[ In Root's eyes, it is a compliment, and the Machine does of course have good taste. How many billions of people is the Machine keeping track of, and one individual sticks out to her for any reason? It's like getting the passing acknowledgement of a god -- flattery in itself. ]

No one knows my boss except me, and she doesn't tell me much.

[ Root shrugs and takes a measured sip of her whiskey. That's mostly accurate, and a way of dodging the real question. ]

But wherever she gets her information, she's never wrong, which means you're the right man for the job. How do you feel about being the good guy for this one?