There’s a sprawling ranch in west Texas.
The money to build it came from oil that had long since dried up, but the money remained and multiplied. Now there’s a whole compound, an oasis as green as a golf course in the middle of the flat, wild plains.

I’d just like to break in here and say that this is why that whole area is turning into desert. Water management is important.

This is where Harlan Dunfee grew to the age of sixteen, finding trouble along the way. He was arrested for disorderly behavior twice in Odessa, but his father, a big-shot admiral, got him off both times. The third time, his parents came up with a different solution.
Today is Harlan Dunfee’s twenty-sixth birthday. He’s having a party. Of sorts.

So, let’s address the great question. How could the author’s precious self-insert be evil?

There are hundreds of guests at Harlan’s party. One of them is a boy by the name of Zachary, though his friends know him as Emby.

They’re not his friends.

He’s been living here at the ranch for some time now, waiting for this day. He has Harlan’s right lung.
Today, he gives it back to Harlan.

Answer: Somehow, he’s not evil! Because this is really, really obviously some sort of intentionally misleading phrasing.

MEANWHILE in a non-green section of desert, Hayden is uncrating the new batch of kids. They gather to be addressed by the guy in charge.

It’s then that the young Unwind realizes this is not a man but just another kid, one not much older than himself. Perhaps it’s the scars on his face that make him look older— or maybe it’s just the way he carries himself.

Yep, Connor-sue inherits. Because he did such a great job when he was first given any sort of power, so obviously giving him the rest will go great.

Meanwhile, the admiral’s been hanging out at his water table destroying ranch, being cared for by his wife, who is apparently no longer ex-, because women are healers.

What has kept him alive more than anything else is the prospect of Harlan’s big party. You could say that those terrifying stories about “Humphrey Dunfee” are true. At last, all his parts have been found, all the recipients have been gathered. But there will be no surgeries here—in spite of the rumors, rebuilding Harlan piece by piece was never the plan.

So they could have just put out a flyer saying they wanted to have a big party with all the people who got his parts. But that wouldn’t have been dumb enough.

Each wears a name tag, but there are no names on those tags. Today, names are unimportant.
RIGHT HAND reads the sticker on one young man’s lapel.

I guess this is the ultimate conclusion of all that nonsense about parts being the same as people.

The Admiral looks it over until he finds a sear between the thumb and forefinger. “I took Harlan fishing when he was nine. He got that sear trying to gut a trout.”
And then there’s a voice from behind him—another man, a little bit older than the first.
“I remember!” he says. The Admiral smiles. Perhaps the memories are spread out, but they’re here—every one of them.

So he actually collected all the people who got brain spackle.

He catches that boy who insists on calling himself Emby

No, book. Everyone else insisted on that.

Poor Zack was feeling weird due to this being crazy, but admiral guy says “You should be over with the others.” because he is creepy.

Meanwhile, Connor’s giving a pep speech including the fact that oops, the government knows.

They let us stay here because they don’t see us as a threat.”
And then Connor smiles.
“Well, we’re going to change that.”

So blowing yourself up = evil but jeopardizing the lives of hundreds of kids = good.

Connor then looks at all their faces because he learned this is a thing people like you do to.

Some of the poor fools start chanting about the blown up harvest camp, and Connor explains that no, that is wrong because explosives are evil. They need to peaceful the fuck up, because the country hates killing peaceful kids, except for tithes, which they love killing, and also all the kids getting killed at state homes for not being interesting enough.

We’ll infiltrate harvest camps and unite Unwinds across the country.

They stay there for like a month, Connor. You need to actually blow up the fences if you want to save people.

We’ll free kids from buses

Okay, at least that’s helpful, but bear in mind the way you freed kids from buses involved a massive traffic accident and loss of innocent human life.

“I don’t know what happens to our consciousness when we’re unwound,” says Connor. “I don’t even know when that consciousness starts. But I do know this.” He pauses to make sure all of them are listening. “We have a right to our lives!”
The kids go wild.
“We have a right to choose what happens to our bodies!”
The cheers reach fever pitch.

“But if any of you stupid bitches get pregnant you’d damn well better believe you’re carrying it to term!”

Meanwhile on waterwaste ranch, all the people are chatting about their magic organ memories.

A woman talks about a movie she never saw, with a man who remembers the friends he never saw it with.

Yeah. And then all at once they start talking about this one wall the kid fell off and how it was when he was six and he was chased by a bull because magic organ memories.

And then we get the most fucking stupid capstone for this horrible book:

He looks at the crowd and says weakly, “H-Harlan?”
Every eye in the garden turns toward him. A man raises his hand to his throat, touching it gently, and says in a voice that is most definitely Harlan Dunfee’s, just a bit older, “Dad?”

Yes, your throat governs auditory recognition.

Oh yeah there’s still a little bit about how Risa’s playing piano in the scrapyard and we get another weird return to the womb thing:

It is a womb of redemption for every Unwind

Really, this guy has issues.

So Connor leans back and thinks about how yay, hope. It’s ironic because this book has thoroughly killed that for me.