The Toll (Arc of a Scythe) - Neal Shusterman Page 0,6

to be.

But that world was gone. The Thunderhead’s voice had gone silent now that human beings were all unsavory.

Jerico had been marked unsavory once before. As a teenager. It wasn’t hard to accomplish – just three instances of shoplifting from a local grocery. Jerico was smug about it for less than a day. Then the consequences began to set in. Being denied communication with the Thunderhead wasn’t a big deal for Jerico – but there were other things about the experience that were irksome. Unsavories were last in line for food in the school cafeteria and were always left with the dishes no one else wanted. Unsavories were moved to the front of the classroom, where the teachers could keep a watchful eye on them. And while Jerico wasn’t cut from the soccer team, probational meetings were always scheduled in direct conflict with games. It was clearly intentional.

Jerico used to think the Thunderhead was being spitefully passive-aggressive, but in time Jerico came to realize that the Thunderhead was merely making a point. Unsavorism was a choice, and one must decide if the things lost were worth the things gained.

Lesson learned. A taste of being unsavory was enough. It took three months of toeing the line for the big red U to be removed from Jerico’s ID, and once it was gone, there was no desire to repeat the experience.

“I’m pleased your status has been lifted,” the Thunderhead had said, once it was free to speak again. In response, Jerico had told the Thunderhead to turn on the bedroom lights – because giving it an order put the Thunderhead back in its place. It was a servant. It was everyone’s servant. It had to do as Jerico commanded. There was comfort in that.

And then came the schism between humanity and its greatest creation. Endura sank into the sea, and the Thunderhead declared the entirety of humankind unsavory all in the same moment. At the time, no one exactly knew what the loss of the World Scythe Council would mean for people, but the Thunderhead’s silence hurled the world into a collective panic. Unsavorism was no longer a choice – it was now a judgment. And silence was all it took to turn servitude into superiority. The servant became the master, and the world became all about pleasing the Thunderhead.

What can I do to lift this judgment? people cried. What can I do so that the Thunderhead finds favor in me once more? The Thunderhead never asked for adoration, yet people now gave it, creating elaborate hoops to jump through, hoping that the Thunderhead would take notice. Of course the Thunderhead did hear the cries of humanity. It still saw everything, but now it kept its opinions to itself.

Meanwhile, planes still flew, ambudrones were still dispatched for people who went deadish, food was still grown and distributed – the Thunderhead kept the world functioning in the same fine-tuned precision as before; it did what it saw fit for the human race as a whole. But if you wanted your desk lamp turned on, you had to do it yourself.

Scythe Possuelo stayed on the bridge, monitoring their progress for a bit longer. It was smooth sailing – but smooth sailing was a monotonous endeavor, especially to one not accustomed to it. He left to take breakfast in his quarters, his forest-green robe billowing behind him as he went down the narrow stairs toward the lower decks.

Jerico wondered what sort of things went through the scythe’s mind. Did he worry about tripping over his robe? Did he relive past gleanings? Or was he merely thinking about what he’d have for breakfast?

“He’s not a bad sort,” said Wharton, the ship’s deck watch officer, who had been in the position much longer than Jerico had had command of the ship.

“I actually like him,” said Jerico. “He’s a lot more honorable than some of the other ‘honorable scythes’ I’ve come across.”

“The fact that he chose us for this salvage says a lot.”

“Yes, I’m just not sure what it says.”

“I believe it says you chose your career path wisely.”

That was quite a compliment coming from Wharton – who was not a man given over to flattery. But Jerico couldn’t take full credit for the decision.

“I just took the Thunderhead’s advice.”

A few years earlier, when the Thunderhead had suggested Jerico might be happy pursuing a life at sea, it had annoyed Jerico no end. Because the Thunderhead was right. It had made a perfect assessment. Jerico had already been