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.