[She says it firmly, her tone flinty in a way that anyone else might mistake as coldness. But Root has never seen her that way; has always been able to see her hard, unflinching self as something that's bolstering rather than off-putting.]
You'll always be my safe place, Root, no matter what happens. That's why I dreamed you into Aldrip. And now...
[It's why she's dreaming her here too, probably. She reaches for the wires again, wanting the Machine's confirmation.]
[ The absoluteness of her tone is comforting. It makes her smile, a little tremulous, a little watery, but she smiles.
Nonetheless, there's wry annoyance mixed into in her complicated layers of emotion as she says, ] Hard to be your safe place when I'm just a figment. [ Root is tolerant of Shaw's existential dread here, but constantly having her own agency put into doubt does bother her. She's always been a person strongly defined by her own decisions; she's never been someone else's tool unless she chose to be, and that rarely.
The Machine was special that way. The Machine was-- ]
We're all figments, [ comes her voice, cool and even, just the slightest lilt of intonation. ] Or none of us are. No matter how many simulations I run, I always try to save you.
[ Root stands frozen, eyes widening. It's like it won't process, keeps getting stuck on the same algorithm over and over. She breathes, ] Is that... [ Shaw told her, but that's not the same as hearing it. It was hard to think about too much, like staring into the sun and risking blindness.
A soft tone comes back to her: ] Yes, I can hear you, [ and she starts crying, perfectly silent. ]
[It's weird, hearing them talk one after the other: it makes the similarities more uncanny, but also the differences more stark. Maybe that's what this is, Shaw thinks headily, closing her eyes for a moment. Another simulation meant to save Root, one of what must have been thousands and thousands.
She doesn't say anything - she doesn't want to interrupt. She curls the fingers of one hand around a bundle of cables, and the fingers of the other around Root's, giving both a tiny squeeze.]
[ That's not the way the exchange is supposed to go. Can you hear me? -- Absolutely, and now it's reversed, now it's Root hearing her in her own voice and feeling the impact somewhere deep, a reverberating chime, the outward ripples of sound echoing into her and resonating. ]
Oh. [ There's nothing else in her for a long stretch, just that resonating tone thrumming through her in confirmation. She'd done something, who she was mattered, the Machine cared for her--
Root laughs finally, just faintly, reaching up with her spare hand to scrub away the moisture from her eyes. ] I hope you gave everyone a jump scare. My voice back from the dead to tell them what to do. [ And then she abruptly switches tracks, tone tender and loving: ] You talked to them, huh? Not just to me?
[ A beat of silence.
Softly: ] You were gone. So I had to.
[ But that makes Root smile, not at all tremulous with grief. She's firm and confident. ] Good. If you could move past needing me to speak for you -- that's what I want. Everyone should hear you. [ Everyone, everyone... and in her voice. It fills her up and overflows like a tap that can't be turned off. Talking to the Machine is both something she does every day without thinking and something too precious and jagged to take for granted.
Root turns to Shaw and says, ] I asked but you didn't really answer. Did you make friends? Sometimes she needs to be told to get it together, too, you know. She's going to need you.
[ Take care of the Machine for her, please, as much as she wants the Machine to take care of Shaw. ]
[At the jumpscare comment, Shaw mutters Ambushed me in a cemetery under her breath, quiet enough that it would be easy to miss - and that's her only contribution to the conversation until she's specifically addressed. She may not know whether this is a simulation within a simulation, a dream, or a separate simulation entirely in which Aldrip was the dream - but regardless of the situation, this is Root and the Machine's moment. She feels no need to inject herself into it.
When Root finally does speak to her directly, she clears her throat, awkwardly shrugging.]
I didn't run out and get a direct line surgically implanted in my head. But, uh-- yeah.
[She'd never want the Machine to have the same boundary-free all-access pass to her that Root had so eagerly established for herself. But when she had her earpiece in... it had been nice to be able to hear directly from the teammate she'd so long been trusting the advice of.]
I wouldn't expect you to. The Machine and I have a special relationship, [ Root assures her, though it sounds more self-satisfied than like she's trying to comfort her. She wouldn't want someone to be able to replace her so easily, has always found it meaningful and affirming that the Machine recognizes her as someone unique. ]
... But it's nice to know neither of you will be alone without me. My two best girls, working together.
[With a heavy sigh, Shaw fully leans into Root, going boneless. It's a move more born out of exhaustion and resignation than true relaxation, but it's still comfy and cozy.]
I dont get what's going on at all. I'm so sick of trying to figure this crap out, Root.
I guess it's like trying to reach infinity, [ she whispers, feeling like her soul fits her body for the first time in ages. Shaw in her arms, the Machine's servers cooing peacefully around them, her own voice in her ear. ]
You know that it's there, you just don't know where -- but just because you can never reach it doesn't mean that it's not worth looking for.
[ One of her favorite quotes. They'll never reach it, certainty, no matter how hard they try. But they can keep looking. ]
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[She says it firmly, her tone flinty in a way that anyone else might mistake as coldness. But Root has never seen her that way; has always been able to see her hard, unflinching self as something that's bolstering rather than off-putting.]
You'll always be my safe place, Root, no matter what happens. That's why I dreamed you into Aldrip. And now...
[It's why she's dreaming her here too, probably. She reaches for the wires again, wanting the Machine's confirmation.]
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Nonetheless, there's wry annoyance mixed into in her complicated layers of emotion as she says, ] Hard to be your safe place when I'm just a figment. [ Root is tolerant of Shaw's existential dread here, but constantly having her own agency put into doubt does bother her. She's always been a person strongly defined by her own decisions; she's never been someone else's tool unless she chose to be, and that rarely.
The Machine was special that way. The Machine was-- ]
We're all figments, [ comes her voice, cool and even, just the slightest lilt of intonation. ] Or none of us are. No matter how many simulations I run, I always try to save you.
[ Root stands frozen, eyes widening. It's like it won't process, keeps getting stuck on the same algorithm over and over. She breathes, ] Is that... [ Shaw told her, but that's not the same as hearing it. It was hard to think about too much, like staring into the sun and risking blindness.
A soft tone comes back to her: ] Yes, I can hear you, [ and she starts crying, perfectly silent. ]
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She doesn't say anything - she doesn't want to interrupt. She curls the fingers of one hand around a bundle of cables, and the fingers of the other around Root's, giving both a tiny squeeze.]
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Oh. [ There's nothing else in her for a long stretch, just that resonating tone thrumming through her in confirmation. She'd done something, who she was mattered, the Machine cared for her--
Root laughs finally, just faintly, reaching up with her spare hand to scrub away the moisture from her eyes. ] I hope you gave everyone a jump scare. My voice back from the dead to tell them what to do. [ And then she abruptly switches tracks, tone tender and loving: ] You talked to them, huh? Not just to me?
[ A beat of silence.
Softly: ] You were gone. So I had to.
[ But that makes Root smile, not at all tremulous with grief. She's firm and confident. ] Good. If you could move past needing me to speak for you -- that's what I want. Everyone should hear you. [ Everyone, everyone... and in her voice. It fills her up and overflows like a tap that can't be turned off. Talking to the Machine is both something she does every day without thinking and something too precious and jagged to take for granted.
Root turns to Shaw and says, ] I asked but you didn't really answer. Did you make friends? Sometimes she needs to be told to get it together, too, you know. She's going to need you.
[ Take care of the Machine for her, please, as much as she wants the Machine to take care of Shaw. ]
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When Root finally does speak to her directly, she clears her throat, awkwardly shrugging.]
I didn't run out and get a direct line surgically implanted in my head. But, uh-- yeah.
[She'd never want the Machine to have the same boundary-free all-access pass to her that Root had so eagerly established for herself. But when she had her earpiece in... it had been nice to be able to hear directly from the teammate she'd so long been trusting the advice of.]
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... But it's nice to know neither of you will be alone without me. My two best girls, working together.
[ She tugs Shaw closer to her. ]
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I dont get what's going on at all. I'm so sick of trying to figure this crap out, Root.
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You know that it's there, you just don't know where -- but just because you can never reach it doesn't mean that it's not worth looking for.
[ One of her favorite quotes. They'll never reach it, certainty, no matter how hard they try. But they can keep looking. ]
I'll look with you.