"There are subjects here who have lain thus for fifty, Ras Thavas
tells me."
"Ten years! Ten years! What may not have happened in ten years! It is better
thus. I should fear to go back now. I should not want to know that my father, my
mother too, perhaps, were gone. It is better thus. Perhaps you will let me sleep
again? May I not?"
"That remains with Ras Thavas," I replied; "but for a while I am to observe
you."
"Observe me?"
"Study you – your reactions."
"Ah! and what good will that do?"
"It may do some good in the world."
"It may give this horrid Ras Thavas some new ideas for his torture chamber –
some new scheme for coining money from the suffering of his victims," she said,
her harsh voice saddened.
"Some of his works are good," I told her. "The money he makes permits him to
maintain this wonderful establishment where he constantly carries on countless
experiments. Many of his operations are beneficent. Yesterday a warrior was
brought in whose arm was crushed beyond repair. Ras Thavas gave him a new arm. A
demented child was brought. Ras Thavas gave her a new brain. The arm and the
brain were taken from two who had met violent deaths. Through Ras Thavas they
were permitted, after death, to give life and happiness to others."
She thought for a moment. "I am content," she said. "I only hope that you will
always be the observer."
Presently Ras Thavas came and examined her. "A good subject," he said. He looked
at the chart where I had made a very brief record following the other entries
relative to the history of Case No. 4296-E-2631-H. Of course this is, naturally,
a rather free translation of this particular identification number. The
Barsoomians have no alphabet such as ours and their numbering system is quite
different. The thirteen characters above were represented by four Toonolian
characters, yet the meaning was quite the same – they represented, in contracted
form, the case number, the room, the table and the building.
"The subject will be quartered near you where you may regularly observe it,"
continued Ras Thavas. "There is a chamber adjoining yours. I will see that it is
unlocked. Take the subject there. When not under your observation, lock it in."
It was only another case to him.
I took the girl, if I may so call her, to her quarters. On the way I asked her
her name, for it seemed to me an unnecessary discourtesy always to address her
and refer to her as 4296-E-2631-H, and this I explained to her.
"It is considerate of you to think of that," she said, "but really that is all
that I am here – just another subject for vivisection."
"You are more than that to me," I told her. "You are friendless and helpless. I
want to be of service to you – to make your lot easier if I can."
"Thank you again," she said. "My name is Valla Dia, and yours?"
"Ras Thavas calls me Vad Varo," I told her.
But that is not your name?"
"My name is Ulysses Paxton."
"It is a strange name, unlike any that I have ever heard, but you are unlike any
man I have ever seen – you do not seem Barsoomian. Your colour is unlike that of
any race."
"I am not of Barsoom, but from Earth, the planet you sometimes call Jasoom.
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