Wheels Within

  Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction May 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

  Wheels Within

  By CHARLES DE VET

  Never ask "Who am I and where do I come from?" The answers may not be what you'd expect!

  Illustrated by DON SIBLEY

  * * * * *

  "When did the headaches first start?" asked the neurologist, Dr. Hall.

  "About six months ago," Bennett replied.

  "What is your occupation, Mr. Bennett?"

  "I am a contractor."

  "Are you happy in your work?"

  "Very. I prefer it to any other occupation I know of."

  "When your headaches become sufficiently severe, you say that you havehallucinations," Hall said. "Can you describe what you see duringthose hallucinations?"

  "At first I had only the impression that I was in a place completelyunlike anything I had ever known," Bennett answered. "But each time myimpressions became sharper, and I carried a fairly clear picture whenmy mind returned to normal the last time. I felt then that I had beenin a room in a tall building that towered thousands of feet over agreat city. I even remembered that the name of the city was Thone.There were other people in the room with me--one person especially. Iremembered her very clearly."

  "Her?" Hall asked.

  "Yes."

  "Was there anything unusual about this woman?"

  "Well, yes, there was," Bennett said, after a brief and almostembarrassed pause. "This will sound pretty adolescent, but--"

  Hall leaned forward attentively. "It may be relevant. You're not hereto be judged, you know; I'm trying to help you."

  Bennett nodded and spoke rapidly, as though trying to finish before hecould stop himself. "She was a woman who exactly fitted an image I'vehad in mind for as long as I can remember. She was tall, fair--thoughbrunette--very beautiful, very vivid, very well poised. I seem to haveknown her all my life, but only in my dreams, from my very earliestones to the present. She's never changed in all that time."

  He halted as suddenly as he had begun to talk, either having nothingmore to say, or unwilling to say it.

  "Have you ever married, Mr. Bennett?" Hall prodded gently.

  "No, I never have." Again, Bennett stopped, adding nothing more to hisblunt answer.

  "May I ask why not?"

  Bennett turned his face away. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that. Itmakes me sound like a romantic kid." He looked at the doctor almost indefiance. "I've always felt that some day I would meet this girl, orat least someone very much like her. I know it's not a rationalfeeling--maybe I've even used it as an excuse not to get married--butit's like spilling salt and throwing a pinch over our shoulder; wearen't superstitious, yet we don't take any chances."

  Dr. Hall didn't comment. He ended the questioning period and putBennett through a series of tests. Then they sat down again and Halloffered his diagnosis.

  "The neurological examination is essentially negative, Mr. Bennett. Inother words, there is no organic reason that I can find for yourheadaches. That leaves only one other possibility--an emotionaldisturbance. I'm a neurologist, remember, not a psychoanalyst. I canonly give an opinion about the cause of your complaint."

  Bennett waited expectantly.

  "Headaches without organic causes are generally the result ofrepressed anger," Hall went on. "That anger can stem from any numberof traumatic situations or attitudes, all deeply buried in theunconscious, of course, or they would not have the power to hurt us.From what we know of you, however, it seems to be the result offrustration. In other words, you have created a fantasy image of acompletely unattainable woman, and therefore none of the women youmeet can fulfill your expectations. Since she is unattainable, younaturally feel a sense of frustration."

  "But who could she be?" Bennett asked anxiously.

  "Someone you knew in childhood, perhaps. A composite of real andimaginary women. Usually, it is an idealized image of your ownmother."

  Bennett sat frowning. "All right, let's say that's so. But where dothe hallucinations of the city of Thone fit in?"

  "This is something that has to be tracked down in a series ofanalytical sessions, so all I can do is guess. If one is unable toreach a goal in a real environment, the obvious answer is to create afantasy world. That's what you appear to be doing. It's a dangeroussituation, Mr. Bennett. Potentially, at least."

  "How so?" Bennett asked, alarmed.

  "The general tendency is toward greater and greater divorcement fromreality. I suggest immediate treatment by a competent analyst. If youdon't know of one, I can recommend several."

  "I'd like to think it over."

  "Do that," Hall said. "And call me when you've decided."

  * * * * *

  The third day after he consulted the neurologist, Bennett's headachereturned. As before, drugs were of no help. When the pain becameblinding, he lay back on his bed, placed a cold cloth on his forehead,and closed his eyes.

  Suddenly the realities he knew were gone and he was back in thedream-city of Thone.

  Persons and objects were much clearer now. Bennett saw that he lay ina receptacle shaped like a rectangular metal box. It was padded,reminding him unpleasantly of a coffin. The woman he had seen beforewas again with him, but now he knew that her name was Lima. Behind herstood a man; a tall, dark man whose eyebrows joined over the bridge ofhis nose, and whose forehead was creased in a permanent frown. Thewoman held out her arms to Bennett. Her lips moved, but no sound camefrom them.

  Bennett's spirit seemed to rise from the flesh--he could see his bodystill lying there--and he followed the woman. As he approached sheretreated and, try as he would to reach her, she remained just beyondhis grasp.

  After what seemed hours of futile pursuit, a cloud formed between himand the woman. When it dissipated, he had left the world of Thone. Hewas in a trolley-bus, in his own world, and vaguely he recalled havingleft his room, gone down to the street, and boarded thetrolley--during the time he had followed Lima, in his hallucination.It seemed that he had a definite destination then, but now he couldnot recall what it had been.

  His attention was drawn to the outside by the flickering of lightsthat flashed in through the bus windows. Bennett looked out and sawthat he was in the Pleasure Section of the city, traveling through theStreet of Carnivals. He watched the fronts of the amusement buildingspass before him and he read their advertisements listlessly.

  Suddenly one sign seemed to spring out from all the others:

  LIMAMYSTIC OF THE MIND

  He left the trolley at the next corner and made his way through thecrowd to the brightly lit carnival building.

  Inside, he found a chair and seated himself. The show's act appearedabout half over. It was pretty evidently charlatan stuff, Bennettdecided, but the black-hooded mystic on the stage held his attention.She was a tall woman, with a slender figure and fair flesh. She waspoised, or perhaps it was indifference to the crowd.

  A runner went through the audience touching articles of clothing orornaments, and the woman without hesitation named each one he touched.The act was slightly different from most Bennett had seen in that therunner said nothing, merely touching the articles to be named.

  The next portion of the show consisted of a mind-reading act. Bennettexpected the usual routine of writing a question on paper, which wouldbe sealed in an envelope and placed in a container on the stage.


  He was surprised when the runner returned to the crowd and asked forvolunteers for thought-reading.

  A short man with a bright yellow necktie raised his hand. The runnermade his way through the crowd to the man and touched him on theshoulder before turning back to the mystic. He still said nothing.

  "This man is thinking that he should have stayed at home tonight," themystic said. "There are wrestling matches on the teletone, and hewould have enjoyed them more than this show. Besides, he would havespent less money that way than he has tonight. And he does not liketo spend money unless he must."

  A titter of amusement went through the crowd as the man blushed a dullcrimson.

  The runner touched a second man.

  "This man wishes to know the winner in the eighth race