I feel her pain with every atom of my being, because it’s the same pain as mine. This Emma—whoever she is—she has all my memories and thoughts and feelings. She is bearing this pain as acutely as I am.

I scan the room for my friends, for someone who can help me make sense of this. Who is this girl? What is she doing here? My eyes land on Maude, who’s carrying a wounded Archer on her back, and I snag her.

“I need the infrared light.” Maude has it in her pocket and hands it to me, no questions asked. Then she moves off, full of purpose.

I kneel beside this other Emma, whose face is masked by tears. I don’t think she even registers me next to her, so focused is she on my father. So I gently take her wrist and shine the infrared light on it.

No time stamp.

I grab her other wrist and shine the light there too.

Still no time stamp.

I look from this other Emma to Gravelle, who’s still standing by, looking almost pleased at the total destruction and loss of life around him. How ironic that he stands here, unhurt, while the rest of us suffer. How ironic that Maude’s gunshot didn’t even wound him. How unfair.

“There are no numbers,” I say to Gravelle, utterly bereft. I feel like he’s watching me, observing how I’m going to react. I’m a player in his game, one he’s orchestrated from the beginning. That’s all I am to him, and all I’ll ever be. “There’s no time stamp. No batch, no lot. Every Duplicate has one. She can’t be my Duplicate without it. And if she’s not my Duplicate, then who is she?”

I stop short, suddenly understanding. Wishing I didn’t.

You aren’t a Similar, Gravelle had said a minute ago. That’s the part you got wrong.

Feeling the sudden terror of someone who is walking alone at night and knows she’s being followed, harboring that dread, I take the infrared light and shine it on my own wrist.

It’s there, plain as day. The time stamp. On my arm.

002.34.

Batch two, lot 34. Which can only mean one thing.

I’m not a Similar. I am not who I thought I was, but not because I’m not the original Emma. I’m not even the Eden cloned from her.

I am a third version of myself. One grown on this island and implanted with all of Emma’s memories. I am not recognizable to myself. And yet, I know the time stamp doesn’t lie.

I am a Duplicate. 002.34, to be precise.

I am a number. A time stamp. A person created in a lab with no name, no parents, no family, no real life.

Nothing about my world will ever be the same again.

Reset