Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(99)
“And unlike Xenocrates, I won’t delegate my underscythes to the periphery to deal with minutiae,” says Curie.
I am pleased that Scythe Curie is already talking like a High Blade. Even with no contact with the scythedom, I can recognize a worthy leader. Xenocrates was functional, nothing more. These times call for someone exceptional. I am not privy to the vote tally, because the scythedom’s server is cut off from me, so I can only hope that either the vote or the inquest will favor Scythe Curie.
“As nice as it is to see you, Michael, I imagine this is not just a social call,” says Scythe Curie. She takes a moment to look around, sparing only the briefest glance at the man sitting a few tables over, sipping tea. The “man” only pretends to sip the tea now, because its internal bladder is full and needs to be drained.
“No, it’s not a social call,” Scythe Faraday admits, “and forgive me for dragging you so far from home, but I felt meeting in MidMerica might draw unwanted attention.”
“I enjoy EastMerica,” says Curie, “especially the coastal regions. I don’t get here enough.” She and Anastasia wait for Faraday to explain the meaning of this summit. I am particularly curious how he’ll broach the subject for which he has gathered them. I listen intently.
“We have uncovered something remarkable,” Faraday begins. “You’ll think I’ve lost my mind when you hear what I have to tell you, but believe me, I have not.” Then he stops and defers to his assistant. “Munira, as you made the discovery, would you be so kind as to enlighten our friends?”
“Of course, Your Honor.”
She then pulls out an image of the Pacific Ocean, covered with a crosshatch of flight paths. It clearly shows the space over which no planes have crossed. The void is of no concern to me. I never needed to route planes over this spot of open sea, simply because there were better routes that took advantage of prevailing winds. The only thing that troubles me is that I never noticed it before.
They put forth their theory that this is the location of the mythical Land of Nod, and the founders’ failsafe, should the scythedom fail.
“There’s no guarantee,” qualifies Munira. “All we know for sure is that the blind spot exists. We believe the founders programmed the Thunderhead just before it achieved awareness to ignore its existence. They hid it from the rest of the world. We can only guess at the reason.”
This theory does not trouble me in the least. And yet I know that it should. I am now troubled by how little I am troubled.
“You’ll forgive me, Michael, if my concerns are more immediate,” Scythe Curie tells him. “If Goddard becomes High Blade, it will open a door that cannot be closed.”
“You should come with us to Endura, Scythe Faraday,” urges Anastasia. “The Grandslayers will listen to you.”
But, of course, Faraday declines the invitation with a shake of his head. “The Grandslayers already know what’s going on out there, and they are split as to what direction the scythedom should take.” He pauses to look at the map still spread out before them. “If the scythedom falls into disarray, the founders’ failsafe may be the only hope to save it.”
“We don’t even know what that failsafe is!” Anastasia points out.
To which Faraday replies, “There’s only one way to find out.”
Now Scythe Curie’s heart accelerates from seventy-two to eighty-four beats per minute, most likely the result of an adrenaline surge. “If a piece of the world has been hidden for hundreds of years, there’s no telling what you’ll find there. It won’t be under Thunderhead control, which means it could very well be dangerous—even deadly—and there won’t be a revival center to bring you back if it is.”
As an aside, it pleases me that Scythe Curie has perspective enough to realize that my absence there is a perilous thing. And yet I don’t find it perilous myself. I don’t find it problematic. I should. I make a note that I must contribute substantial processing time to analyze my unusual lack of concern.
“Yes, we’ve considered the danger,” Munira confirms. “Which is why we’re headed to the old Columbia District first.”
Scythe Curie’s entire physiology changes again at the mention of the old Columbia District. Her most infamous gleanings took place there, before I divided North Merica into more manageable regions. Although I never requested her intervention in doing away with the corrupt vestiges of mortal government, I can’t deny that it made my work easier to accomplish.
“Why go there?” she asks, not hiding her distaste. “It’s nothing but ruins and memories best forgotten.”
“There are historians in D.C. that maintain the old Library of Congress,” Munira explains. “Physical volumes that may have things we can’t find in the backbrain.”
“I hear the place is lousy with unsavories,” says Anastasia.
Munira gives her a haughty look. “I may not be a scythe, but I once apprenticed under Scythe Ben-Gurion. I can handle myself against unsavories.”
Scythe Curie puts her hand on Faraday’s, which causes his heart rate to slightly elevate, as well. “Wait, Michael,” she implores. “Wait until after the inquest. If all goes as we hoped, I can arrange a formal expedition to the blind spot. And if not, I’ll join you on your quest, because I will not remain in a scythedom helmed by Goddard.”