I watch the crowd as Galen steps back up to the platform. Finally, his soldiers have seen him for who he really is; finally, their eyes have been opened.

Galen’s projected image flickers back into being behind him as he straightens his tie and smiles.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Galen says, regaining his composure eerily quickly, “it appears today we will not be joined by the leader of the revolution. Instead, I ask you, the survivors of Earth, what should become of him?”

I wait, scanning the blank faces, anticipating the first angry cry of revolt against Happy.

“Kill the rebel!” a voice calls from the middle of the crowd.

“Kill the liar!” another joins in.

And then they’re all shouting, baying for my blood, screaming for my death.

I’m frozen with disbelief; I can’t speak, I can’t move. I watch the angry faces of a thousand soldiers as their words become a jumble of sound.

I had expected to die today, but I dared to hope that I could open some eyes before I left.

Galen raises his hands, and the hall falls silent. He beckons offstage and an executioner with a heart trigger walks by me. The crowd are now so silent that each of the tall woman’s footsteps can be heard echoing around the enormous room. She stands beside the Overseer.

“Mr. Kane,” Galen says, his voice now echoing too, in the silence. “The people have spoken. Is there anything you would like to say?”

I’m going to die, I think. I’m going to die, and it was all for nothing. They don’t care. This man’s followers don’t care. I showed them the truth and they don’t want to see it.

I look around. The faces are frozen in sneers and anticipation of my deletion.

They won’t listen, I think, but there are hundreds of thousands of survivors around the world who are listening.

“Never give up,” I say, raising my head to the camera drones. “History is not the words written on a page; history lives in hearts and minds and in the rocks and the oceans. It can’t be erased by evil. You are fighting for what is right. They are clinging to power with frayed minds and fingertips. Remember, we don’t do running away.”

Galen nods to the executioner. She hands the small tube of metal to him. Galen points it at my chest, and I hear three beeps coming from deep inside.

I smile, knowing that all across the world there are people just like Pander, like Molly, like Igby and Malachai and Pod and Sam and Blue and Kina. People who will find a way to win.

I look out over the heads of the crowd, and I try to picture Kina Campbell one more time.

“Kina, I love you,” I say.

Galen releases his grip on the trigger.

There’s a sensation of falling.