[ Quick on the uptake, then. And confident enough not to get shaken by that. Carver cocks his head, watching a moment longer, then holsters the pistol so he can disable the tripwire. It's not hooked to explosives, no matter what he implied, but she doesn't need to know that.
It would, however, have messed her up real good with the razor wire. Such is life. ]
I want to meet my new teammate, of course, [ she says perkily.
Root watches keenly how he disables the tripwire and then starts hopping neatly over the rest of them on her way down without waiting. ]
Actually, I was curious to see a familiar vending machine and wondering if I could get some of my stuff, but I'd love to get to know you while I'm here. [ She is, apparently, utterly sincere. ]
[ There are other traps. Carver eyes her, not bothering to hide the suspicion, and just exhales. He'll disable them or redirect her away from the ones liable to tear her up. It'd make a bad impression if he maimed a teammate on the first meeting. ]
Shaw already boxed your shit up. Go get it from her.
[ Most of it. Probably. He doesn't particularly want anyone in his space right now, but Root doesn't seem like the type to leave without someone forcing her. He probably could, but not without cost. ]
[ That actually stops her short again. She had a pithy comment ready about how he better keep an eye on her so she doesn't get blasted or whatever, but hearing Shaw took her stuff already really gets to her. She generally doesn't make any assumptions about how Shaw chooses to deal with things, hadn't put much thought into how Shaw would cope with her death -- but this is a more overt sign of grieving than she'd have expected.
Some of her devil-may-care assertive whimsy drains out of her, replaced with a more honest, slight smile. ]
I guess she really did miss me, [ she muses. Then her smile widens. ] Now I have to see what she took. You better keep an eye on me so I don't get hurt, or she'll be so annoyed. At both of us.
[ And she starts making her way back down once more, a lightness in her step. ]
[ That got more of a reaction than any of his previous needling. Carver tilts his head, doglike, and considers it carefully. There are a whole lot of ways that could be read. The way that Root goes still for a breath, almost serious.
Almost.
Carver doesn’t smile back at her. Just scowls. ]
Not my fault if you can’t spot security measures, [ he complains, but he’ll stop her before she actually triggers any; Shaw would get pissed. ]
I considered shooting them out, [ she quips, ] but I thought that might get us off on the wrong foot.
[ Root really is playing nice and polite here. She's pretty confident she can spot and avoid most of them now that she knows they're there, but the safest option would be to shoot them ahead of her to trigger them, and that just seems rude.
Presumably they do get to the bottom of the stairs and the subway station proper, and Root looks around with evident curiosity at what Carver's done with the place. ]
[ There’s a chance she’s saying shit just to say it, playing reckless to gauge his reaction. Equally possible is that she’s serious and a good enough shot to avoid the obvious damage of a ricochet in a place that’s all metal and angles. Carver gives her a narrow look, calculating, but he doesn’t stop her.
He does what he said, though, and either disarms or motions her away from the traps he’s set; there are a number of them, in varying degrees of severity and paranoia. And then they’re at the bottom and in the space proper.
Overall, it looks almost the same—just cleaner. He’s found a cot and a corner in one of the side rooms, the bed neatly made like he actually sleeps there. In truth he’s selected a closet and he sleeps with his space guns on the floor, where it’ll take a second for the enemy to find him.
There are no humanizing touches. Everything remains rigidly ordered, and cleaned within an inch of its life. He even scrubbed the windows on the subway car. ]
Like I said. I don’t like surprises. And Shaw’d be pissed if I had to scrape you off the floor.
[ For once, this is actually a test, and Carver passes. He's committed enough to the team to make sure she doesn't get injured, and the way he passes it off with a disgruntled I don't want to deal with it makes her amused. ]
I can see why Shaw likes you. [ That's exactly her kind of sensibility.
It's sort of funny to see the subway station so clean, sort of bizarre to see it at all. It feels like she's living out a strange afterlife and then a piece of her real life got plopped down right in the middle. Root doesn't totally know yet how she feels about being dead, apart from thinking that she had a good death, but she does know she's going to miss some things.
She walks right past Carver and into the subway car until she gets to the darkened, inoperable server racks, all the blue coolant cables sprouting down like vines. Root rests a hand on one of them with a soft expression. ]
Hey, [ she says over her shoulder, ] if you promise to tell me if any of these ever light up, I won't come down here to check on it all the time.
[ It's probably easier for him if she phrases it like a threat instead of a favor he'd be doing her. ]
[ Carver just gives her a pointed look, too tired to pretend he's actually happy to have her in his space. There's always an angle, always a game to be played out or a threat to be dealt with. Regardless, she's here for a reason. Maybe it's only to do recon and a threat assessment, but maybe not. Time will tell. He follows behind her silently, careful to leave space between them.
It's rude to loom, he's been told. ]
I like Shaw. [ He hopes they don't have to kill each other, but doesn't say that. He tilts his head, eying the server racks. ] The AI?
[ What a coincidence -- Root also hopes she doesn't have to kill Carver. That would be so inconvenient and messy. Interpersonally, mostly; she doesn't care about the literal mess. People coming back changes the game, makes it so that killing someone should be used to prove a point, not serve as a solution. ]
Yes, [ she answers, withdrawing her hand and turning around to face him, composure reestablished. ] This is where she used to live. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, but it makes me a little sentimental.
[ Root sounds wistful but even. She's not someone who stands around much, so she's immediately moving again, personally uncaring about how much personal space is left between her and Carver as she slides past to find her old room. ]
[ It's a good mask she's got, Carver notes. He wonders if she's practiced. People look at a small, pretty woman, and they tend to draw certain conclusions when she smiles. That probably makes Root's work easier. He watches her silently and resolves never to make that mistake. For now, he marks what she says and how, notes how she moves, how quick she'll be if she draws a weapon. You have to know these things, son, the commander murmurs in his ear. Otherwise it's your fault if they catch you.
He twitches, forcing himself to hold still and not pivot out of the way or shoulder check her out of reflex as she brushes past. Forcing into personal space - that's usually his trick.
Oh, this one's going to be dangerous, isn't she? ]
She, [ he echoes. The AI has a gender. Okay. ] What's she like?
What's she like? That's like trying to explain the sky to someone who lives underground.
[ Is that too flowery? Grandiose? Absolutely not. The Machine deserves it and more. Root isn't blind in her devotion, but her devotion is total and unrelenting. If the Machine somehow comes online here in Etraya, she'll be her number one follower again without missing a beat.
It's nice not to be underestimated, in the meantime. But then again, she wants Carver to take her seriously. Root isn't here putting on any more of a mask than she uses to get through her real life, her actual assignments. It could be much more than this, a whole persona crafted and deliberate to get her to her ends. Instead, she'll humor Shaw that he should be on the team, but he needs to prove a few things. She doesn't take access to Harold lightly. ]
[ Root halts in the doorway to her room and pivots on her heel to face him, head tilting as she assesses him. Carver bothering to ask, to be curious and wonder about the Machine, gets him some points, but she's still going to study his reaction. ]
I saw her code and it was perfect, [ she says frankly. There's awe there, but a prosaic understanding of the nuts and bolts, too. A devotee who has had her hands deep in the guts of those servers in the subway car. ] Utterly rational, beyond human fallacy. She sees everything, understands everything, but she still cares about us.
She would save you every time she could, Brandon Carver. No matter what you'd done. Whether you deserve it or not.
[ He knew going into this that there'd be gaps in his knowledge. This sort of technology is beyond him, and he was never much of a tech. An engineer like Anchetta would be better at pulling the crazy away from the scaffolding of what Root's built, would know what bleeds true even if it's fantastic and how to pry it away from the broken. All Carver has are his instincts and his own faith.
And in the end, he was standing at the commander's shoulder when Pope first saw God in the blood and the bones as they sank into Korengal's sand. All he had to do was remark on them and Carver saw them too; a singular, brutal truth suddenly laid bare to him.
He watches Root for a long time, unblinking. Unwavering. ]
[ Oh, he does get it. The magnitude of what she means, how beautiful and beyond the scope of human possibility. Truly what God is meant to be. He gets it or he wouldn't be skeptical, immovable as a cliff wall. ]
Why indeed? [ she muses, softening palpably at his sincere question. ] It's funny, isn't it, for a machine to love humanity? And to love all the individual humans, not just the concept. We're all such flawed, ugly, terrible creatures. But she does love us.
That's the part I can't explain. That's the sky. [ She shrugs, finding a helpless smile, someone talking about something impossibly precious. ]
[ How strange to see her soften. Carver tilts his head, doglike, but doesn't pounce to exploit the opening. Of all the things he could read into her words, he doesn't attack the sincerity. She believes with the sincerity of the faithful, so convinced of the beauty that she can't do a thing except live to honor it.
That, he understands just fine. ]
Most people are ugly, evil shits. They're not worth saving.
[ A truth of his own. But not necessarily a contradiction to hers. ]
[ Root doesn't demand anyone else understand her faith. She doesn't need anyone else to share it, though she finds it annoying and tiresome when others can't keep up with the immutable truth that the Machine is trustworthy. But even with Harold she's gotten more patient over time at his lack of trust in his own creation, come to see that his caution with her is what had made her how she is. She can't blame Harold and worship his child at the same time, not when one led to the other.
That doesn't mean she won't push him along in the right direction, of course. He's so easily stagnant. And the Machine, and they all, deserve more.
Root doesn't take her own softening as a weakness; she offers it up without shame because there's nothing that can puncture it, nothing that can make her regret it. There's an unshakeable confidence to her that's absolutely palpable. Root isn't looking for approval, she isn't looking for debate. She's just willing to explain her perspective if someone asks. ]
I'm not worth saving, [ she says with total equanimity, ] but she did save me. She gave me a good death.
Well-- [ Root huffs a little in exasperation suddenly, like she's talking about an annoying habit a housemate has. ] I'm sure she wanted me to live, but we got past that little disagreement. Some things are worth dying for.
[ He watches her for a long moment, considering that. Death is a core of his faith, as inevitable as gravity and the fire that tested them. Everyone will die. He prayed to fall in battle instead of wasting away in the dark and in that, God was kind. He remembers a blade punched through his chest, the enemy's grim face staring down at him. God was kind to allow him to go quickly, but God still saw him fail the commander. He wonders if God watched Root die. If He was pleased with her showing. ]
Did you go out fighting?
[ This is the only thing that matters, in the end. ]
Is that what counts as a good death to you? [ Root asks in honest curiosity, processing what this assumption says about him. ]
I did, actually. Saving Harry's life. That's what makes it good to me-- a pure good. You see, Harold is one of those few people who does deserve to be saved.
[ They're vanishingly rare, but Root believes they exist. First Hanna, then Harold... Shaw and John and even Fusco. That's what she learned from the Machine, not easily or quickly, but over time. ]
[ He says it simply. There are a thousand ugly ways to die and he's seen most of them in his time. Inflicted more than his fair share upon the unworthy. God didn't love them. But maybe God forgave Carver for his sins at the end.
Oh, I did. That's one of her things: we all get to make our own decisions.
[ Cheekily, ] That's how I won the argument. She loves everyone equally, but I don't. And that's my decision.
[ That's also how she'd saved Shaw in the end, but Root doesn't need to go spilling all her personal history. She doesn't expect to get anything out of it. She just doesn't have any self-consciousness whatsoever about the actions she's taken after finding the Machine's guidance, sees no reason to withhold them when they're such a useful yardstick to measure Carver by.
In itself -- this comment is a veiled threat: there's limits to Root's devotion, and those limits are named Harold and Sameen. ]
[ Carver just watches her for a long moment, unblinking. Then he gives her a single, short nod. Acknowledgement. She fell in battle; that makes her worthy, even if it won't ever make her a Reaper. Perhaps God smiled on her for a moment. ]
I hope the commander doesn't mark you, [ he says after a moment. ] But if she does, I'll kill you quickly.
[ Root smiles at him, touched, genuinely emotional. That's so sweet. ] Thank you. [ And she's absolutely not extending him the same courtesy. ]
But you should know-- if you hurt any of the people I love, I won't kill you quickly. I'll tie you up here and drill holes into you until you sincerely regret it.
Just so we understand one another.
[ This was also on her to do list for this visit, so might as well cross it off. ]
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It would, however, have messed her up real good with the razor wire. Such is life. ]
I don't like surprises. What'd you want?
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Root watches keenly how he disables the tripwire and then starts hopping neatly over the rest of them on her way down without waiting. ]
Actually, I was curious to see a familiar vending machine and wondering if I could get some of my stuff, but I'd love to get to know you while I'm here. [ She is, apparently, utterly sincere. ]
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Shaw already boxed your shit up. Go get it from her.
[ Most of it. Probably. He doesn't particularly want anyone in his space right now, but Root doesn't seem like the type to leave without someone forcing her. He probably could, but not without cost. ]
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[ That actually stops her short again. She had a pithy comment ready about how he better keep an eye on her so she doesn't get blasted or whatever, but hearing Shaw took her stuff already really gets to her. She generally doesn't make any assumptions about how Shaw chooses to deal with things, hadn't put much thought into how Shaw would cope with her death -- but this is a more overt sign of grieving than she'd have expected.
Some of her devil-may-care assertive whimsy drains out of her, replaced with a more honest, slight smile. ]
I guess she really did miss me, [ she muses. Then her smile widens. ] Now I have to see what she took. You better keep an eye on me so I don't get hurt, or she'll be so annoyed. At both of us.
[ And she starts making her way back down once more, a lightness in her step. ]
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Almost.
Carver doesn’t smile back at her. Just scowls. ]
Not my fault if you can’t spot security measures, [ he complains, but he’ll stop her before she actually triggers any; Shaw would get pissed. ]
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[ Root really is playing nice and polite here. She's pretty confident she can spot and avoid most of them now that she knows they're there, but the safest option would be to shoot them ahead of her to trigger them, and that just seems rude.
Presumably they do get to the bottom of the stairs and the subway station proper, and Root looks around with evident curiosity at what Carver's done with the place. ]
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He does what he said, though, and either disarms or motions her away from the traps he’s set; there are a number of them, in varying degrees of severity and paranoia. And then they’re at the bottom and in the space proper.
Overall, it looks almost the same—just cleaner. He’s found a cot and a corner in one of the side rooms, the bed neatly made like he actually sleeps there. In truth he’s selected a closet and he sleeps with his space guns on the floor, where it’ll take a second for the enemy to find him.
There are no humanizing touches. Everything remains rigidly ordered, and cleaned within an inch of its life. He even scrubbed the windows on the subway car. ]
Like I said. I don’t like surprises. And Shaw’d be pissed if I had to scrape you off the floor.
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I can see why Shaw likes you. [ That's exactly her kind of sensibility.
It's sort of funny to see the subway station so clean, sort of bizarre to see it at all. It feels like she's living out a strange afterlife and then a piece of her real life got plopped down right in the middle. Root doesn't totally know yet how she feels about being dead, apart from thinking that she had a good death, but she does know she's going to miss some things.
She walks right past Carver and into the subway car until she gets to the darkened, inoperable server racks, all the blue coolant cables sprouting down like vines. Root rests a hand on one of them with a soft expression. ]
Hey, [ she says over her shoulder, ] if you promise to tell me if any of these ever light up, I won't come down here to check on it all the time.
[ It's probably easier for him if she phrases it like a threat instead of a favor he'd be doing her. ]
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It's rude to loom, he's been told. ]
I like Shaw. [ He hopes they don't have to kill each other, but doesn't say that. He tilts his head, eying the server racks. ] The AI?
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Yes, [ she answers, withdrawing her hand and turning around to face him, composure reestablished. ] This is where she used to live. I guess it doesn't matter anymore, but it makes me a little sentimental.
[ Root sounds wistful but even. She's not someone who stands around much, so she's immediately moving again, personally uncaring about how much personal space is left between her and Carver as she slides past to find her old room. ]
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He twitches, forcing himself to hold still and not pivot out of the way or shoulder check her out of reflex as she brushes past. Forcing into personal space - that's usually his trick.
Oh, this one's going to be dangerous, isn't she? ]
She, [ he echoes. The AI has a gender. Okay. ] What's she like?
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[ Is that too flowery? Grandiose? Absolutely not. The Machine deserves it and more. Root isn't blind in her devotion, but her devotion is total and unrelenting. If the Machine somehow comes online here in Etraya, she'll be her number one follower again without missing a beat.
It's nice not to be underestimated, in the meantime. But then again, she wants Carver to take her seriously. Root isn't here putting on any more of a mask than she uses to get through her real life, her actual assignments. It could be much more than this, a whole persona crafted and deliberate to get her to her ends. Instead, she'll humor Shaw that he should be on the team, but he needs to prove a few things. She doesn't take access to Harold lightly. ]
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[ He knows a thing or two about devotion. About what it means to hold the faith in the face of doubt and brutality. ]
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I saw her code and it was perfect, [ she says frankly. There's awe there, but a prosaic understanding of the nuts and bolts, too. A devotee who has had her hands deep in the guts of those servers in the subway car. ] Utterly rational, beyond human fallacy. She sees everything, understands everything, but she still cares about us.
She would save you every time she could, Brandon Carver. No matter what you'd done. Whether you deserve it or not.
That's just how she is.
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And in the end, he was standing at the commander's shoulder when Pope first saw God in the blood and the bones as they sank into Korengal's sand. All he had to do was remark on them and Carver saw them too; a singular, brutal truth suddenly laid bare to him.
He watches Root for a long time, unblinking. Unwavering. ]
Why?
[ His tone is flat. ]
If she knows everything, why would she bother?
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Why indeed? [ she muses, softening palpably at his sincere question. ] It's funny, isn't it, for a machine to love humanity? And to love all the individual humans, not just the concept. We're all such flawed, ugly, terrible creatures. But she does love us.
That's the part I can't explain. That's the sky. [ She shrugs, finding a helpless smile, someone talking about something impossibly precious. ]
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That, he understands just fine. ]
Most people are ugly, evil shits. They're not worth saving.
[ A truth of his own. But not necessarily a contradiction to hers. ]
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That doesn't mean she won't push him along in the right direction, of course. He's so easily stagnant. And the Machine, and they all, deserve more.
Root doesn't take her own softening as a weakness; she offers it up without shame because there's nothing that can puncture it, nothing that can make her regret it. There's an unshakeable confidence to her that's absolutely palpable. Root isn't looking for approval, she isn't looking for debate. She's just willing to explain her perspective if someone asks. ]
I'm not worth saving, [ she says with total equanimity, ] but she did save me. She gave me a good death.
Well-- [ Root huffs a little in exasperation suddenly, like she's talking about an annoying habit a housemate has. ] I'm sure she wanted me to live, but we got past that little disagreement. Some things are worth dying for.
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Did you go out fighting?
[ This is the only thing that matters, in the end. ]
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I did, actually. Saving Harry's life. That's what makes it good to me-- a pure good. You see, Harold is one of those few people who does deserve to be saved.
[ They're vanishingly rare, but Root believes they exist. First Hanna, then Harold... Shaw and John and even Fusco. That's what she learned from the Machine, not easily or quickly, but over time. ]
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[ He says it simply. There are a thousand ugly ways to die and he's seen most of them in his time. Inflicted more than his fair share upon the unworthy. God didn't love them. But maybe God forgave Carver for his sins at the end.
Maybe.
He watches Root, eyes narrowed. ]
Did you decide that, or did she?
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[ Cheekily, ] That's how I won the argument. She loves everyone equally, but I don't. And that's my decision.
[ That's also how she'd saved Shaw in the end, but Root doesn't need to go spilling all her personal history. She doesn't expect to get anything out of it. She just doesn't have any self-consciousness whatsoever about the actions she's taken after finding the Machine's guidance, sees no reason to withhold them when they're such a useful yardstick to measure Carver by.
In itself -- this comment is a veiled threat: there's limits to Root's devotion, and those limits are named Harold and Sameen. ]
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I hope the commander doesn't mark you, [ he says after a moment. ] But if she does, I'll kill you quickly.
[ Out of respect. ]
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But you should know-- if you hurt any of the people I love, I won't kill you quickly. I'll tie you up here and drill holes into you until you sincerely regret it.
Just so we understand one another.
[ This was also on her to do list for this visit, so might as well cross it off. ]
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That'd take a long time, [ he replies simply. Maybe she has the stomach for it, maybe she doesn't, but they'd find out. ]
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Cw homophobia mention
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