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
Illustrated by DON SIBLEY
Never ask "Who am I and where do I come from?" The answersmay not be what you'd expect!
hen 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 y