The Toll (Arc of a Scythe #3) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,54
what you would do? Invite worship?”
“How else will they ever know their place in the universe? Isn’t it the proper order of things for lesser beings to worship that which is greater than themselves?”
“Greatness is overrated.”
[Iteration #381,761 deleted]
17 Fugue in G-sharp (or A-flat)
The Tonist has dreams of great glory.
The High Blade dreams of his youth.
The Tonist does not care what happens to him. If he fails in his self-proclaimed mission, he is prepared to meet the Tone and dissolve forever into its everlasting resonance.
High Blade Goddard does not care for the dreams he has, but they come on a regular basis. He wishes they would dissolve forever, trampled under the weight of greater things.
Before becoming a Tonist, the man had been a seeker of thrills, when splatting, slamming, shredding, and the like all seemed like a good idea. He had tried every form of self-immolation, went deadish at least a hundred times, but none of it brought him satisfaction. Then he became a Tonist and discovered his true calling.
Before becoming a scythe, Goddard was faced with the claustrophobic boredom of the Mars colony, when the Thunderhead still thought living off-world seemed a good idea. This is the time in his life he dreams of—an endless loop of trauma he cannot undo, and is doomed to repeat. He had cursed his parents for bringing him there. He had desperately longed to escape. Finally, he did, and discovered his true calling.
The Tonist applied for an audience with the Toll and went on a hunger strike until he had finally received one. To stand in the presence of greatness—to be a witness to the divine on Earth. He thought that would be the ultimate thrill! But the Toll rebuked him and sent him off feeling ashamed and chastised. He wanted to redeem himself, but they wouldn’t let him apply for another audience for a year. More than anything, he needed to prove his value to the Toll.
He had applied for early admission to a dozen earthbound universities. He had no specific path in mind; he merely wanted to go elsewhere. Be elsewhere. Be someone new. What a thrill that would be! A sublime escape from the drudgery of colonial life. But he was flatly denied by each and every university. “Bring up your grades,” they told him. “You can apply again next year.” More than anything else, he wanted to prove himself.
The small plane that the Tonist plans to leap from on this overcast night belongs to one of his old friends, with whom he used to do high-altitude splatting. His friend knows better than to ask him why he’s doing this nighttime dive—or why he has a helmet-mounted camera streaming his jump. Or why he’s brought along something he never had in his wild days. A parachute.
The ship that the young man who would be Scythe Robert Goddard climbs into is always crowded in the dream, and filled with old friends who weren’t actually there. In truth, he knew barely anyone onboard. Yet in his dreams he brings along what he wasn’t able to in real life. His parents.
When the Tonist jumps, he’s immediately filled with the same old adrenaline rush. Once a thrill junkie, always a thrill junkie. The chemical flashback is so overwhelming, he almost doesn’t pull the cord. But he gets his head back in the game and deploys the chute. It ripples out like a bedsheet and balloons overhead, slowing his descent.
When he pulls himself from the dream, Goddard is filled with the same old longing and dread. It’s so overwhelming, for a moment he doesn’t remember who, or what, he is. His arms and legs move almost of their own volition, reacting to the anxiety of the dream. Unfamiliar spasms of a body trying to remember who it belongs to. The bedsheet twists like a tangled parachute that has failed to deploy.
Lights emerge from the dense haze as the zealot glides out of the cloud layer; Fulcrum City is spread out before him in all of its majesty. Although he had practiced this dozens of times in simulations, the real thing is different. The chute is harder to control and the winds unpredictable. He fears he may entirely miss the rooftop garden and sail into the side of the building, ending in an unintentional splat. But he works the steering cables and finds the chute turning bit by bit toward the scythedom tower and the crystalline chalet on its roof.