"Uranium," explained Biggs simply. "As I told you, I've been experimenting. And I've discovered that uranium, no longer as rare and expensive as it was when audio plates were first invented, is the ideal plate."
"It's been nice," I said sarcastically, "seeing you, Mr. Biggs. Any schoolchild knows that mobile electrons account for the electrical conducting ability of metals. And as the number of electrons per atom increases, metallic properties decrease; the metals become harder, more brittle, less ductile and poorer conductors. Uranium, my friend, would be what we Universal-hurlers call, in our simple patois, a first class 'stinkeroo'."
Biggs flushed faintly, and his liquescent larynx leaped in a lopsided lurch. There was a hurt look in his eyes.
"Would you be convinced if I showed you?"
"St. Louis," I said.
"I—I beg your pardon?"
"I'm from there. It's in the State of Missouri." But I gave my slumbrous receiving set a glance of despair. "Still—this thing's not working. If you'd like to try out your new floppola—"
"I've got it in my quarters," he said delightedly. "I'll go get it right away!" And he started toward the door.
I remembered, then, that I had a message for him.
"Wait a minute," I said, "I just remembered. Our beloved skipper left you a billet-doux. He told me to tell you to ipskay the assespay at the aughterday."