So, you know me. Lollypop Donovan, the eternal sucker. I helped him.
By way of alibi, I might as well confess here and now that I didn't think anything would come of Biggs' experiment. Oh, I know that in the past he has pulled so many bunnies out of the chapeau that his hat resembles a rabbit-warren. But this time I would have bet my somewhat battered immortal soul to the Black Gentleman with the Long Tail that Biggs had bitten off more than he could chew. 'Cause according to what my mama done tole me about the bees and the birds and the flowers, that biological phenomenon known as "life" requires a certain amount of time to establish itself.
But small items like impossibilities don't faze Mr. Biggs. He's the kind of a guy who never says die until he finds himself reporting for duty to the white-winged watchman at the Pearly Gates.
So for several hours he fiddled and diddled around with the complex array of gadgets he had accumulated, and finally he turned to me and said, with a smile of satisfaction, "Well, Sparks, there it is! How does it look?"
"It looks," I told him frankly, "like a nauseous bathtub on stilts. You mean you really expect to grow flowers in that overgrown fishbowl?"
"That's the idea."
"Well, how about the ultraviolet ray lamp? What's that for?"
"Why," said Biggs, "that's an important part of my new invention. It isn't ... er ... exactly an ultraviolet ray lamp any more, Sparks. I made a few minor adjustments on it. It now emits rays in the Hertzian range. That is, between one M and one-tenth CM in length, electrical waves for which—up till the present time—no use has ever been found. But if my theory is correct, they should irradiate the growing seeds pods with—"
"Never mind," I interrupted him hastily. "You're just wasting your breath and my time. Let's turn on the juice and see what happens."