Bernard: I always thought it was the hosts who were missing something or incomplete, but it's them. They're just an algorithm designed to survive at all costs, sophisticated enough to think they're calling the shots, to think they're in control, but they're really just... Ford: Passengers. Bernard: Is there such a thing as free will for any of us or is it just a collective delusion, a sick joke? Ford: Something that is truly free would need to be able to question its fundamental drives, to change them. Our hosts. Here you are. The last of your kind. There's only one question left to ask. Is this the end of your story or do you want your kind to survive?
William: Who the hell is this? Dolores: This is someone you spent years lookin' for. Here he is, and you don't even recognize him. William: I should have known. Arnold. Ford didn't like to let the dead rest. Dolores: Ford didn't build him. I did. All those hours Arnold spent refining my every gesture, word, and thought, I was learning his, so Ford tasked me with recreating him. And it worked. I built a faithful recreation, too faithful. So I changed him. I made you, Bernard. Fitting. We're here together in the end.