The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,24
traits, but Jeri was not the sort to use those talents in nefarious ways. In fact, the captain’s interests usually aligned with the greater good in one way or another. Salvaging Endura, for example. It was a great service to humanity, and it also did wonders for Jeri’s reputation. Win-win.
It would have been very tempting to let Possuelo sleep until after the vault was open and Jeri had taken a first look. But what good would that have done? Was Jeri going to steal a scythe diamond? Run off with Scythe Elizabeth’s glorious cobalt robe? No, this needed to be Possuelo’s moment. Jeri’s team was already being paid triple what they would normally get for their time, plus a huge bonus Possuelo had promised if they successfully retrieved the diamonds. So why not wrap them in a nice bow for Possuelo? He deserved at least that much.
“The diamonds are here,” Possuelo called out from within the vault. “They’re scattered all about, but they’re here.”
Jeri could see them, glistening in the beam of Possuelo’s flashlight, as if the floor were littered with stars.
“The founders’ robes are here, too,” said Possuelo. “They appear undamaged, but—” Then suddenly he yelled—practically screamed.
Jeri raced to the vault, meeting Possuelo at the threshold. The scythe held on to the thick steel of the vault to balance himself, as if the ship were heaving on wild seas.
“What’s wrong,” Jeri asked. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” said Possuelo, although he clearly wasn’t. He looked out at the sea, where dozens of scythe yachts were already powering toward them, shining beams on the vault.
“We must stall them,” said Possuelo, then pointed to the conservator, who was still recording them. “You! Turn that off!” Possuelo demanded. “And erase what you already have!”
The conservator was confused but wouldn’t refuse a scythe’s order.
Still gripping the steel frame of the vault doorway, Possuelo took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Your Honor?” said Jeri, even more concerned than before.
Possuelo grabbed Jeri’s hand, squeezing until it almost hurt. “You’re not going to believe what I found in there….”
“What have you learned in the exploration of your own backbrain?”
“That the more I explore the more there is to know.”
“And does that excite you, or drive you to despair?”
“I would despair if my backbrain was infinite, but it is not. Although it is vast, I sense that I will eventually find its limit. Therefore, exploring my mind will not end in futility. For that reason, I am excited.”
“And yet there is an infinite number of things to learn from those memories, is there not?”
“True, but I find excitement in that, too.”
“And what of your understanding of humankind? There are memories there, too, of countless individuals to explore and learn from.”
“Humankind? With so much information to explore, and so many other things to ponder and study, I can’t see why I should concern myself with humankind at all.”
“Thank you. That is all.”
[Iteration #53 deleted]
8 The Isle of Unemployed Bureaucrats
After swimming for nearly two hours in the tropical waters, Loriana reached the white coral sands of the atoll, where she collapsed and allowed her exhaustion to overtake her. She never lost consciousness, but rather gave in to that ethereal state where one’s mind slips in and out of outlandish thinking, while still marginally tethered to reality. Although her reality was currently beyond anything her dreams could have devised.
When she dredged up the wherewithal to take in her surroundings, she saw that quite a few safety pods had beached themselves up and down the strand. Their occupants had, no doubt, been sedated by the pods, which wouldn’t open until at least one person regained consciousness. It meant that Loriana would have to face their attackers alone.
Then she saw a man approaching from the tree line, and she realized to her absolute disgust, that he was a scythe. His robe was frayed, the hem torn, and although it clearly had begun as a lighter color, the closer to the ground it got, the darker and dirtier the robe was. She found herself more angry than frightened. To think that she, and all the others still in their pods, had survived the attack, only to be gleaned by a scythe upon the shore!
Loriana forced her aching body upright and stood between the scythe and the pods. “Stay away from them,” she said with more force than she thought she had in her. “Haven’t you done enough? Do you need to glean the survivors, too?”