Root knows what she means, but it's hard to articulate how to say it in response. She's sure Shaw is talking about the surrealness of constantly doubting whether she's experiencing reality or a simulation, but to Root it means something more, an intrinsic alienation from everyone else around her.

"Everything about this is weird, sweetheart," she answers, twisting so she pushes back against Shaw's fussing, pinning her half beneath her instead of spooning. "That doesn't mean it has to be all bad. Most people don't see it, don't know what they're looking at. But when we find something good, we have to hold onto it. Like I'm holding onto you."

Finding Shaw was magic. The existence of the Machine was magic. Root doesn't believe blindly, she thinks there's a rational explanation, but she believes.