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People used to die naturally. Old age used to be a terminal affliction, not a temporary state. There were invisible killers called “diseases” that broke the body down. Aging couldn’t be reversed, and there were accidents from which there was no return. Planes fell from the sky. Cars actually crashed. There was pain, misery, despair. It’s hard for most of us to imagine a world so unsafe, with dangers lurking in every unseen, unplanned corner. All of that is behind us now, and yet a simple truth remains: People have to die.
2042. It’s a year that every schoolchild knows. It was the year when computational power became infinite—or so close to infinite that it could no longer be measured. It was the year we knew… everything. “The cloud” evolved into “the Thunderhead,” and now all there is to know about everything resides in the near-infinite memory of the Thunderhead for anyone who wants to access it.
2042 is the year we conquered death, and also the year we stopped counting. Sure, we still numbered years for a few more decades, but at the moment of immortality, passing time ceased to matter.
The Thunderhead quite literally knew everything. When and where to build roads; how to eliminate waste in food distribution and thus end hunger; how to protect the environment from the ever-growing human population. It created jobs, it clothed the poor, and it established the World Code. Now, for the first time in history, law was no longer the shadow of justice, it was justice. The Thunderhead gave us a perfect world. The utopia that our ancestors could only dream of is our reality. There was only one thing the Thunderhead was not given authority over. The Scythedom.
The Scythe Commandments 1) Thou shalt kill. 2) Thou shalt kill with no bias, bigotry, or malice aforethought. 3) Thou shalt grant an annum of immunity to the beloved of those who accept your coming, and to anyone else you deem worthy. 4) Thou shalt kill the beloved of those who resist. 5) Thou shalt serve humanity for the full span of thy days, and thy family shall have immunity as recompense for as long as you live. 6) Thou shalt lead an exemplary life in word and deed, and keep a journal of each and every day. 7) Thou shalt kill no scythe beyond thyself. 8) Thou shalt claim no earthly
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9) Thou shalt have neither spouse nor spawn. 10) Thou shalt be beholden to no laws beyond these.
I am apprenticed to a monster. Scythe Faraday was right: Someone who enjoys killing should never be a scythe. It goes against everything the founders wanted. If this is what the Scythedom is turning into, someone has to stop it. But it can’t be me. Because I think I’m becoming a monster, too.
“It’s not. It never was. Goddard isn’t a scythe. He may have the ring, he may have license to glean, but he’s not a scythe. He’s a killer, and he has to be stopped. We can find a way to stop him, both of us!” Volta shook his head and looked at the blood pooling in his palms. “It’s over,” he said again.
He thought he could not be more impressed by her. She had just proved him wrong. “I love you,” he said. “Same here,” she responded. “Now get lost.”
As the High Blade tried to regain order, Scythe Anastasia looked to her hand, and did something that was very strange for a scythe to do. She kissed her own ring, getting just the slightest bit of Rowan’s blood on her lips. Enough for her to remember the moment forever.
