Chrome steel, in this century? Perfect machining, in a culture that worked no metal? Intricate lenses, in a land where glass was undreamed of?

He opened his mouth to speak. A flash of violet light leaped out from the clustered lenses, blinding, bright. A terrific shock ran through him, and every motor nerve center went dead. Blinded and utterly astonished he collapsed on the steps.

(Thing-that-spits-lightning from 'Lords of the Morning' by Edmond Hamilton)

He felt again, in memory, the flash and shock that had ended their first meeting. "Listen," he said. "That" There were no words in the Quiche that had anything to do with electronics. Thing-that-spits-lightning was the best he could do. "Where did you get it? Who made it?

...OVER HIS shoulder he asked Aryll, “How far is the thing-that-spits-lightning effective?”