F. Wilson: Wheels Within Wheels

Jebinose was one of those mistakes that blot the early history of man’s interstellar colonization. In the old days of the splinter colonies, exploration teams were sent out to find Earth-class planets and now and then one of these teams became a little careless. A major criterion for colonizable classification was the absence of an “intelligent” native species. No one was quite sure just exactly what was meant by

“intelligent” but tool-making was the favorite rule of thumb for dividing the intelligent from unintelligent.

The Jebinose fiasco had nothing to do with interpretation of the rules. The fact of the matter is that Jebinose was given an “M” classification (Earth-type, suitable for settling) after the most cursory of examinations. The colonists were indeed surprised when they found out that they were sharing the planet with a tribe of primitive humanoids.

No one knows too much about the early colonial history of Jebinose. The splinter colony that landed there was conspicuous only by reason of its particular ineptitude at the task of colonization. But for the Vanek, not a single member would have survived a decade.

The Vanek are an alien enigma. They are quiet, humble, peaceful, fatalistic. They are few in number, in tensely religious and welcomed all newcomers to their fold. They are humanoid with blue-gray skin and long spindly arms. Their civilization had reached a plateau in its development and they were quite willing to let it remain there. They swallowed up the colonists.

The cross-breeding phenomenon between human and Vanek has yet to be explained. There are many theories but not one has received general acceptance. No matter … it worked. The Jebinose colony, as in the case of many other splinter colonies, was completely forgotten until the new Federation tried to order the chaos of the omnidirectional human migration. By the time it was rediscovered, human and Vanek genes had been pooled into a homogeneous mixture.

Much heated debate ensued. Some argued that since the original colony had been completely absorbed, resettlement would, in effect, be interference with an alien culture. Others argued that the Vanek were now part human and thus had a right to Terran technology … and besides, Jebinose was favorably situated in regard to the emerging trade routes.

Jebinose was resettled.

The Vanek had settled in one of the agricultural regions and it was through this area that Junior wandered. Eventually he came upon the town of Danzer. It was a tiny place consisting of eight buildings, a general store-restaurant among them. Locals and Vaneks peopled the dirt street that ran down the middle of the town. On each side of the street ran a raised wooden boardwalk; Junior found a shady spot on one of these and sat down.

He had been walking for days and was bone weary. A cool breeze helped evaporate the sweat beading his face. A middle-aged man glanced at him from across the street and then came over for a closer look.

“You’re new around here, I believe,” he said to Junior, as he stuck out his hand. “I’m Marvin Heber and I like to know everyone around.”

Joe shook the hand. “My name’s Junior Finch and I’m very new around here.”

“Just moved in, huh?”

“No, I’m just wandering around the region to see what I can see.” The man was friendly but nosey so Junior decided to play it safe and be as oblique as possible. “Lot of virgin land left around here.”

Marvin Heber nodded and eyed the newcomer. “If you want to settle, I’m sure we can find a place for you.”

As Junior was trying to think of what to say next, an elderly, spindle-armed beggar in a dusty robe came up to him and asked for alms. His skin was bluish gray. Junior dropped a few small coins in the proffered alms bowl. “Wheels within wheels, bendreth, ” said the beggar.

“Was that a Vanek?” he asked as the beggar walked away. “I’ve heard they’re common in this region, but that’s the first one I’ve seen since I arrived.”

“They keep pretty much to themselves and only come into town to buy supplies now and then.

There’s always a beggar or two about, however.”

Junior said nothing but looked sincerely interested. He recognized Heber for a talker and was quite ready to prove a willing audience.

“They spend most of their time fooling around on their reservation, meditating and carving their little statues.”

“What little statues are those?” Junior asked.

Heber took this opportunity to sit down and share Junior’s shade. “You won’t see any around here.

Some company in the city buys them up as fast as the Vanek can turn them out and sells them as curios-`Handmade by alien half-breeds.’ They’re pretty popular over most of the settled galaxy. The Vanek have no financial worries, no, sir.”

“Then why do they beg?”

Heber shrugged. “It’s somehow mixed up in their religion which nobody really understands. You heard him say, ‘Wheels within wheels’ after you gave him some coins.”

“Yeah,” Junior said. “Then he said, `bendreth: What does that mean?”

“Not much. Bendreth is the Vanek equivalent of `sir’ or `madam.’ They say that to just about everybody. `Wheels within wheels’ has something to do with their religion. According to tradition, a wise old Vanek philospher with an unpronounceable name came up with the theory that the universe was a conglomeration of wheels, wheels within wheels within wheels within wheels. It got to the point where the only answer, or comment, he would make about anything was a simple ‘Wheels within wheels.’ It’s a very fatalistic philosophy; they believe that everything works out in the end so they rarely take any decisive action. They figure the wheels will turn full circle without their help.” He paused.

“Did you notice the crack in the begging bowl, by the way?”

Junior nodded. “Looked like it had been broken and then glued back together.”

“That’s part of the religion, too. You see, that old philosopher went to a banquet once-this was in the ancient days when the Vanek were rather barbaric-and the chief of the tribe sought to question him on his philosophy. Of course the only answer he could get was ‘Wheels within wheels.’ This annoyed the chief but he contained his anger until they all sat down at the eating table. During the meal it is said that the old philosopher uttered his favorite phrase over two hundred fifty times. The chief finally flew off the handle and broke a heavy earthen salad bowl over the old man’s head, killing him. So now all the Vanek beggars carry an earthen salad bowl that they have broken and then repaired as a sign that the old man did not die in vain.”

Junior shook his head in wonder. “They must be strange folk. Do the local Terrans get along with them?”

“I guess ‘get along’ is about the only way you could put it,” Heber admitted. “There’s no open animosity between the two groups, but there’s no friendship either. The Vanek float in and out of town and have no effect on the Terrans. I guess there are cases where the Vanek are discriminated against by the Terrans, but it’s a passive thing. Most Terrans have little or no respect for the Vanek because the Vanek don’t seem to care about respect and do nothing to engender it.

“It’s not racial enmity as many outsiders might think.” He cast a significant glance at Junior as he said this. “The fact that the Vanek are partially alien has little to do with it; that’s a minor difference. There’re other differences.”

“Like what?” Junior asked.

“For one thing there’s no first-person singular pronoun in the Vanek language. Some people thought this was a sign of group consciousness but that was disproved. It’s just that they don’t think of themselves as individuals. This makes it hard for Terrans to relate to them as individuals and thus it’s hard to respect them as individuals.”