I had tripped hisalarm response when I called out his name."It's okay," I told him, hoping it would help. It didn't. "You are PaulJohnson, right? Mega...'s friend?"Invoking my real name seemed to help. He took a small step forward, andthen another. I was smiling proudly at him as he finally reached me."How...How do you know my name?" he stuttered. Some of the fear startedto encroach on his face again, but started to dissipate when he saw mykind smile."I know Megan pretty well," I told him. "We've. Now it seems absurd to think of having a name. He isn’t human any more. He looks into the sad eyes of the muscular black slave opposite him, the number 7 etched in his shaved body, legs apart and penis on display. The youngster doesn’t even have a name, and Tommy never has the opportunity to discuss his past, and what made him into a slave player. Speaking is for human beings, not slaves. The permanent mouth guard welded around his teeth prevents any form of speech between the slave. More

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