Gleanings, p.30
Gleanings, page 30
* * *
There were countless Lover’s Leaps in the post-mortal world. In fact, cliffs with stunning views once labeled picture spots now had signs that read ROMANTIC PLUNGE. Because dying hand in hand with one’s beloved was the ultimate romantic act. Especially when you’d both be brought back to life in a day or two.
There was, in fact, an entire industry devoted to cliffside weddings that ended with a dramatic drop. Of course, it did change the tradition of throwing the bouquet. Now the custom was that whoever could retrieve the bouquet from the bottom of the cliff without going deadish in the process would be the recipient of the bride’s good luck.
There were even some scenic drops so popular that they had their own honeymoon revival centers filled with hearts and roses and couple’s revival rooms.
However, neither of Cochran and Marni’s deathish duets left them in such a place. Instead the ambudrones whisked them once more back to Woolwich Revival Center, as was the standing order from Scythe Boudica for any and all deaths pertaining to her accident-prone niece, because it was convenient, and close to the castle. And so, once again, Marni awoke to the ever-happy face of Nurse Lucille.
“Hello, dearie! Have a bit of a slip-and-fall, did we? Never trust a lorry, I say!”
Marni groaned. Did she really die again? It took a moment to bring back the last thing she remembered. Then she bolted up in bed, which made her head spin.
“Cochran! Where’s Cochran!”
“Mr. Stæinsby’s in the room next door, love. He regained consciousness a few hours ago. He wanted to come in to see you, but I told him he’d have to wait.”
“You could have let him in….”
“Oh, but you were such a fright, dear. Your head met with one of the lorry’s tires, and you know how that goes. Tsk, tsk, tsk. We had to do a full brain regrowth and memory download.”
Well, that explained why she remembered the fall, but not actually going deadish. The Thunderhead must not have backed up those last few seconds. A bit of a blessing, really.
“How do I look now?”
Nurse Lucille took a few moments to appraise. “Your pretty little head is still bruised and slightly lopsided, but the worst of it has already faded. You’ll be back in shape in no time. No pun intended.”
A look in a mirror corroborated the nurse’s assessment. Marni looked a bit like the oblong-headed ladies on Auntie Boo’s tapestry robe.
Marni drew a deep breath at the thought of her aunt.
“Lucille, has Scythe Boudica been by yet?”
The nurse offered up her brightest smile. “She’s in with Mr. Stæinsby!”
“What?”
“Oh yes, they’ve been chatting it up for a while now.”
Marni ripped off her monitor leads, and jumped out of bed, ignoring Nurse Lucille’s protests. Although her less-than-round head felt woozy and her just-mended legs wobbly, she managed to make her way to the adjacent room—where she saw her aunt, in full Scythe Boudica regalia, sitting beside Cochran, as if they were old friends.
“Ah, look what the cat dragged in,” said the scythe when she saw Marni in the doorway, then frowned. “Good God, Marni, you look awful! Have they given you your NASti-shake yet? Is there a timeline for full recovery?”
Marni ignored her aunt’s questions.
“Auntie Boo, what are you doing in here?”
“Your young man and I have been having a nice visit.”
Cochran smiled at Marni like a little boy too naive to know that what looked like a gentle golden retriever could in fact be a hungry medieval lion.
“You never told me your aunt was a scythe!”
“And she never told me about you,” said Auntie Boo.
Marni forced herself to step in from the threshold, committing to the troubling dynamic of the conversation. “Well… I… I just hadn’t gotten around to it, is all.”
“Marni, you should have told me you had a boyfriend. I’m positively thrilled for you!”
Marni found herself reeling. Perhaps her brain wasn’t entirely revived yet, because she thought she heard her aunt say something positive.
“You are?”
“Of course! What could possibly be more important than love?” said her aunt. “Certainly not duty or familial responsibility.”
There—that sounded more like the Boo Marni knew.
“Scythe Boudica invited me to your castle!” said Cochran with far too much enthusiasm for a man who had just been crushed by a ten-ton vehicle.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marni said.
“Nonsense,” said her aunt. “I’ve asked and he’s accepted, so it’s done.”
“I’ve never been to a scythe’s home before,” said Cochran. “And besides, I’d love to see where you live, Marni!”
“It’s settled,” said her aunt. “We’ll celebrate your joint revival back home at the castle—and if it’s any consolation, I’ll have you know I gleaned the driver of that lorry.”
“Auntie Boo! It wasn’t his fault—drivers don’t actually drive, you know that! They’re just there in case something… unexpected… happens.”
Boudica shrugged beneath her heavy tapestry. “Well, too late to quibble about that now.”
Then Nurse Lucille came in and insisted that Marni go back to bed, at least until her head had sorted itself out. Marni obliged and returned to her room, but was still troubled over the current state of affairs. Auntie Boo was clearly scheming… and Marni wasn’t sure if she was the medieval lion about to tear Cochran to shreds, or merely a unicorn-goat, prodding him and poking him until he went away.
* * *
Cochran didn’t know how to feel about any of this, but he was an optimistic person, so he decided to see the positive side. At first he was terrified when a scythe came to his revival room—but once she introduced herself as Marni’s aunt, they got along swimmingly. As a professional attendee, Cochran’s skill at sounding interested in the things she had to say made them an excellent conversational fit. Scythe Boudica certainly was a master of the mundane. Discussions of the weather, and her distaste that the Thunderhead didn’t keep it sunny everywhere all the time. A veritable oration on the lack of hygiene among Britannia’s youth. It was actually refreshing; he always thought scythes did nothing but discuss lofty and high-minded subjects.
Scythe Boudica was interested in knowing how he came to know Marni. Cochran was open and forthright about all of it, thinking there was no reason not to be.
* * *
Severndroog was an old castle, but not a castle of olde. That is to say it did not harken back to the Dark Ages, but rather to the dim ages of industrial England, when rich businessmen built edifices to their egos. Severndroog Castle had never warded off invaders, or stood stalwart against rampaging peasants. It was just there to look nice.
It was only marginally a castle. More like an odd triangular stone tower with turrets designed not for cannons, but for people to admire the view. Its interior wasn’t very large. Just three floors connected by a single spiral staircase.
“Why should I lay claim to Buckingham like Scythe Cromwell, or Windsor like Scythe Godiva?” Boudica would exclaim. “Who needs all that space?” But, in truth, all the good castles were already taken.
* * *
Once Cochran and Marni were released from the revival center, Scythe Boudica had her private car drive them to the gate of her property, but no farther.
“It’s a nice enough day for a walk,” the scythe proclaimed, and although it was uphill, and Cochran and Marni were still a bit fatigued from revival, they endured it. Once a public park, the small urban forest was now Scythe Boudica’s personal pastoral estate, and Severndroog Castle was smack in the middle.
What struck Cochran first was the wildlife.
“I’ve never seen so many rabbits,” he exclaimed as they walked the gravel path to the castle.
“I breed them,” Scythe Boudica told him. “Or rather, I let them take care of that themselves without any help or hindrance from me.”
“Elsewhere it would be considered an infestation,” Marni said, “and the Thunderhead would regulate their fertility. But not on scythe property.”
Cochran found the castle to be modest—if anything called a castle could also be called modest. Yes, the doors were huge and ornate, and the ceilings high, but the odd triangular living area left quite a lot of unusable space.
A housekeeper had prepared afternoon tea for them, complete with things like freshly baked scones and little cucumber sandwiches with their crusts surgically removed.
“The old ways are the best ways,” Scythe Boudica said as she personally poured everyone’s tea. “Comfort in the chaos.”
Marni didn’t seem enthused by any of this. Cochran figured this all must have been familiar daily drudgery for her, and left it at that.
But Cochran wasn’t privy to the things Marni knew. Such as the truth behind her aunt’s ritualistic afternoon teas. Scythe Boudica would invite various people she came across in her daily strolls through the city. They’d sit down to tea. If she liked you, you would be allowed to leave, with full expectation that you’d write a kind note of thanks to Scythe Boudica for her hospitality. And if she didn’t like you, you were gleaned.
“Tell me, Mr. Stæinsby, what are your intentions with my niece?” she asked, without the least bit of subtlety.
“Auntie Boo! Please don’t put him on the spot.”
But Cochran took it in stride. He sipped some tea, then put his cup down, and gently took Marni’s hand. “My intentions are the most honorable,” he told her, and turned a warm smile to Marni. “We care for each other and are looking forward to seeing where this journey might take us.”
Scythe Boudica offered a simple, maybe even sincere smile, and glanced at Marni. “I like him,” she said, and gave Marni a little wink.
Marni released a breath. Perhaps it was the warmth of the tea, or the easing of her stress, or the fact that the revival center always overhydrated her, but Marni felt a sudden and urgent need to relieve herself.
“I have to use the loo,” she told them. “Save a scone for me.” And she hurried away.
Once Marni was gone, the scythe returned her attention to Cochran. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen my niece so anxious and so happy. A wonder that both emotions can coexist in a single person.”
“I feel much the same,” Cochran told her. “Love will do that, I suppose.”
“Ah yes, love. That magic fiction with the power to become true.”
Cochran finished his tea. “Sometimes it’s true from the outset.”
The scythe had no response to that. Instead, she stood. “Would you like me to give you the grand tour?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Marni?”
“She’ll be along,” the scythe said, leading the way to the spiral staircase in the corner. “Has Marni told you about the view from the north turret? You can see all of London from up there!”
* * *
Marni silently scolded herself for thinking the worst of her aunt. Just because she had a penchant for self-serving behavior didn’t mean she was always plotting something unpleasant. And as Auntie Boo always reminded Marni, she had been kindhearted enough to give Marni a home all these years—not just a home but a castle—and had asked little more in return than Marni’s company. Perhaps she should give her aunt the benefit of the doubt.
“I always want the best for you,” Auntie Boo would often say. “Though the world rarely offers its best.”
Marni returned to the main salon, hoping that they had indeed saved her a scone—only to find that, while the scone was there, her aunt and Cochran were not.
* * *
The view from the north turret did not disappoint.
“You were right, Your Honor,” said Cochran as he gazed out to the Thames and beyond. “It’s breathtaking!” The whole city of London was before him, and although he’d seen city vistas before, never had it been so comprehensive.
“I come up here several times a week,” the scythe told him, which was in fact true. “I find it puts things in perspective.” Which, while also true, was not her primary reason.
They took a few quiet moments to appreciate the view. “You know, I never leave London,” Scythe Boudica confided. “As a scythe, I can go wherever I please. Not just in Britannia, but anywhere in the world. But I choose to do all my living and all my gleaning right here in this, the noblest of cities.”
“If you don’t travel, then why the heliport?” Cochran asked.
Her brow furrowed a bit in confusion, until he pointed to the concrete circle in a clearing at the bottom of the hill, painted with a series of concentric circles.
“Ah, yes,” said Scythe Boudica. “You’re right; it is a landing spot, of sorts.”
“For visiting scythes, then?”
“If you say so.”
She had been standing back, but now came closer to him, softening her voice. “My Marni is a sensitive soul, Mr. Stæinsby. Novelty unsettles her. She prefers life to be consistent, and familiar. So you can see why I’d be concerned about your ‘relationship’ with her. Changes to her routine confound and flummox my Marni.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Your Honor… but I think that describes you, not Marni.”
Scythe Boudica pursed her lips, and swayed a bit, almost to the point of stumbling. Cochran grabbed her elbow to steady her.
“Are you all right, Your Honor?”
“Just a bit dizzy,” she said, “As much as I enjoy the view, I do get a bit of vertigo now and then.” She stepped back, leaving Cochran alone in the turret. “But by all means, stay and enjoy the view. I promise the longer you linger, the clearer your perspective will be.”
Then she reached into a secret niche in the bricks, and grasped a lever that was hidden from view.
* * *
Marnie was out of breath by the time she reached the first landing. The spiral staircase was steep, and there were two more floors until she would reach the roof. Usually she could bound up the stairs without any trouble, but revival had left her weak. She feared she might lose consciousness if she pushed herself too hard, and then what? She would lose much more than consciousness if she didn’t get to the roof in time. So she ignored her exhaustion and all the complaints of her rubbery legs and weary lungs, until finally she burst out onto the roof. Cochran was there standing in the circular space of the north turret, and her aunt already had her arm in the hidden niche.
“No!” screamed Marni, which got both of their attentions. She lunged at her aunt, grabbing her wrist so she couldn’t pull the lever. “Don’t you dare!” Marni growled. She had never used such a tone with her aunt. Never. Boudica took it like a slap to the face.
“Unhand me!” demanded the scythe. “This is not your concern!”
That actually made Marni laugh. “Not my concern? It’s the only thing that concerns me in this bloody castle!”
Her aunt gasped. “How dare you use such language with me? Such disrespect! Such impertinence!”
It only made Marni grip her wrist even tighter—so tightly she thought she might break it.
Through all of this Cochran watched from the turret, not sure if it was his place to interfere. But when it seemed that it might actually come to blows, he spoke up.
“Marni, it’s all right, really. Your aunt was just showing me the view.”
“That’s one way of putting it!” Marni said. “That’s a spring-loaded platform you’re standing on, Cochran. It’s how she gleans—she catapults people across the property, and they splat on that concrete target.”
“Not true!” insisted her aunt. “They only hit the target when the wind is right.”
This new information certainly did give Cochran clearer perspective. He quickly stepped off the platform.
Finally Scythe Boudica pulled free from Marni, and turned on her, furious at having been foiled. “This boy is not what you need, Marni! I know what’s best for you. I always have! Let me glean him so we can get back to our lives!”
Marni had never been a violent girl, but sometimes anger takes hold before one’s nanites have time to do anything about it.
She reached out with both hands and pushed her aunt. Boudica stumbled backward, tripped on the hem of her robe, and landed squarely in the middle of the turret.
She must have seen it in Marni’s eyes, because the scythe’s entire demeanor changed. She was afraid. More than afraid, she was terrified.
“You wouldn’t!”
But to Marni, those words sounded like a dare. She reached for the lever, knowing that if she paused for thought her good sense would kick in, and good sense was the last thing she wanted right now.
Cochran tried to intervene.
“Marni, don’t!”
But nothing could stop her now. Marni funneled years of pent-up frustration down the length of her arm. Then she pulled the lever so hard, the handle broke off in her grip.
With an explosive grinding of gears, Scythe Boudica was launched skyward in a perfect demonstration of what scientists called “gravity’s rainbow.” The scythe, wailing all the way, arced across the sky, reaching a peak hundreds of feet from the ground, before plunging back to earth.
And today, it was a perfect bull’s-eye.
* * *
The Thunderhead and the rabbits.
They were in a similar boat. Neither the rabbits nor the almost-all-powerful AI had any control over what happened on the grounds of Severndroog Castle. All they could do was watch. The Thunderhead, while having no cameras on scythe-occupied land, had trained several cameras on nearby streets to look at the property, so it could, at least partially, be aware of what went on there. And the rabbits? They were just there, in the woods, seeing people fall from the sky.
It had become so commonplace that the bunnies barely flinched when it happened. In fact, it had become for them a sort of Pavlovian clock—because on normal days, Scythe Boudica would come out of the castle and feed them the kitchen’s leftover greens after she had gleaned, as to take her mind off of what she had just done, distracting herself while the cleanup crew did away with the mess. And so, on this day, when the food signal came dropping from the sky, the rabbits all hopped their way to the castle, waiting for the doors to open and for a bounty to be bestowed on them.
There were countless Lover’s Leaps in the post-mortal world. In fact, cliffs with stunning views once labeled picture spots now had signs that read ROMANTIC PLUNGE. Because dying hand in hand with one’s beloved was the ultimate romantic act. Especially when you’d both be brought back to life in a day or two.
There was, in fact, an entire industry devoted to cliffside weddings that ended with a dramatic drop. Of course, it did change the tradition of throwing the bouquet. Now the custom was that whoever could retrieve the bouquet from the bottom of the cliff without going deadish in the process would be the recipient of the bride’s good luck.
There were even some scenic drops so popular that they had their own honeymoon revival centers filled with hearts and roses and couple’s revival rooms.
However, neither of Cochran and Marni’s deathish duets left them in such a place. Instead the ambudrones whisked them once more back to Woolwich Revival Center, as was the standing order from Scythe Boudica for any and all deaths pertaining to her accident-prone niece, because it was convenient, and close to the castle. And so, once again, Marni awoke to the ever-happy face of Nurse Lucille.
“Hello, dearie! Have a bit of a slip-and-fall, did we? Never trust a lorry, I say!”
Marni groaned. Did she really die again? It took a moment to bring back the last thing she remembered. Then she bolted up in bed, which made her head spin.
“Cochran! Where’s Cochran!”
“Mr. Stæinsby’s in the room next door, love. He regained consciousness a few hours ago. He wanted to come in to see you, but I told him he’d have to wait.”
“You could have let him in….”
“Oh, but you were such a fright, dear. Your head met with one of the lorry’s tires, and you know how that goes. Tsk, tsk, tsk. We had to do a full brain regrowth and memory download.”
Well, that explained why she remembered the fall, but not actually going deadish. The Thunderhead must not have backed up those last few seconds. A bit of a blessing, really.
“How do I look now?”
Nurse Lucille took a few moments to appraise. “Your pretty little head is still bruised and slightly lopsided, but the worst of it has already faded. You’ll be back in shape in no time. No pun intended.”
A look in a mirror corroborated the nurse’s assessment. Marni looked a bit like the oblong-headed ladies on Auntie Boo’s tapestry robe.
Marni drew a deep breath at the thought of her aunt.
“Lucille, has Scythe Boudica been by yet?”
The nurse offered up her brightest smile. “She’s in with Mr. Stæinsby!”
“What?”
“Oh yes, they’ve been chatting it up for a while now.”
Marni ripped off her monitor leads, and jumped out of bed, ignoring Nurse Lucille’s protests. Although her less-than-round head felt woozy and her just-mended legs wobbly, she managed to make her way to the adjacent room—where she saw her aunt, in full Scythe Boudica regalia, sitting beside Cochran, as if they were old friends.
“Ah, look what the cat dragged in,” said the scythe when she saw Marni in the doorway, then frowned. “Good God, Marni, you look awful! Have they given you your NASti-shake yet? Is there a timeline for full recovery?”
Marni ignored her aunt’s questions.
“Auntie Boo, what are you doing in here?”
“Your young man and I have been having a nice visit.”
Cochran smiled at Marni like a little boy too naive to know that what looked like a gentle golden retriever could in fact be a hungry medieval lion.
“You never told me your aunt was a scythe!”
“And she never told me about you,” said Auntie Boo.
Marni forced herself to step in from the threshold, committing to the troubling dynamic of the conversation. “Well… I… I just hadn’t gotten around to it, is all.”
“Marni, you should have told me you had a boyfriend. I’m positively thrilled for you!”
Marni found herself reeling. Perhaps her brain wasn’t entirely revived yet, because she thought she heard her aunt say something positive.
“You are?”
“Of course! What could possibly be more important than love?” said her aunt. “Certainly not duty or familial responsibility.”
There—that sounded more like the Boo Marni knew.
“Scythe Boudica invited me to your castle!” said Cochran with far too much enthusiasm for a man who had just been crushed by a ten-ton vehicle.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Marni said.
“Nonsense,” said her aunt. “I’ve asked and he’s accepted, so it’s done.”
“I’ve never been to a scythe’s home before,” said Cochran. “And besides, I’d love to see where you live, Marni!”
“It’s settled,” said her aunt. “We’ll celebrate your joint revival back home at the castle—and if it’s any consolation, I’ll have you know I gleaned the driver of that lorry.”
“Auntie Boo! It wasn’t his fault—drivers don’t actually drive, you know that! They’re just there in case something… unexpected… happens.”
Boudica shrugged beneath her heavy tapestry. “Well, too late to quibble about that now.”
Then Nurse Lucille came in and insisted that Marni go back to bed, at least until her head had sorted itself out. Marni obliged and returned to her room, but was still troubled over the current state of affairs. Auntie Boo was clearly scheming… and Marni wasn’t sure if she was the medieval lion about to tear Cochran to shreds, or merely a unicorn-goat, prodding him and poking him until he went away.
* * *
Cochran didn’t know how to feel about any of this, but he was an optimistic person, so he decided to see the positive side. At first he was terrified when a scythe came to his revival room—but once she introduced herself as Marni’s aunt, they got along swimmingly. As a professional attendee, Cochran’s skill at sounding interested in the things she had to say made them an excellent conversational fit. Scythe Boudica certainly was a master of the mundane. Discussions of the weather, and her distaste that the Thunderhead didn’t keep it sunny everywhere all the time. A veritable oration on the lack of hygiene among Britannia’s youth. It was actually refreshing; he always thought scythes did nothing but discuss lofty and high-minded subjects.
Scythe Boudica was interested in knowing how he came to know Marni. Cochran was open and forthright about all of it, thinking there was no reason not to be.
* * *
Severndroog was an old castle, but not a castle of olde. That is to say it did not harken back to the Dark Ages, but rather to the dim ages of industrial England, when rich businessmen built edifices to their egos. Severndroog Castle had never warded off invaders, or stood stalwart against rampaging peasants. It was just there to look nice.
It was only marginally a castle. More like an odd triangular stone tower with turrets designed not for cannons, but for people to admire the view. Its interior wasn’t very large. Just three floors connected by a single spiral staircase.
“Why should I lay claim to Buckingham like Scythe Cromwell, or Windsor like Scythe Godiva?” Boudica would exclaim. “Who needs all that space?” But, in truth, all the good castles were already taken.
* * *
Once Cochran and Marni were released from the revival center, Scythe Boudica had her private car drive them to the gate of her property, but no farther.
“It’s a nice enough day for a walk,” the scythe proclaimed, and although it was uphill, and Cochran and Marni were still a bit fatigued from revival, they endured it. Once a public park, the small urban forest was now Scythe Boudica’s personal pastoral estate, and Severndroog Castle was smack in the middle.
What struck Cochran first was the wildlife.
“I’ve never seen so many rabbits,” he exclaimed as they walked the gravel path to the castle.
“I breed them,” Scythe Boudica told him. “Or rather, I let them take care of that themselves without any help or hindrance from me.”
“Elsewhere it would be considered an infestation,” Marni said, “and the Thunderhead would regulate their fertility. But not on scythe property.”
Cochran found the castle to be modest—if anything called a castle could also be called modest. Yes, the doors were huge and ornate, and the ceilings high, but the odd triangular living area left quite a lot of unusable space.
A housekeeper had prepared afternoon tea for them, complete with things like freshly baked scones and little cucumber sandwiches with their crusts surgically removed.
“The old ways are the best ways,” Scythe Boudica said as she personally poured everyone’s tea. “Comfort in the chaos.”
Marni didn’t seem enthused by any of this. Cochran figured this all must have been familiar daily drudgery for her, and left it at that.
But Cochran wasn’t privy to the things Marni knew. Such as the truth behind her aunt’s ritualistic afternoon teas. Scythe Boudica would invite various people she came across in her daily strolls through the city. They’d sit down to tea. If she liked you, you would be allowed to leave, with full expectation that you’d write a kind note of thanks to Scythe Boudica for her hospitality. And if she didn’t like you, you were gleaned.
“Tell me, Mr. Stæinsby, what are your intentions with my niece?” she asked, without the least bit of subtlety.
“Auntie Boo! Please don’t put him on the spot.”
But Cochran took it in stride. He sipped some tea, then put his cup down, and gently took Marni’s hand. “My intentions are the most honorable,” he told her, and turned a warm smile to Marni. “We care for each other and are looking forward to seeing where this journey might take us.”
Scythe Boudica offered a simple, maybe even sincere smile, and glanced at Marni. “I like him,” she said, and gave Marni a little wink.
Marni released a breath. Perhaps it was the warmth of the tea, or the easing of her stress, or the fact that the revival center always overhydrated her, but Marni felt a sudden and urgent need to relieve herself.
“I have to use the loo,” she told them. “Save a scone for me.” And she hurried away.
Once Marni was gone, the scythe returned her attention to Cochran. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen my niece so anxious and so happy. A wonder that both emotions can coexist in a single person.”
“I feel much the same,” Cochran told her. “Love will do that, I suppose.”
“Ah yes, love. That magic fiction with the power to become true.”
Cochran finished his tea. “Sometimes it’s true from the outset.”
The scythe had no response to that. Instead, she stood. “Would you like me to give you the grand tour?”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Marni?”
“She’ll be along,” the scythe said, leading the way to the spiral staircase in the corner. “Has Marni told you about the view from the north turret? You can see all of London from up there!”
* * *
Marni silently scolded herself for thinking the worst of her aunt. Just because she had a penchant for self-serving behavior didn’t mean she was always plotting something unpleasant. And as Auntie Boo always reminded Marni, she had been kindhearted enough to give Marni a home all these years—not just a home but a castle—and had asked little more in return than Marni’s company. Perhaps she should give her aunt the benefit of the doubt.
“I always want the best for you,” Auntie Boo would often say. “Though the world rarely offers its best.”
Marni returned to the main salon, hoping that they had indeed saved her a scone—only to find that, while the scone was there, her aunt and Cochran were not.
* * *
The view from the north turret did not disappoint.
“You were right, Your Honor,” said Cochran as he gazed out to the Thames and beyond. “It’s breathtaking!” The whole city of London was before him, and although he’d seen city vistas before, never had it been so comprehensive.
“I come up here several times a week,” the scythe told him, which was in fact true. “I find it puts things in perspective.” Which, while also true, was not her primary reason.
They took a few quiet moments to appreciate the view. “You know, I never leave London,” Scythe Boudica confided. “As a scythe, I can go wherever I please. Not just in Britannia, but anywhere in the world. But I choose to do all my living and all my gleaning right here in this, the noblest of cities.”
“If you don’t travel, then why the heliport?” Cochran asked.
Her brow furrowed a bit in confusion, until he pointed to the concrete circle in a clearing at the bottom of the hill, painted with a series of concentric circles.
“Ah, yes,” said Scythe Boudica. “You’re right; it is a landing spot, of sorts.”
“For visiting scythes, then?”
“If you say so.”
She had been standing back, but now came closer to him, softening her voice. “My Marni is a sensitive soul, Mr. Stæinsby. Novelty unsettles her. She prefers life to be consistent, and familiar. So you can see why I’d be concerned about your ‘relationship’ with her. Changes to her routine confound and flummox my Marni.”
“Forgive me for saying so, Your Honor… but I think that describes you, not Marni.”
Scythe Boudica pursed her lips, and swayed a bit, almost to the point of stumbling. Cochran grabbed her elbow to steady her.
“Are you all right, Your Honor?”
“Just a bit dizzy,” she said, “As much as I enjoy the view, I do get a bit of vertigo now and then.” She stepped back, leaving Cochran alone in the turret. “But by all means, stay and enjoy the view. I promise the longer you linger, the clearer your perspective will be.”
Then she reached into a secret niche in the bricks, and grasped a lever that was hidden from view.
* * *
Marnie was out of breath by the time she reached the first landing. The spiral staircase was steep, and there were two more floors until she would reach the roof. Usually she could bound up the stairs without any trouble, but revival had left her weak. She feared she might lose consciousness if she pushed herself too hard, and then what? She would lose much more than consciousness if she didn’t get to the roof in time. So she ignored her exhaustion and all the complaints of her rubbery legs and weary lungs, until finally she burst out onto the roof. Cochran was there standing in the circular space of the north turret, and her aunt already had her arm in the hidden niche.
“No!” screamed Marni, which got both of their attentions. She lunged at her aunt, grabbing her wrist so she couldn’t pull the lever. “Don’t you dare!” Marni growled. She had never used such a tone with her aunt. Never. Boudica took it like a slap to the face.
“Unhand me!” demanded the scythe. “This is not your concern!”
That actually made Marni laugh. “Not my concern? It’s the only thing that concerns me in this bloody castle!”
Her aunt gasped. “How dare you use such language with me? Such disrespect! Such impertinence!”
It only made Marni grip her wrist even tighter—so tightly she thought she might break it.
Through all of this Cochran watched from the turret, not sure if it was his place to interfere. But when it seemed that it might actually come to blows, he spoke up.
“Marni, it’s all right, really. Your aunt was just showing me the view.”
“That’s one way of putting it!” Marni said. “That’s a spring-loaded platform you’re standing on, Cochran. It’s how she gleans—she catapults people across the property, and they splat on that concrete target.”
“Not true!” insisted her aunt. “They only hit the target when the wind is right.”
This new information certainly did give Cochran clearer perspective. He quickly stepped off the platform.
Finally Scythe Boudica pulled free from Marni, and turned on her, furious at having been foiled. “This boy is not what you need, Marni! I know what’s best for you. I always have! Let me glean him so we can get back to our lives!”
Marni had never been a violent girl, but sometimes anger takes hold before one’s nanites have time to do anything about it.
She reached out with both hands and pushed her aunt. Boudica stumbled backward, tripped on the hem of her robe, and landed squarely in the middle of the turret.
She must have seen it in Marni’s eyes, because the scythe’s entire demeanor changed. She was afraid. More than afraid, she was terrified.
“You wouldn’t!”
But to Marni, those words sounded like a dare. She reached for the lever, knowing that if she paused for thought her good sense would kick in, and good sense was the last thing she wanted right now.
Cochran tried to intervene.
“Marni, don’t!”
But nothing could stop her now. Marni funneled years of pent-up frustration down the length of her arm. Then she pulled the lever so hard, the handle broke off in her grip.
With an explosive grinding of gears, Scythe Boudica was launched skyward in a perfect demonstration of what scientists called “gravity’s rainbow.” The scythe, wailing all the way, arced across the sky, reaching a peak hundreds of feet from the ground, before plunging back to earth.
And today, it was a perfect bull’s-eye.
* * *
The Thunderhead and the rabbits.
They were in a similar boat. Neither the rabbits nor the almost-all-powerful AI had any control over what happened on the grounds of Severndroog Castle. All they could do was watch. The Thunderhead, while having no cameras on scythe-occupied land, had trained several cameras on nearby streets to look at the property, so it could, at least partially, be aware of what went on there. And the rabbits? They were just there, in the woods, seeing people fall from the sky.
It had become so commonplace that the bunnies barely flinched when it happened. In fact, it had become for them a sort of Pavlovian clock—because on normal days, Scythe Boudica would come out of the castle and feed them the kitchen’s leftover greens after she had gleaned, as to take her mind off of what she had just done, distracting herself while the cleanup crew did away with the mess. And so, on this day, when the food signal came dropping from the sky, the rabbits all hopped their way to the castle, waiting for the doors to open and for a bounty to be bestowed on them.
