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“
You
will
feel
pain
in
this
hand
within
the
box
.
Pain
.
But
!
Withdraw
the
hand
and
I
’
ll
touch
your
neck
with
my
gom
jabbar
—
the
death
so
swift
it
’
s
like
the
fall
of
the
headsman
’
s
axe
.
Withdraw
your
hand
and
the
gom
jabbar
takes
you
.
Understand
?
”
“
What
’
s
in
the
box
?
”
“
Pain
.
”
He
felt
increased
tingling
in
his
hand
,
pressed
his
lips
tightly
together
.
How
could
this
be
a
test
?
he
wondered
.
The
tingling
became
an
itch
.
The
old
woman
said
:
“
You
’
ve
heard
of
animals
chewing
off
a
leg
to
escape
a
trap
?
There
’
s
an
animal
kind
of
trick
.
A
human
would
remain
in
the
trap
,
endure
the
pain
,
feigning
death
that
he
might
kill
the
trapper
and
remove
a
threat
to
his
kind
.
”
The
itch
became
the
faintest
burning
.
“
Why
are
you
doing
this
?
”
he
demanded
.
“
To
determine
if
you
’
re
human
.
Be
silent
.
”
Paul
clenched
his
left
hand
into
a
fist
as
the
burning
sensation
increased
in
the
other
hand
.
It
mounted
slowly
:
heat
upon
heat
upon
heat
.
.
.
upon
heat
.
He
felt
the
fingernails
of
his
free
hand
biting
the
palm
.
He
tried
to
flex
the
fingers
of
the
burning
hand
,
but
couldn
’
t
move
them
.
“
It
burns
,
”
he
whispered
.
