Harris shook his head. "When Milton said 'divide the world into two parts,' he meant that literally. He is quite capable of devising some means of dividing the world astronomically."
Ingalls laughed. "Impossible!" he chuckled.
"Several years ago Professor Milton was in need of some dye for some obscure purpose. One of his assistants made a wisecrack to the effect that if Professor Milton was so smart, why couldn't he filter the dye out of ink and use that. Milton devised a filter capable of separating the dye from ink, and used it. So far the filter is useless for anything else but it will certainly remove the color from a bottle of ink, leaving the stuff in two useless quantities."
"Interesting, but—"
"Astronomically, the idea of separating the world into two hemispheres is disastrous."
"Why?" asked Ingalls. "I know little of astrology."
Edwards glared at him. "Not astrology; astronomy. Astrophysics or celestial mechanics. Your half-apple of a world is unstable astronomically. Gravity would set in unfavorably upon the instant of division and separation and the half-apple would collapse into two smaller spheres, gradually assuming true spherical shapes in thousands of years as the rocks cold-flowed. But for the moment, the shock and the immediate crack-up would leave no city standing; huge crevices would be formed, and no living thing to remain. Understand, I'm a doctor of medicine and not an astrophysicist. My description may err but I can guarantee that the results would be disastrous. I suggest that if you don't believe me, call one of the big brains at Mount Palomar; they'll tell you the details."
