"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.
e 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."