Out of the corner of my eye, I see more chaos on the shore. My friends fighting with guards—ripping, clawing—and, in most cases, gaining the upper hand. One boat has taken off already into the water, with Ollie, Pru, and Jaeger on board, and I am grateful. I take stock of everyone I love—the Similars, the DNA parents, and the originals—and count them boarding the remaining boats. My friends are prevailing, downing guards right and left. They’re jumping into the boats and escaping the island, which is what I need to see happen before I can go through with the reboot. But I scan the shore for Levi—Similar Levi—and don’t see him. I can’t move forward unless I know he’s safe. I’ll have to stay alive long enough, and stall Seymour long enough, to know for sure.

“Emma,” the Levi next to me breathes, but I don’t answer him. I close my eyes, focusing hard on Seymour, the Seymour I can see in my mind’s eye, as hard as I’ve ever focused on anything. I picture his smug face. I remember him lying to us back at school. I think of all the pain and suffering he’s caused these families, all for his own selfish gain, his misguided ideas of what “scientific advancement” really is.

And I hear his thoughts.

What’s she doing? Why is she closing her eyes like that? Little brat, just like Eden, never happy with any of what we’ve given her—

I can control you, I think to myself. I can stop you from pulling that trigger.

Stupid, meddling mind-reading clone. I’ll have no choice but to shoot her to bits. Shame, all that work destroyed for nothing—

You won’t do anything to me. You won’t shoot me. You won’t stop me. Your brain controls not only your thoughts, but everything you do. I’m controlling you now, Seymour. Set the gun down.

I open my eyes to face him. I’ve never felt more powerful in my life. I’m not just reading Seymour’s mind. I’m in charge. I’m deciding what he thinks and says and does. Seymour’s still holding the gun, but he’s not pulling the trigger. He sets it down. Levi gingerly picks it up.

You will walk to the computer, I think.

Seymour begins to shuffle his feet. He looks down at them, confused.

You will hit the three red buttons, I tell him.

He approaches the keyboard. I don’t hear a single thought in his head, because he can’t think independently. Not with me controlling him like this.

Doesn’t feel good not being in charge of your own free will, does it? Doesn’t feel good when your “creation” becomes your master.

Seymour presses the three red buttons. The F7 command appears.