the plant?"
"Why--you make fertilizer. It says so on the sign."
"Ha! No," he said. "That is a blind. What I do is, I separate optical
isomers."
"That's very nice," I said warmly. "I'm glad to hear it, Greek."
"Shut up," he retorted unexpectedly. "You don't have the foggiest
notion of what an optical isomer is and you know it. But try and
think. This isn't physics; it's organic chemistry. There are compounds
that exist in two forms--apparently identical in all respects, except
that one is the mirror image of the other. Like right-hand and
left-hand gloves; one is the other, turned backwards. You understand
so far?"
"Of course," I said.
* * * * *
He looked at me thoughtfully, then shrugged. "No matter. They're
called d- and l-isomers--d for dextro, l for levo; right and left, you
see. And although they're identical except for being mirror-reversed,
it so happens that sometimes one isomer is worth much more than the
other."
"I see that," I said.
"I thought you would. Well, they can be separated--but it's expensive.
Not my way, though. My way is quick and simple. I use demons."
"Oh, now, Greek. _Really._"
He said in a weary tone, "Don't talk, Virgie. Just listen. It won't
tire you so much. But bear in mind that this is simply the most
trifling application of my discovery. I could use it for separating
U-235 from U-238 just as easily. In fact, I already--" He stopped in
mid-sentence, cocked his head, looked at me and backtracked. "Never
mind that. But you know what a Maxwell demon is?"
"No."
"Good for you, Virgie. Good for you!" he applauded. "I knew I'd get
the truth out of you if I waited long enough." _Another_ ambiguous
remark, I thought to myself. "But you surely know the second law of
thermodynamics."
"Surely."
"I thought you'd say that," he said gravely. "So then you know that if
you put an ice cube in a glass of warm water, for instance, the ice
melts, the water cools, and you get a glass with no ice but with all
the water lowered in temperature. Right? And it's a one-way process.
That is, you can't start with a glass of cool water and, hocus-pocus,
get it to separate into warm water and ice cube, right?"
"Naturally," I said, "for heaven's sake. I mean that's silly."
"_Very_ silly," he agreed. "You know it yourself, eh? So watch."
He didn't say hocus-pocus. But he did adjust something on one of his
gadgets.
There was a faint whine and a gurgling, spluttering sound, like fat
sparks climbing between spreading electrodes in a Frankenstein movie.
The water began to steam faintly.