Beneath the Ray
In the first dismal moment of my imprisonment, I had anticipated days,
weeks, or even months of confinement. But I might have spared my
fears. I was soon to be released--although under the last conditions I
would have chosen. And the period of my incarceration, though brief in
duration, was to be savage in the torments it inflicted.
Two or three hours after I had been jailed, the prison door was shoved
violently inward to admit such a ferocious-looking gang of invaders
that my cell-mates all murmured in fright and huddled together at
the extreme end of the room. I too gave a little gasp of alarm, then
tried hard to make myself inconspicuous in a dark corner under the
low-hanging ceiling. In astonishment only exceeded by my apprehension,
I saw a troop of ten beings, who had evidently made every effort to
appear inhuman. The head of each was enveloped in a triangular mask of
steel which came to a hatchet-like point in front and displayed hideous
gaping apertures for the eyes, mouth, and nostrils; their bodies were
encased in dark cloth covered with thin flakes of steel which clattered
as they walked; their feet, which carried long spike-like spurs both in
front and behind, were clothed in iron-plated boots that ran almost to
the knees; their right hands bore shining weapons, shaped a little like
sawed-off shotguns, the ends of which scintillated with flying sparks.
But perhaps the most remarkable thing about them was the manner in
which they walked. They all stepped forward with movements so stiff
and regular that I had a fleeting suspicion that they were animated
machines; their arms swayed up and down, up and down, in perfect time
with those of their companions; their feet always left the ground with
a peculiar high-swinging motion, like that of prancing horses, although
their pace was by no means a prancing one; the sound of their footsteps
reminded me of cavalry trotting.
Of course, I recognized their nature very quickly. Their automatic and
mechanical movements made it evident that they were soldiers.
At a steady pace, they approached my cell-mates, who were shaking and
howling with dread; then abruptly they halted, and their leader pointed
at one of the poor wretches and snapped out a sharp order.
Instantly the victim uttered a cry, as of lamentation and dismay; then,
sagging to the floor, he was seized by one of the warriors and dragged
away, while the whole party left the room at their odd prancing march.
As the door rattled to a close behind them, my remaining cell-mates all
dashed toward the one small window, fighting and wrestling with one
another to gain a favorable position. And all the while, from the lips
of them all, there issued the dreariest, most doleful wails that ever
grated on my ears.
Noting their excitement, and not wishing to be left behind if there
was anything to see, I too darted toward the window. And lo and
behold!--the effect was magical! Avoiding contact with me as though I
were a plague-bearer, the chalk-faces all made way before my coming,
and, whimpering with fear, retreated to the further end of the room.
Thus I was left in undisputed possession of the view!
It was a strange sight that I beheld as I peered out between the iron
bars--a sight in some ways more appalling than even the clash of the
land-battleships. Glancing out into the broad, high corridor just
outside our prison, I saw my late cell-mate being borne away to the
opposite wall, where he was tied against a stone column shaped like
a gallows. Then, while a group of about fifty chalk-faces gathered
around, gibbering and gesticulating, one of the soldiers uttered what
sounded like a warning cry, at which the spectators all withdrew to a
respectable distance, and a curious-looking machine was wheeled on to
the scene.
Not until its brown cloth cover had been removed, and it had been put
into operation, could I guess its nature. Although it rested, like a
camera, on an iron tripod, it was unlike any other machine I had ever
observed; it consisted, in the main, of a series of prisms and lenses,
of various shapes and colors, some of them transparent and but a few
inches across, but the foremost of them rounded in form, stained a deep
opaque blue, and fully a yard in diameter. Behind the lenses, there
were numbers of bulbs and wires, and of battery-like tubes; while the
whole instrument, when in operation, made a constant whirring sound, a
little like a motion picture projector.
* * * * *
What interested me most of all, however, was the weird light which,
issuing from the foremost lens, was not scattered or diffused like most
rays, but drew sharply to a focus twenty or twenty-five yards ahead of
the machine, making a long cone of the most uncanny violet illumination
I had ever seen.
Even now, I was not certain of the dread purpose of the apparatus.
But from the hush of awe-stricken expectancy that had come over the
spectators, I surmised that something extraordinary was in store. Nor
was I to be disappointed. One of the soldiers, operating the machine,
turned the violet light-rays on and off two or three times as if for
practice, then gradually moved the instrument so that it pointed
directly toward the wretch tied against the stone column.
There followed a moment of silence, during which the operator looked
through a little glass tube, as if to make sure of his position and
distance; then he raised his black-gloved hand in an urgent gesture,
and the silence became more absolute than ever, except for a moaning
sound from the tied man; then he took out a little instrument like
a watch and gazed at it intently, as if keeping careful count of the
time....
The next instant, while I still wondered what was to happen, I heard
the low regular whirring of the machine. The cone of violet light shot
out, its focus directly at the prisoner's heart. Then the man sagged
and would have fallen except for the ropes that held him. A strangled
cry issued from his throat; dark foam appeared upon his lips; his face,
for an instant, became ghastly purplish red, then turned gray and
colorless....
Three or four seconds, and all was over. The victim gave a last
convulsive quiver; the violet light no longer played; the whirring
sound had ceased. But one of the soldiers, whistling a tune, cut the
lifeless form free; and the people, with a loud babbling chatter,
surged back and forth across the gallery as if nothing had occurred.
The explanation now was clear enough to me. I knew that the machine
generated not only violet but ultra-violet rays of a penetrating power
to reach the heart and check its action by tearing down the tissues.
Having seen enough for one day, I sank back upon a stone bench,
clasping my aching forehead with both hands and telling myself that I
had fallen amongst the most barbarous race ever known. True, they were
wonderfully advanced scientifically, but would any civilized people
execute a man with a death-ray? Would they not, rather, resort to
humane devices, such as hanging, the guillotine, or the electric chair?
While absorbed in these ruminations, I was startled to see the prison
door burst open once more, admitting the squad of ten soldiers who
advanced with the same machine-like movements and prancing steps as
before, singled out another of my cell-mates, bore the cringing victim
away, and promptly executed him by means of the violet-ray.
Four times in the course of the next hour they returned, and each time
withdrew one of my fellow prisoners, who shortly afterwards said his
last farewell to this world.
What had these men done to justify such treatment? Surely, they were
criminals of a desperate calibre!
With this reflection, I sought to console myself and to drive out a
terrorizing premonition. But it was by no means consoling to find
myself at length alone in the prison, while the last of my cell-mates
was being crumpled to death by the violet rays.
Would I now be left to myself? Fervently I prayed to remain undisturbed
for a time, so that the pulsing in my head might subside. But my
prayer was not to be answered. Immediately after disposing of the last
chalk-face, the soldiers returned. I heard the banging of the door, as
it swung on its hinges with a rattling like the thunder of the gates
of doom; I heard the warriors, with their clattering steely garments
and triangular hatchet helmets as they solemnly approached; I saw their
leader lift a black-clad hand and point in my direction with a motion
as automatic as it was inexorable; and, cowering in the furthest dim
recess of the prison, cornered beyond hope of escape, I felt as if I
had already heard the summons of the Last Bugler trumpeting in my ears.