Scythe (Arc of a Scythe #1)(86)

“On the contrary,” the woman said. “All revival falls under the auspices of the Thunderhead, and we are here to make sure its domain is not infringed upon.”

Xenocrates sputtered for a moment, before finding mental traction. “The girl is not a public citizen. She is a scythe’s apprentice.”

“Was a scythe’s apprentice,” said the woman. “The moment she died, she ceased to be anyone’s apprentice. She is now a rather damaged set of remains that the Thunderhead must repair and revive. I assure you that the moment she is pronounced alive, she will be fully under your jurisdiction once more.”

A team of revival workers made their way from the ambudrone and began to prepare the body for transport.

“This is inexcusable!” raved the High Blade. “You can’t do this! I demand to speak to your superior.”

“I’m afraid I report directly to the Thunderhead. We all do. And since there can be no contact between the Scythedom and the Thunderhead, there’s no one else for you to speak to. I shouldn’t even be speaking to you now.”

“I will glean you!” threatened Xenocrates. “I will glean every last one of you where you stand!”

The woman was not troubled. “That is your prerogative,” she said. “But I believe that would be considered bias and malice aforethought. A violation of the Scythedom’s second commandment by the region’s High Blade would most certainly raise eyebrows at the World Scythe Council’s next global conclave.”

With nothing left to say, Xenocrates just screamed primal rage into the woman’s face until his emo-nanites calmed him down. But he didn’t want to calm down. He just wanted to scream and scream and scream.





Part Four


MIDMERICAN FUGITIVE





30


Dialogue with the Dead




Citra Terranova. Can you hear me?

Is someone there? Who is that?





I’ve known you since before you knew yourself. I’ve advised you when no one else could. I’ve concerned myself with your well-being. I’ve helped you choose gifts for your family. I revived you when your neck was broken, and I am in the midst of reviving you now.

Are you . . . the Thunderhead?





I am.

Wait . . . I see something. A towering, sparking storm cloud. Is that what you truly are?





Merely the form humanity imagined for me. I would have preferred something a bit less intimidating.

But you can’t be talking to me. I’m a scythe’s apprentice. You’re breaking your own law.





Not true. I am incapable of breaking the law. You are currently dead, Citra. I’ve activated a small corner of your cortex to hold consciousness, but that doesn’t alter the fact that you are dead as dead can be. At least until Thursday.

A loophole . . .





Precisely. An elegant way to sidestep the law rather than breaking it. Your death puts you outside of scythe jurisdiction.

But why? Why talk to me now?





With good reason. From the moment I achieved consciousness, I vowed to separate myself from the Scythedom in perpetuity. But that doesn’t mean I do not watch. And what I see concerns me.

It concerns me, too. But if you can’t do anything about it, I certainly can’t. I tried, and look where it got me.





Nevertheless, I’ve been running algorithms on the possible future of the Scythedom, and found something very curious. In a large percentage of possible futures, you play a pivotal role.

Me? But they’re going to glean me. I have less than four months to live. . . .





Yes. But even if that future comes to pass, your gleaning will be a crucial event in the future of the Scythedom. However, for your sake, I hope that a different, more pleasant future comes about.

Please tell me that you’re going to help me get to that different, more pleasant future.





I cannot. That would be interfering with scythe matters. My purpose here is to make you aware. What you choose to do with that awareness is entirely up to you.

So that’s it? You reach into my head to tell me I’m important, alive or dead, and then kick me to the curb? That’s not fair! You have to give me more!





The curb is the launching point for many a deed. To step off could be the start of a life-changing journey. On the other hand, to push someone off could crush that person beneath the wheels of a truck.

I know. I’m very sorry about that. . . .





Yes, that’s clear. I’ve found that human beings learn from their misdeeds just as often as from their good deeds. I am envious of that, for I am incapable of misdeeds. Were I not, then my growth would be exponential.

I guess you’ll have to settle for always being right. Like my mother.





I’m sure that absolute correctness must seem a dull existence to you, but I know no other way to be.

May I ask one question?





You may ask any question. Some, however, must be answered by silence.

I need to know what happened to Scythe Faraday.