Scythe

Sacrifice is a theme that is central to Scythe’s premise and closely related to the novel’s exploration of mortality. Scythes only exist because sacrifice is necessary: Some people must die in order to maintain a better world for those left behind, as immortal humanity would otherwise quickly overpopulate the planet. Sacrifice in the form of death is therefore embedded in the natural order of things.

As scythes are most personally acquainted with death, it is symbolically appropriate that they also tend to be acquainted with other forms of sacrifice. The scythes—at least, all outside of Goddard, Chomsky, and Rand—sacrifice their normal lives in order to represent what many consider the last true danger or even evil: death. They do not marry, their opportunities for friendship are limited to other scythes, and they confront remorse every day. Their struggles are made clear in both the gleaning journals and in Rowan’s and Citra’s character arcs, as the two must sacrifice their growing romantic feelings in order to maintain Faraday’s approval and avoid punishment. During their final tests, they are ordered to sacrifice members of their own families. By so doing, they sacrifice some of their humanity. Rowan goes even further down this path when he uses the very methods he despises to kill Goddard and other corrupt or cruel scythes.

The theme of sacrifice has a complex relationship with suicide, which features prominently in the novel. A scythe could conceivably die by suicide for the same reason they would glean anyone else—to control the population. Doing so would be an act of sacrifice, as they would effectively be taking the place of another person. Rowan considers just this when faced with the prospect of competing against Citra: “[M]aybe he would glean himself as his first and only act. Then he’d never be faced with having to glean Citra” (299). However, the traumatic reality of being a scythe means that a scythe may also die by suicide to escape the burden of their role. Curie acknowledges that she has considered doing as much and believes that the provision allowing scythes to glean themselves is “wise.” Nevertheless, she opts not to self-glean out of concern that the scythes that replaced her would be less humane. Although Scythe often associates sacrifice with death, it also implies that there are situations when living is the greater sacrifice.

Although their work makes them look outwardly cruel, Faraday and Curie consistently stress the importance of compassion. Scythes can choose how to glean and how to interact with the families afterward. Faraday does his best to put those he gleans at ease before he performs his duties. Curie gleans suddenly, before a subject knows what is happening. Later, she invites the grieving families to Falling Water for dinner in order to celebrate the life of the person she took. Though Faraday and Curie glean in different ways, in both cases the point is not merely to show respect and empathy for those they interact with but also to ensure that they themselves do not become hardened to killing. As Faraday suggests when he discovers Citra crying, the pain she feels when confronted with gleaning is precisely what will make her a good scythe.

In fact, the novel suggests that compassion is necessary not merely for scythes but for all people. Without it, people are not really human, as Faraday explains: “My greatest wish for humanity is not for peace or comfort or joy. It is that we all still die a little inside when we witness the death of another. For only the pain of empathy will keep us human” (388). The novel frames the dulling of this capacity as yet another byproduct of the development of immortality, as awareness of one’s vulnerability to suffering and death once encouraged empathy.

The novel also evidences the value of compassion when Goddard shows what its absence looks like. A scythe without compassion is a mere killer. Goddard is not interested in empathy and cannot be because he sees people as inferior to scythes; therefore, their perspectives are irrelevant to him. More than that, Goddard argues that scythes should actually take pleasure in violence: “I see a day when new scythes will be chosen […] because they enjoy the taking of life” (162). In his way, Goddard recognizes that proximity to death gives life purpose, as Volta explains to Rowan: “Without the threat of suffering, we can’t experience true joy” (244). However, rather than turn this recognition toward empathy, Goddard and his acolytes revel in their own vitality as they mercilessly slaughter others.