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[ Root is angry, sure enough, but she's not surprised. There's no ounce of surprise in her, so it doesn't turn to outrage. It's the same low-simmering anger she's carried with her all her life, it feels, since she was twelve, since Hanna disappeared and died and no one in their community dared to question the respectable man who'd done it. She's also expecting Charles to have some sad story like this behind his death. No one dies that young and has anything good behind it -- and she still has a weakness hidden a mile deep for people who died young. ]
They probably didn't mean to kill you, but you were dead anyway, [ she says matter of factly, because Root knows how easy and simple it is to kill someone without meaning to. She'd be a poor assassin if she didn't. Sometimes she's had collateral damage and in retrospect she feels ... regret. True regret. ]
What you did means something, Charles. It means you're a good person.
[ Maybe that's rudimentary, maybe it should be a foregone conclusion, but Root feels like it needs to be said aloud because it means so much to her when someone is good. It's not a foregone conclusion, it's not a certainty; people who are good like this are precious and rare and she wants to make sure they know that she recognizes that. That who they are is something special. ]
They probably didn't mean to kill you, but you were dead anyway, [ she says matter of factly, because Root knows how easy and simple it is to kill someone without meaning to. She'd be a poor assassin if she didn't. Sometimes she's had collateral damage and in retrospect she feels ... regret. True regret. ]
What you did means something, Charles. It means you're a good person.
[ Maybe that's rudimentary, maybe it should be a foregone conclusion, but Root feels like it needs to be said aloud because it means so much to her when someone is good. It's not a foregone conclusion, it's not a certainty; people who are good like this are precious and rare and she wants to make sure they know that she recognizes that. That who they are is something special. ]
You know you guys text the same way? Cute and a little nauseating.
Are you referring to Shaw as my canine or do you mean Bear, the actual canine?
Are you referring to Shaw as my canine or do you mean Bear, the actual canine?
>> I would not ascribe those terms to my fashion of reporting.
>> As for who I am emulating, you will have to elucidate.
[ Vulcans never lie, Spock said, lying. ]
>> Bear.
>> I did not catch their name.
[ He's going to regret this, but: ]
>> Why would I refer to her as your canine?
>> As for who I am emulating, you will have to elucidate.
[ Vulcans never lie, Spock said, lying. ]
>> Bear.
>> I did not catch their name.
[ He's going to regret this, but: ]
>> Why would I refer to her as your canine?
[ Root's just going to ignore his silly shenanigans and respond like he answered for real. ]
Or is he emulating you? Maybe it's like those people who end up looking a lot like their dogs over time. Have you seen those memes?
She's growly and protective and follows me around. It fits.
Or is he emulating you? Maybe it's like those people who end up looking a lot like their dogs over time. Have you seen those memes?
She's growly and protective and follows me around. It fits.
[The defunct subway car from their base rattles lightly as it trundles down the track; Shaw, unsteady on her feet, sways precariously, gripping the grab bar far tighter than any self-respecting New Yorker shoulder have to. She's barefoot, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top - the same ones the Decima folks stuck her in after they let her change out of the hospital gown - and there's an IV line dangling from her inner forearm, though the loose end isn't attached to anything. It doesn't make sense, but she doesn't even register it enough to question it. She's focused on one thing, and one thing only: the servers on the far side of the car. It is vital that she gets to them, because the Machine has a message for her - and right now, nothing matters as much as hearing it.
The car jerks hard to the left, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She growls, yanks the IV needle out of her arm, and pulls herself doggedly to her feet, determined to keep going.]
The car jerks hard to the left, sending her sprawling onto the floor. She growls, yanks the IV needle out of her arm, and pulls herself doggedly to her feet, determined to keep going.]
[ Keeping the hospital patient theme, Root is dressed in her psychiatric inpatient finest, a loose grey cardigan over grey clothes, except her slippers are the fuzzy pink ones she'd asked Harold for when she lived in the station. She's seated on the floor, curled up into the far corner where the server racks are, cooling cables draped around her like she'd like to be plugged in herself.
She's either asleep or dead, and either way it's disconcerting. Root carries an immense presence and force of personality with her -- she tends to steal the air from the whole room -- and right now she's absolutely vacant, eyes closed, face slack against a blinking server.
As Shaw approaches, Root's voice speaks directly into her ear, calm and level. ]
Do you want to hear it again? I understand. I loved her, too.
I can say it in her intonation if you'd like, but I thought that might come across as disrespectful.
She's either asleep or dead, and either way it's disconcerting. Root carries an immense presence and force of personality with her -- she tends to steal the air from the whole room -- and right now she's absolutely vacant, eyes closed, face slack against a blinking server.
As Shaw approaches, Root's voice speaks directly into her ear, calm and level. ]
Do you want to hear it again? I understand. I loved her, too.
I can say it in her intonation if you'd like, but I thought that might come across as disrespectful.
[She's dead. Regardless of whether or not it's actually true, Shaw feels that she knows this for a fact, so she takes no time to study the body or feel for a pulse. She goes right to the Machine, pressing both her palms flat against the side of one of the servers, and exhales deeply.]
Say it however you want to say it.
Say it however you want to say it.
[ How does the Machine want to say it? If it has wants, it's to let Root speak for herself. It's clips of her natural voice, a recording, the hours and hours of archival audio the Machine uses to mimic her with 99.6% accuracy.
Quiet, soft, contemplative, like she's measuring out every word: ] If the worst comes to pass... could you give Shaw a message?
--She has an Axis II personality disorder, which means technically, she's a sociopath. [ Her voice is strong now, composed, impenetrable. Absolutely sure of what she's saying. ] Incapable of caring for others. The thing is, she does care. Enough to save my life.
And now I'm going to save hers.
--I'm going after her --
[ Emotion rising, imploring the listener to understand: ] I thought I could sacrifice everyone, I really did. Win some, lose some, right?
--Please, help us! [ she cries desperately, tears choking her voice, ] I need an answer, if Sameen is alive or if she's dead --
Shaw is out there somewhere, [ she hisses furiously. ] ... I refuse to do one more mission until I know what I'm doing is going to lead me to Sameen. Please.
[ In a haunting whisper: ] Hold on, Shaw. --Please get this.
[ And finally, Harold, soft and careful, almost aching with suppressed compassion: ] I think she already knows.
Quiet, soft, contemplative, like she's measuring out every word: ] If the worst comes to pass... could you give Shaw a message?
--She has an Axis II personality disorder, which means technically, she's a sociopath. [ Her voice is strong now, composed, impenetrable. Absolutely sure of what she's saying. ] Incapable of caring for others. The thing is, she does care. Enough to save my life.
And now I'm going to save hers.
--I'm going after her --
[ Emotion rising, imploring the listener to understand: ] I thought I could sacrifice everyone, I really did. Win some, lose some, right?
--Please, help us! [ she cries desperately, tears choking her voice, ] I need an answer, if Sameen is alive or if she's dead --
Shaw is out there somewhere, [ she hisses furiously. ] ... I refuse to do one more mission until I know what I'm doing is going to lead me to Sameen. Please.
[ In a haunting whisper: ] Hold on, Shaw. --Please get this.
[ And finally, Harold, soft and careful, almost aching with suppressed compassion: ] I think she already knows.
[The IV line that Shaw had pulled out of her arm lies abandoned on the floor, but now she holds something else in her fist: a needle, filled with a clear liquid. Slowly, carefully she lowers herself to the floor next to the servers, back pressed against them, legs bent at the knee in front of her.]
Good timing.
[She murmurs to herself, cradling the syringe in her hands. She doesn't put it down, but she doesn't look ready to use it, either.]
Thank you. Can you give her a message back?
[Dream logic. She feels certain that Root is dead, but that doesn't mean she feels certain that she's gone.]
Good timing.
[She murmurs to herself, cradling the syringe in her hands. She doesn't put it down, but she doesn't look ready to use it, either.]
Thank you. Can you give her a message back?
[Dream logic. She feels certain that Root is dead, but that doesn't mean she feels certain that she's gone.]
[ The Machine would agree. It saw her die thousands of times and in its memory banks, Root is eternal. It can recreate her voice and hear her at any moment. It's not the same, but it also means she's not gone. ]
What's the message?
What's the message?
You know what's funny? [ muses the Machine, delicate and precise in Root's voice. ] She and Harry had that exchange years ago. There's never enough time.
[ A beat of silence. ]
But there's time now. She's right there.
[ Maybe Root is actually dead; maybe she's a simulation; but she is there, and that's enough for her. But is it enough for Shaw? ]
[ A beat of silence. ]
But there's time now. She's right there.
[ Maybe Root is actually dead; maybe she's a simulation; but she is there, and that's enough for her. But is it enough for Shaw? ]
[Shaw's skin is cold as she reaches up and takes hold of Definitely Dead Root, wrapping her fingers loosely around the back of her hand.]
I dreamed we were in this... simulated city. But we've been here the whole time, haven't we.
[Right here, on the floor of a destinationless, endlessly moving subway car.]
I dreamed we were in this... simulated city. But we've been here the whole time, haven't we.
[Right here, on the floor of a destinationless, endlessly moving subway car.]
[ it is an easy thing, for him to nod at that first thing — yeah, that's what he thinks, too. that they didn't mean for it to happen; that's why he bristles at the times someone calls him a murder victim, because yeah, sure, they meant to hurt him, but... no, he doesn't think any of them did it with the intent to kill.
but then more words are spoken, what you did means something, and he's abruptly reminded of sitting on the floor in one of the rooms at the inn, leaning against the wall, his own voice faded away from telling the details of his death, junpei staring at the floor with blazing eyes and saying, fuck them, for real, you did everything right —
he can't quite help the way the words, different though they are, hit him in a similar way. except now he can smile at root, softly, and say, ]
You're the second person ever to say something like that to me, you know. That it wasn't for nothing.
but then more words are spoken, what you did means something, and he's abruptly reminded of sitting on the floor in one of the rooms at the inn, leaning against the wall, his own voice faded away from telling the details of his death, junpei staring at the floor with blazing eyes and saying, fuck them, for real, you did everything right —
he can't quite help the way the words, different though they are, hit him in a similar way. except now he can smile at root, softly, and say, ]
You're the second person ever to say something like that to me, you know. That it wasn't for nothing.
[ Victim is such a loaded word. Has Root had victims? Technically, according to the criminal justice system, she's had plenty. But who gets to be a victim and who doesn't is something she's all too conscientious of. She's sure she was buried in an unmarked grave and that no one had even tried to track down the sniper who'd shot her. No one except Shaw. Whether or not someone counts as a victim is a story society tells itself to make sense of death. Root doesn't need it to make sense. It's messy and contradictory and she thrives in that kind of ambiguity.
She can also tell when she's hit something sensitive and immediately turns supportive. ]
See? [ she says lightly. ] The Machine was right. The moment before you died does say a lot about you.
And I really like what it says.
She can also tell when she's hit something sensitive and immediately turns supportive. ]
See? [ she says lightly. ] The Machine was right. The moment before you died does say a lot about you.
And I really like what it says.
It's hard for you. What Samaritan did was traumatizing. The human brain isn't meant to experience that.
[ The Machine as Root sounds factual, even, but with a note of softness like it's offering an opinion. ]
Where do you want to be, if not here? [ A sincere question, not rhetorical. ]
[ The Machine as Root sounds factual, even, but with a note of softness like it's offering an opinion. ]
Where do you want to be, if not here? [ A sincere question, not rhetorical. ]
I don't want to be kidding myself.
[She says the words slowly, turning them over in her brain as she speaks them out loud.]
I don't... want to hide from the real world because I hate the idea of facing it. But I don't know what the real world is anymore. I thought I did - sometimes.
[Eventually, in the weeks after Root's death and the days after Samaritan's defeat, she'd come to tenuously accept that she really was back in reality. But even then, she'd wondered sometimes. A part of her was always going to wonder; her brain had been wired to. And now...]
I hate the idea of being a captive, and I hate the idea of my body wasting away in a hospital bed while my brain is hooked up to a computer. I want being here to have a purpose.
[She says the words slowly, turning them over in her brain as she speaks them out loud.]
I don't... want to hide from the real world because I hate the idea of facing it. But I don't know what the real world is anymore. I thought I did - sometimes.
[Eventually, in the weeks after Root's death and the days after Samaritan's defeat, she'd come to tenuously accept that she really was back in reality. But even then, she'd wondered sometimes. A part of her was always going to wonder; her brain had been wired to. And now...]
I hate the idea of being a captive, and I hate the idea of my body wasting away in a hospital bed while my brain is hooked up to a computer. I want being here to have a purpose.
You were tortured, Sameen.
[ The Machine is frank and unsympathetic, not bothering to mince words and not trying to offer a solution. ]
You didn't have control over that. And you don't have control now. It's natural to feel like it might still be happening.
[ The Machine is frank and unsympathetic, not bothering to mince words and not trying to offer a solution. ]
You didn't have control over that. And you don't have control now. It's natural to feel like it might still be happening.
[ it starts like this: a big abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of london, strange sounds at night, reports made, real, living people sent to investigate it missing. it's a ghost whose house is near the warehouse who comes to make the request — disturbing my peace, it is, all them lights at night, the shouts, a terrible racket! can't a fella live their afterlife in peace? you'll take it, won't you, and it's exactly the kind of job for them —
them. him and who? it's an agency, for sure, and yet when he tries to remember who it is that was there with him, taking the case, the details slip from his grasp like slippery fish. all he knows that it is them, now, him and root (his friend, his big sister in spirit, tough and quicksilver and bullet-smart, he'd trust her with his afterlife), standing here in front of the warehouse, intent on interrogating the ghosts there for details. ]
Right, ready?
[ he doesn't think there might be a chance root wouldn't see them — she sees him, doesn't she? that's enough. ]
them. him and who? it's an agency, for sure, and yet when he tries to remember who it is that was there with him, taking the case, the details slip from his grasp like slippery fish. all he knows that it is them, now, him and root (his friend, his big sister in spirit, tough and quicksilver and bullet-smart, he'd trust her with his afterlife), standing here in front of the warehouse, intent on interrogating the ghosts there for details. ]
Right, ready?
[ he doesn't think there might be a chance root wouldn't see them — she sees him, doesn't she? that's enough. ]
I asked where you want to be, if not here. You only said what you didn't want.
[ It's a neutral observation, but the Machine means it as a leading statement. It can't offer suggestions if it doesn't know what Shaw wants. And however many calculations it can run, ultimately it will always prioritize a human being's right to autonomy. ]
You need a goal. You've always been mission-driven.
[ It's a neutral observation, but the Machine means it as a leading statement. It can't offer suggestions if it doesn't know what Shaw wants. And however many calculations it can run, ultimately it will always prioritize a human being's right to autonomy. ]
You need a goal. You've always been mission-driven.
I don't have a boss here. I don't have any goals. I'm here because of crimes I've committed, which isn't conducive to goal-making. And I don't make great choices when I set my own goals; you know that.
[One hand still holding loosely on to Root's she turns to face the servers fully, her knees bumping against the hard metal.]
So give me one.
[One hand still holding loosely on to Root's she turns to face the servers fully, her knees bumping against the hard metal.]
So give me one.
If you're looking to me for direction, then you should know that my purpose hasn't changed.
[ The Machine sounds smooth, unruffled. It won't contest Shaw's characterization of her own choices but if she's looking for a direction, she should be able to guess the kind of answer the Machine will give her. ]
Why don't you ask her?
[ Root's hand warms and twitches in Shaw's grasp. Her closed eyelids flutter. ]
[ The Machine sounds smooth, unruffled. It won't contest Shaw's characterization of her own choices but if she's looking for a direction, she should be able to guess the kind of answer the Machine will give her. ]
Why don't you ask her?
[ Root's hand warms and twitches in Shaw's grasp. Her closed eyelids flutter. ]
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