The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,52
I were free to choose, I might focus my attentions on gleaning those people who show the rest of us so little respect.”
“Well said, Aretha! Who’s next?”
Underscythe Nietzsche cleared his throat and spoke up. “We have conquered racism by blending the world into a single people, combining all the finest qualities of every genetic ethnicity… but there are those—particularly in fringe areas—whose genetic indices are skewed heavily in one direction. And worse, there are some who actually attempt to increase a genetic leaning in their children by choice of mate. If I had my druthers, perhaps I would glean these genetic outliers, and thereby create a more homogeneous society.”
“A noble cause,” praised Goddard.
“Short people!” said Scythe Rand. “Can’t stand them. As far as I’m concerned, they’ve got no reason to live.”
That brought forth laughter from around the table. From everyone, that is, but Constantine, who grinned and shook his head, but it seemed a grin of bitterness rather than good humor.
“What about you, Constantine?” Goddard asked. “Who would you glean?”
“As bias has always been out of the question, I haven’t given it any thought,” the crimson scythe said.
“But you were the scythedom’s chief investigator. Aren’t there certain types you’d like to see removed? People who commit acts against the scythedom, perhaps?”
“People who act against the scythedom are already gleaned,” Constantine pointed out. “That’s not a bias—that is self-defense and has always been allowed.”
“So how about those who are likely to act against the scythedom,” Goddard suggested. “A simple algorithm could predict who is at risk for such behavior.”
“Are you saying we should glean people for an offense before they actually commit one?”
“I’m saying that it is our solemn duty to provide a service to humankind. A gardener does not randomly shove his shears into a hedge. He thoughtfully shapes it. As I’ve said before, it is our job—it is our responsibility—to shape humankind toward its best possible self.”
“It doesn’t matter, Robert,” said Underscythe Franklin. “We’re bound by the commandments—this thought experiment of yours can’t be applied to the real world.”
Goddard just smiled at her and leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles. The sound made Scythe Rand grimace. It always did.
“If the bar can’t be lowered,” Goddard said slowly, “then the floor must be raised.”
“Meaning?” asked Constantine.
And so Goddard spelled it out clearly for them. “We all agree that we can’t show bias…,” he said. “So we merely change the definition of bias.”
“Can we… do that?” Nietzsche asked.
“We’re scythes; we can do anything we please.” Then Goddard swiveled to Rand. “Ayn—pull up the definition for me.”
Rand leaned over, tapped on the tabletop screen, then read aloud. “Bias: an inclination for or against one person or group, especially in a way considered to be unfair.”
“All right, then,” said Goddard, magnanimously jovial. “Who would like the first shot at redefining it?”
* * *
“Scythe Rand, a word.”
“With you, Constantine, it’s never just a word.”
“I promise I’ll be brief.”
Ayn sincerely doubted it, but she had to admit she was curious. Constantine, like Goddard, loved to hear himself talk, but never singled her out for conversation. The crimson scythe was always a wet blanket on a damp day. They had never had much love for each other, so why would he want to talk to her now?
It was right after their little meeting of the minds. Nietzsche and Franklin had already left, and Goddard had retired into his personal suite, leaving the two of them alone.
“I’ll take the elevator with you,” she told him, since she was on her way down from the crystalline residence to get something to eat. “You can fill that trip with all the words you want.”
“Can I assume that Goddard has all conversations in his elevator monitored?” Constantine asked.
“He does,” Ayn told him, “but I’m the one who handles the monitoring, so you’re safe.”
Constantine began his piece the moment the elevator doors closed, but as was his way, he began with a question, as if this were an interrogation.
“Does it concern you, Scythe Rand, the sheer volume of change Goddard is bringing to bear on the scythedom this early in his reign as High Blade?”
“He’s doing exactly what he said he’d do,” Ayn answered. “Redefining the role and methods of our scythedom for a new age. Is that a problem, Constantine?”
“It would be prudent to allow one change to settle before compounding it with others,” Constantine said. “And I have the distinct feeling you agree… and that you’re also worried about the decisions he’s making.”