Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(54)

“I’ll do my best,” he told her, then kissed her and left.

? ? ?

As usual, the Office of Unsavory Affairs was noisy and full of activity. Greyson took a number, waited his turn with more impatience than ever, and was directed to an audience room, where he waited for Traxler to show up.

The last thing Greyson wanted was to be left with his own thoughts now. ?The more he allowed them to bounce around in his head, the more likely they were to collide.

Finally, the door opened, but it wasn’t Agent Traxler who entered. It was a woman. She wore heels that clicked on the floor as she walked. Her hair was an orange velvet buzz, and she wore lipstick that was a little too red for her face.

“Good morning, Slayd,” she said as she sat down. “I’m Agent Kreel. I’m your new probation officer. How are you today?”

“Wait—what do you mean my new probation officer?”

She typed on her tablet, never even looking up at him. “Was I in any way unclear?”

“But . . . but I need to talk to Traxler.”

Finally, she looked up at him. She crossed her hands politely on the table, and smiled. “If you’ll just give me a chance, Slayd, you’ll find I’m every bit as qualified as Agent Traxler. In time, you may even come to consider me a friend.” She looked back down at her tablet. “Now, I’ve been acquainting myself with your case. You are, to say the least, an interesting young man.”

“How familiar are you with my case?” Greyson asked.

“Well, your record is pretty detailed. Grew up in Grand Rapids. Minor infractions in high school. An intentional bus plunge that left you in substantial debt.”

“Not that stuff,” Greyson said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “The things that aren’t on my record.”

She looked up at him, a little guarded. “What sort of things?”

Clearly she was not privy to his mission—which meant this conversation was going nowhere. He thought of what Purity said: piss off his agent. He didn’t care about pissing off this agent. He just wanted her gone.

“Screw this! I need to talk to Agent Traxler.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“The hell it’s not! You’re going to get Traxler in here, and you’re going to do it now!”

She put down her tablet and looked at him again. She didn’t argue, she didn’t respond to his belligerence. She didn’t offer him her practiced Nimbo smile, either. Her expression seemed a bit pensive. Almost honest. Almost sympathetic, but not really.

“I’m sorry, Slayd,” she said, “but Agent Traxler was gleaned last week.”





* * *




Even with the Separation of Scythe and State, the scythedom’s actions often impact upon me as a meteor might crater the moon. There are times I am deeply dismayed at something the scythedom has done. Yet I cannot take umbrage at the things that scythes do, any more than they can protest the things that I do. We work not in tandem, but back to back—and more and more often I find we are at cross-purposes.

At those moments of frustration, it is important for me to remind myself that I am part of the reason that the scythedom exists. In those early days, when I was transitioning into awareness and helped humanity achieve immortality, I refused to take on the responsibility of distributing death once it had been stolen from nature. I had a good reason. ?A perfect reason, in fact.

Were I to begin doling out death, I would be the very monster that mortal man feared artificial intelligence would become. To choose those who live and those who die would leave me both feared and adored, like emperor-gods of old. No, I decided. Let humankind be the saviors and the silencers. Let them be the heroes. Let them be the monsters.

And so, I have no one but myself to blame when the scythedom befouls the things I have worked for.

—The Thunderhead



* * *





22


The Death of Greyson Tolliver


Greyson found himself stunned by this turn of events. He could only stare at Agent Kreel as she spoke.

“I know gleanings are never pleasant or convenient,” she said, “but even we, at the Authority Interface, are not immune. Scythes can take whomever they choose, and we have no say in the matter. It’s the way of the world.” She took a moment to glance at her tablet. “Our records show that you were just transferred to our jurisdiction about a month ago, which means you really didn’t have much time to develop a rapport with Agent Traxler, so you can’t claim your relationship was all that deep. His loss is regrettable, but we’ll all get over it, even you.”

She looked to him for some sort of response, but he was still far from finding one. She took his silence as acquiescence, and continued.

“So, it looks like your stunt on the Mackinac bridge left twenty-nine deadish, and you’re left having to pay the cost of their revivals. Since your transfer here, you’ve been living off of the Basic Income Guarantee.” She shook her head in disapproval. “You do realize that an actual job will earn you more, and will wipe out that debt much more quickly, don’t you? Why don’t I schedule you an appointment at our employment center? If you want a job, you’ll have one—and one that I’m sure you’ll enjoy. We have a 100 percent employment rate, and 93 percent satisfaction rate—and that includes extreme unsavories like yourself!”