​

    “I don’t want a big family, Uncle Tod. In fact, I made up my mind two winters ago not to marry.”

    Great Uncle Tod gazed benevolently at his brother’s eldest grandson. He reversed several wheel turns and opened his mouth to speak. Rod anticipated him.

    “I know, I know! You said the same when you were only sixteen winters. Great Aunt Toda told me. And she added that my present phase wouldn’t last.”   

    “Yes. She can be annoying.” Great Uncle Tod trundled jerkily backwards and forwards as he fought for words that Rod would find less provoking. His aging wheels issued high pitched arthritic squeaks as they negotiated the rail or track near the spiral centre. The curves there were much tighter than in the outer spiral regions, and as he aged, he found them increasingly difficult.

    “Uncle!” Rod’s voice rose irritably. “With all due respect, couldn’t you keep still for one single moment?”

    Tod came painfully and apologetically to rest against the central buffer. He drew a deep breath. “Without good track support, life is grim. In my youth, I was a champion track layer. 521 wheel-turns before my Pause.”

    “Why should I worry?” Rod cut in. “I might even inherit a complete family track.”

    “Rod. Please listen!” Tod wondered when he had last persuaded anyone of anything. “Thanks to Aarod1, much has improved. But single Ods still face bleak prospects. Marry soon! Your children can lay track. And your little brother Fod? He’s not strong. How will you support him?”

    “Marriage -it’s just extra commitments!”

    “Rod! An ancient scroll tells of a society in which marriage was more. Some kind of closeness and pleasure – why not...”

    “Good-bye, Uncle. Let me know when you want to talk about something else and I might visit again.”

    Rod accelerated rapidly round the spiral towards its periphery, occasionally glancing back at his Great Uncle. The elderly Od was no longer upright on his six-wheel chassis, as if exhausted by the conversation. Tracks gleamed dully in the dim lighting of the family meeting chamber. Its walls had a damp and unhealthy appearance. Even at this distance, Rod thought he could see that Tod was about to speak yet again. Rod turned away and made a swift departure.

     "The wily old Od meant well,” he thought, as his wheels encountered the Mainway at an imprudent velocity. He was fond of his Great Uncle, if fond of any of his family. For Rod increasingly found many of his relatives to be as rigid in their thinking as their tracks.

    Great Uncle Tod forced his stiff wheels into motion in order to move beyond the chamber’s spiral circuits, just in time to see Rod’s shape dwindling precipitously into the distance. He admired Rod’s physical strength. Such speeds at a mere sixteen winters-that was really something!  However, Rod showed small consideration for the rest of the family in his reckless velocity. Stretches of purple Mainway immediately adjacent to their Todsh family intersection were thinning and worn shiny. In one place, hairline cracks were developing - zig-zagging patterns running in both directions. Track deterioration coincided with Rod’s sudden access to almost superOd levels of propulsion. It was only time now before the Council noticed.

    A spicy element of excitement invariably entered into Rod’s searches for his friend Ida. Ida was a scion of the huge Dadsh family, whose Domain was situated at one end of the Mainway. Todsh and Dadsh had not been on speaking terms for over two winters. Their respective Elders tried to enforce the antipathy upon all family members. Up to now, Rod and Ida were successfully ignoring these pressures.

    As he neared the junction of the Mainway with the track from the Hudsh family Domain, he cast cautious glances in all directions. Turquoise reeds hummed in the soft breeze. Growth was so luxuriant following the mild winter that the track itself was only visible for a few wheel turns. The vegetable exuberance was particularly helpful in preserving the two young Ods’ activities from prying eyes.

    Passing smoothly over the Hudsh intersection, he proceeded noiselessly. Deep purple garaths grew densely here, providing a gloomy, threatening frontage for the Dadsh Domain. Innumerable tracks to the disused mines, concealed by the gigantic plants, had been discovered by Rod and Ida. The flawless joins to the Mainway might escape detection by the youngest wheel. At one of these joins Rod halted. His scrutiny of the undulating plants revealed nothing untoward. The hissing of the wind did little to drown the harsh croaks from the large toad colony infesting the ill-kempt grounds of the Dadsh. Relaxing, he turned down the side track. Soon the light changed to delicate shades of yellows and greens. He was accelerating along an avenue of beautiful duilaths. Wavering rays of sunlight streamed through the waterfalls of foliage.

    Impulsively, Rod lifted a wheel and spun it at extreme velocity. A strange, high-pitched whistle was emitted by the rapid rubbing of tissue bearings against his front axle. Almost immediately, Ida emerged from a dark opening on the left, and together they wandered out of the avenue into direct sunlight. Ida appeared to be trembling with excitement, exaggerated by the turmoil sweeping the face of the sun. The shadows around them quivered continually; the intensity of the illumination rose and fell with a hypnotic rhythm; even colours underwent subtle changes: reality vacillated with the fragility of a bubble.

    “Ida. What on Epod have you been up to?” His lithe and agile friend was covered from top to wheels with grey slime; her face was pale and exhausted. He looked at her with affection, but also with some concern. 

    “What have I been up to? Just wait till I tell you.” Despite Ida’s obvious fatigue, her eyes flashed with enthusiasm. She spoke as rapidly as ever. “But- take care - our usual place please.”

    Further ahead, garaths grew densely, their purple fronds drooping down to the ground, their canopy admitting little light for more than a few wheel turns. Here, Rod and Ida had constructed a stop-off with generous dimensions behind the first layer of fronds, its existence scarcely detectable from the side track. They could rest side by side, talk face to face and monitor the outer world through the fronds, lest any unwanted Ods sought to spy.

    Once comfortably ensconced within, Ida resumed speaking. “Remember that long gallery - the one where the floor had given way for several wheel turns?”

    “Yes..” Rod mumbled self-consciously. He did not wish to remember. Ida, decidedly his junior, had calmly continued, undisturbed by the narrow but apparently bottomless pit which yawned suddenly beneath her wheels. Rod, on the other hand, had cried out with fear, and reared away out of the dark dank mine into the sunlight. Shortly, Ida had sallied forth, seemingly none the worse for wear, and had unwittingly increased Rod’s humiliation by tactfully ignoring his behaviour.

    “Well -I didn’t mention it at the time, but just beyond the pit, the track was blocked by a rock fall. I had a strange feeling about it. Ever since, in odd moments, I’ve returned and tried to dislodge the rubble. lt’s such a confined space that I could not use my limbs; I became covered in muck as I pushed as much of the debris as I could to one side.”

    “You didn’t enjoy the bottomless pit, then?”

    “No, not especially, and it’s not bottomless as well you know. I forced myself to accept it. Eventually, after hard work that might have challenged you..”

Rod started angrily, and then subsided.

“…I could see through. Before last sun-fall. I nearly untracked myself. I was so astonished. The track looked badly damaged-”

    “How far away was the buffer?” interrupted Rod.

    “That’s the whole point.” Ida’s voice rose to fever pitch. “There wasn’t one. The line stretches as far as the eye can see.”

    “No-no,” stammered Rod. “The Mainway ends at the Dadsh Domain and at the Temple. The stop must be there somewhere. You’re raving. You ought to see a Priest. Or a doctor.” He gazed fondly at Ida. He sometimes wondered why most Od relationships were so ‘thin’.

    “Rod. Haven’t I better things to do than to invent feeble stories?”

    “But then..” Rod trailed off into silence. He felt a chilling fear. The Mainway. So, it was not, as he had always believed from Odyhood, buffered at each end and connected only with the Temple, Todsh, the Dadsh, the Hudsh, the school and the other family Domains. It actually continued. What might invade from Outside, now that Ida had recklessly removed the rock fall? Dreadful fantasies suddenly flooded his imagination.

    Furious with himself, he tried desperately hard to speak in level tones.

    “No- no, I accept what you are saying. Just a bit of a shock. You’d better show me, Ida.”

    “I will. Before I do, though, there are one or two more things I’ve found out.” Ida’s speciously casual tones suggested that there were, in fact, several more things.

    “Go on,” he encouraged with contrived enthusiasm.

    “Well - first of all, I’ve discovered why our families are not too fond of each other. There’s a new Scroll out by the Librarian.”

R    od’s face betrayed no more than polite interest. He had no involvement in family politics.

    “In a sermon two winters ago, an intemperate priest defended, with the full weight of Temple Authority, certain Dadsh practices.”

    “What practices?” inquired Rod sharply. Ida had an annoying habit of wandering in her discourses.

    “Well..the Dadsh force their adolescents to lay about twice as much track as they would do naturally. Non-compliance triggers harsh punishments.”

    “You, too, Ida?”

I.   da laughed nervously. “Not yet. Lucky rather than smart?”

    Rod could detect no false modesty in his friend’s manner, although even a trace would have been nice.

    “I pretended that my natural track output is about one third of its true level. Anyhow, they now think that they’ve made me double it.. which I can easily manage. But I pretend it’s a struggle.”

    “I don't understand, Ida,” Rod exclaimed. “What did they believe your natural level to be?”

    Ida smiled.  “As much, if not more, than my peers.”

    “But that means you could exceed the Champion Records by..” Awestruck, Rod searched his friend’s face.

I.   da laughed. “It’s diet. I sample stuff in the wild, you know. Other Ods would never risk it.”

    “You could die of poisoning at any moment,” Rod asserted.

    “Rod- I've actually tried things. I'm adding one novel species at a time to my standard diet, and measuring very carefully how much track I lay with a given effort in the subsequent two days.”

    “Why haven't the Council acted? Slave labour is against Od Law. Doubling young Ods' output leads to arthritis later.”

    “You can't ignore Temple opinion, Rod, whatever the law. And the Dadsh claim that Aarod's dietary improvements have legitimated track-laziness- that they are simply returning their adolescents' functioning to their original ‘natural’ outputs. Where was I? Oh, yes. After that infamous sermon, the Todsh Elder severed diplomatic relations with the Dadsh and declared Passive War, accusing the Dadsh of unfair competition. They are rivals in the postal business, of course.”

    A shadow seemed to pass over her face. Rod stared round uneasily. For a few seconds, their immediate surroundings faded into a grey dusk, whilst the distant duilaths lost their beauty, taking on an ominous dark presence. Mercifully, daylight quickly returned. Since the termination of the last winter, the sun had perceptibly increased its eccentricities.

    “And the second thing you need to tell me, Ida?”

    “I’m afraid our association has been discovered.”

    “Oh - surely not. We’ve been so careful.. We avoid each other at school. My brother Fod probably knows, but he won’t tell.”

    “Sorry - it’s true. And by none other than Omdad the Priest himself. He would never have caught us if it had not been for this riotous jungle that we’ve been so pleased about. It’s even worse because he has not given us away. Whatever is behind his unsolicited discretion...”

    “Why didn’t you mention this before, Ida? How come you noticed him and I didn’t?”

    “I don’t really know – I just didn’t want to think about it.”

    The image of the Priest rose unbidden and unpleasantly in Ida's mind. The cleric had paused at the join of a disused track with the Mainway. Three great garaths flanked and overshadowed the scene at this point. His huge head had revolved ponderously, until the pale watery eyes, half-concealed by folds of leathery skin, had caught and pinned the scarcely visible forms of Ida and Rod through the stems. A voluminous purple cloak concealed his considerable girth. Perhaps Ida possessed an over-lively imagination. Yet it had seemed to her that the face of the Priest held a knowing look.

    For a while, the sun blazed out once more with an undimmed brilliance. The two Ods returned to Ida’s gallery. Ida took the bridge over the pit in an ostentatiously cautious fashion. They both paused beyond the rock fall.

    A wide barren landscape opened up before them. Neither garaths, duilaths, nor even the lowliest reed form softened the desolation of black rocky platforms tilted at shallow angles to each other. Occasional stone pinnacles reared at random intervals from the terraces. Sunlight glinted from crystalline spikes.

    Yet the tracks in front of them took no cognizance of the uneven surface. There were cuttings through solid rock. They could see many places where the routes were seriously warped and cracked. Nevertheless, numerous joins and stop-offs seemed to have been designed to facilitate efficient turning and overtaking.

    “No Od I’ve ever known could lay anything like that,” Rod remarked in matter-of-fact tones. “But whoever did it wanted maximum manoeuvrability!” He strove to mask his rising apprehension.

    They decided to venture no further for the time being, but would return at a time when unlikely to be missed. The sun was nearing the horizon in a deep orange wavering blaze as they headed back to their Domains.

~

It was almost sun-fall. Rod swayed dangerously on the worn track near his family junction, slowing to Ody pace. He paused to generate extra oil for his bearings, and crept stealthily along the hall track towards his room. Most of the Todsh Domain existed in constant semi-darkness - especially the hall areas. Like stop-offs, windows were an expensive luxury. None of this encouraged Ods’ reading habits. He passed a large door, firmly closed, housing the Od Reproduction Ward. He knew little more than that it was a unit that somehow ensured the constant supply of fresh Odys that would eventually become adult Ods, thus maintaining the OdCity population. Young adult Ods had to attend the Ward briefly for a procedure that was little spoken of, but was apparently painless.

    “Is that you, you good for nothing runt?” A nagging voice assailed him from the front room. His mother Eda of course, knew precisely who it was. Each Od has its own, unique idiosyncratic wheel sound.

    “Coming, Mum.” He manoeuvred and turned to enter the slightly brighter periphery of the front room spiral.

    “I’ve just seen Monida, the chief school praelector.” Her satisfaction was unconcealed. “Your absence from school was noticed last session.”

    Rod was thunderstruck. How could he possibly have been missed?

    “One thing you never thought of, for all you imagine you’ve wheels more intelligence than your senile and decrepit elders. Fire drill. When they check every single Od! Without the drill, who knows how many winters you would have carried on avoiding your responsibilities. We’re a poor family. One more winter, and you’ll be a full-time worker like the rest of us. And the sooner the better, to my way of thinking.”

    “You’re just jealous of the few miserable moments of satisfaction I snatch before joining you in this all-important work. Winters since you did that much of it,” Rod flung back at her.

    “Don’t speak to me like that!”

    “I’ll speak exactly as I choose,” cut in Rod savagely.

    “That’s done it,” his mother replied grimly. “I’m reporting your insolence to tomorrow’s Elder Meeting. You’re an appalling example to your brother Fod!”

    Rod's wheels quivered. He was aghast at his loss of control.

    “But Mum,” he pleaded. It was like trying to penetrate a buffer, but he could not prevent himself. His mother forestalled him.

    “I just don’t understand! Old Tod says he saw you off to school,” she complained. “Where were you going, if not to school?”

    Rod mentally cursed his Great Uncle for tale-bearing, though the old Od had probably been trying to do him a good turn.

    “Mum - I’m over sixteen winters now. For me, full-time schooling is no longer compulsory.  I told an Elder Meeting that I no longer wished to continue instruction. I offered to apprentice myself to..”

    “You dare to bring that up again? You had already committed yourself to more schooling. The Minutes are in the Records.” She advanced upon Rod, her skin red with fury.

    Rod retreated despairingly. At a mere fourteen winters, he had felt under considerable psychological pressure at an Elder Meeting to undertake more schooling. He had subsequently changed his mind. Was that never permitted?

“As for your apprenticeship offer,” her voice achieved fresh levels of disgust, “we, the Todsh – are the backbone of Od society-administrators, Priests, scribes, teachers,  musicians… and postmasters! Rotod noted your attempt to apprentice yourself to Akdad? An artisan. And of That Family.” She spurted oil from a back wheel with disgust. “Elder Rotod won't forget. There's a black mark against your name. He wonders how you ever heard of Akdad. He suspects, as I do, that you’ve fraternised with members of That Family at school - or rather, out of school, as you aren’t there these days."