Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1)

by Neal Shusterman

There are times I long for a relationship with the Thunderhead. I suppose we always want what we can’t have. Others can call on the Thunderhead for advice, ask it to resolve disputes. Some rely on it as a confidant, for it’s known to have a compassionate, impartial ear, and never gossips. The Thunderhead is the world’s best listener. But not for scythes. For us, the Thunderhead is eternally silent. We have full access to its wealth of knowledge, of course. The Scythedom uses the Thunderhead for countless tasks—but to us, it’s simply a database. A tool, nothing more. As an entity—as a mind—the Thunderhead does not exist for us. And yet it does, and we know it. Estrangement from the collective consciousness of humanity’s wisdom is just one more thing that sets scythes apart from others. The Thunderhead must see us. It must be aware of the Scythedom’s petty bickering, and growing corruption, even though it has pledged noninterference. Does it despise us scythes, but abides us because it has to? Or does it simply choose not to think of us at all? And which is worse—to be despised, or to be ignored? —From the gleaning journal of H.S. Curie