Chapter Text
A/N: Jennifer Hale is THE choosen voice. When the time comes, you'll understand what this means.
“It’s been 30 minutes, Root.”
“Simulations take time, John,” Shaw replied before Root had even moved a muscle. “In fact, I’d say we’re lucky if 30 minutes is all it takes.”
John sighed and kept pacing in front of the cage doors. It had been 40 minutes since Harold had made the decision to go inside, alone, to subject himself to a simulation. He thought that if he was able to witness one of the scenarios, he’d understand where the Machine was failing and where Samaritan was winning.
Outnumbered by those in favor of Harold's decision, John remained heavily concerned about what might happen. Enduring the mental torture to go back into the 10 months she was in captivity, Shaw tried to remember how Samaritan would engage her in the simulations. Seven thousand and fifty three, to be exact. Glasses. Electrodes. And tranquilizers. Shaw shook herself at the memories.
Figuring the electrodes wouldn't be necessary, it took the team roughly 10 minutes to scrambled together the Walmart version of Samaritan’s high quality technology: John stole a pair of virtual reality glasses from the tech store down the street and a set of gaming headphones, just in case. Root offered to set everything up but Harold forbid everyone from getting inside the cage.
The clock started ticking as soon as Harold initiated the simulation. Root was the first to pace, pretending she was moving stuff from the subway to her locker. After her, Shaw decided this was the perfect time to clean her brand new Tikka T3 Tactical. And then, it was John. He had paced so much around the station that Shaw tried to joke about him preparing for the Boston Marathon, but she got nothing in response.
It was exactly 31 minutes and 5 seconds when Harold finally moved. They heard the sound of the space bar being pressed and all eyes turned to Harold. His face was pale and large drops of sweat ran down his face. As he placed the virtual reality and the headphone set down, they noticed how his hands were trembling. Something had gone horribly wrong.
“Harold?” John asked. “Can you hear me?”
No reply. Root got up from the bench in front of the cage and Shaw surfaced from the locker zone. As John got closer to the locked door, Root waved at Shaw, who promptly got the message.
“Harold?” Root tried. Nothing. She looked at John and saw Shaw coming their way with an axe in her hand. It wasn't the weapon she had in mind when she waved at Shaw but Root shrugged at the sight. Once a firecracker, always a firecracker, she figured.
Even though everyone promised not to get inside the cage, Harold still asked John to lock it as an insurance policy. Policy that was about to be broken. Shaw gripped the axe with both hands and swung down on the lock hard. As soon as the second hit smashed it, John took down the remains of the lock, opening the door to the cage. The Machine promptly warned Root not to enter the cage but-
“I’m going in. Whether you like it or not!” Root yelled as she shoved John aside, staggering inside the cage and out of Shaw's attempted grasp at her jacket.
Of course going against Harold’s request and the Machine’s command had a price: the Machine overloaded her cochlear implant in a desperate attempt to stop her from going in. Seeing Root’s legs shiver to the point of having to grip the cage walls to stand, Shaw handed John the axe and got in after Root. She didn’t try to hold her or help her steady herself but she was there, just in case Root fell.
As Root turned the desk to reach Harold, the Machine charged her implant again. This time, Root succumbed and fell to her knees, screaming in pain. That scream was enough to break Harold from his simulation induced trance and he looked down at Root, kneeling beside him with her face covered in tears.
“Harold?” Root mumbled out.
“Ms. Groves,” Harold managed to reply, his voice trembling from the aftermath of everything he witnessed.
Root, placing a hand on top of her implant as if it’d ease her pain, smiled at him. “What did She say?”
Harold's mouth moved, but no sound came out. His ashen face, struck by the sight of Root before him. It was almost as if he couldn’t believe she was right there, in front of him. “Your voice,” he said before, fearfully, reaching forward to touch Root’s face.
Perplexed, Shaw looked over at John, whose face mirrored the confusion he felt inside and then back at Harold. “Harold, no offense, but you’re kinda creeping me out. What the hell happened in there?”
“Sh-” Harold started but promptly stopped himself. He looked between all three of his associates and then focused his attention back on the screen. For a man who always seemed to have something to say, Harold was left speechless.
“Please, Harry…” Root begged as she pushed down on the desk to lift herself but she still didn’t feel strong enough. Noticing that, Shaw reached forward to help Root up. “Say something.”
Harold sighed. “The Machine found a positive outcome.”
It was as if this news, this new piece of hope, had filled Root with strength as she shoved Harold aside and stumbled to see it on screen. It was true. The Machine finally had one victory in her favor. But the fights kept on going and Samaritan kept on winning.
“What are we waiting for, then?” John asked from the door, holding the axe over his shoulder to show that he was ready for war.
“For another positive outcome.”
“What if we don’t get another positive outcome?” Shaw interjected, anger coating voice as her tone rose. “We just sit here and wait for Samaritan to come over and bulldoze our asses?”
Harold looked at Root, as if she was able to stop the hurricane he had just unleashed but Root, suddenly amused, simply shoved her hands in her pockets. “I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do, Ms. Shaw.”
“You think?” Shaw started, pressing her hands on the desk. She had her lethal glare on and there was no way of stopping her now. “How about you tell us what happened between your baby giants and then we figure it out?”
Harold considered it. For a second. But as the simulation started playing through his mind again, Harold shook his head.
Suddenly, the Faraday cage was too small for all of them so Harold tried to leave. With only one exit, his awkward flee attempt prompted both Shaw and Root out of the cage. Shaw was about to speak but Root softly elbowed her arm and they allowed Harold to walk away while John followed him.
“What’s the plan?” John asked as he walked beside Harold. “What do we do now?”
“There is no plan, Mr. Reese.”
“We can’t just sit here and wait for the Machine to win another simulation, Harold. There has to be som-”
John was cut off by a beeping sound coming from inside the subway. Both men turned in the direction of the computer screens and Harold’s name was blinking on all of them.
“She wants to speak to you, Harry,” Root said from behind them and Harold turned to face her. Root gave him a reassuring smile and he nodded in return. As soon as Harold stepped inside the subway car, the doors closed. John was ready to break them with his axe but Root placed a hand on his arm. “Alone.”
Harold looked back at his team one last time before facing the many computer screens. He sighed, unsure of what he was feeling, but took a seat anyway. His name stopped blinking on the screens and the Machine opened a coding page in one of them, while on the other it appeared “I WANT TO TALK TO YOU”.
“Are you asking permission to have a voice?” Harold asked.
The message on the screen deleted itself and instead, it only appeared “YES”. Apprehensive at first, Harold remembered what happened in the simulation he saw and began coding. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of a need to listen to the Machine speak. In no time, Harold pressed the last key and looked up to the bigger screen.
“Alright. You may speak now.”
“Hello, father.” The Machine spoke and Harold gasped. “I understand that something terrible happened in the simulation you witnessed.”
“You don’t know?”
“Negative. I cannot access what happens inside the Faraday cage.”
Harold thought about it for a heartbeat until he realized how stupid he had sounded. Of course the Machine couldn’t access the inside of the cage, he had built it that way. He pushed his glasses up and gave his next words one final thought. “If I tell you everything I saw, will you be able to explain me the reason why it happened that way?”
“Yes.”
“Very well…”
After getting an urgent call from Fusco, John left the subway in a rush. Something had happened at the precinct and the good detective was having some trouble covering up for his missing partner, leaving Root and Shaw alone. Perhaps not that alone since Bear wouldn’t leave the spot he carefully chose to lay down. Exactly between Root and Shaw's feet.
“Can you tell me what happened, now?” Shaw asked, her eyes focused on her furry friend and his chew toy.
Root sighed. “I wish I knew, sweetie.”
That got Shaw’s full attention and she turned to face Root, who was facing forward but clearly not focusing her sight anywhere. “You can’t ask the eye in the sky?”
“She doesn’t know…”
“What do you mean, She doesn’t know?”
“The Machine that’s inside that cage fighting Samaritan isn’t the same that exists outside the cage.”
Shaw furrowed her brow and looked over to the cage. “Wait... Are you saying that there’s two of each now?”
Root let out a sad chuckle. “Not quite.” She waited for Shaw to face her and then proceeded. “Samaritan created a malware that would infect and overwrite all existing code in a drive. Clearly He wasn’t careful enough because the Machine found a way to intersect an infected computer and I copied the malware. After that, I decided to let the program run its course in that computer and I’m sure you can guess what happened next…”
“Samaritan's code went all Pacman on the computer until it became the computer?”
“Getting warmer.” Root smiled, smugly and took the opportunity to get a little warmer too by sitting a little closer to Shaw. Just a little bit closer.
Shaw noticed Root’s approach but decided to let it slide. “What about the Machine? Did Harold make a pocket version of it or what?”
“Pretty much. And then he decided to build in the Faraday cage to lock any signal from going in or out of it and pitched the two Gods against each other like a great Greek Titanomachy.”
“Fun.” Shaw said and looked back to the cage. Root’s description of what was going on inside sounded ten times better than the actual view. “So you really don’t know.”
“No idea.” Root rested back on the bench. “I wasn’t even allowed inside the cage.”
“Noticed,” Shaw replied and turned to point at Root’s head. “The Machine forbid you?”
“No,” Root sighed, her voice smaller than usual. “Harold did.”
Shaw let out a somewhat amused chuckle. “Really? I can’t leave you both alone for two seconds without you two getting on a fight, can’t I?”
Root crocked her head to side and gave Shaw a sterner look. She definitely wasn't ready for that kind of jokes yet. “Sam…”
Shaw rolled her eyes. “What did you do, Eeyore?”
Root shook her head at the name and pursed her lips in a small smile. “Nothing. But Harold was scared that I’d get in the cage to help the Machine win the simulations.” Root said but looked down at Bear, who had just placed his head on top of her right foot. “You know, alter Her code and everything.”
“He created the thing, Root,” Shaw said and reached down to pat Bear’s stomach. “If anyone should alter Her code, it should be him.”
“That’s the problem: he doesn’t want to. He says that if the Machine needs a code alteration, She should do it herself.” Although the theme of the conversation was serious, Root couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Bear was happily wiggling his tail as Shaw petted him. “But She won’t do it. I think She’s scared.”
“Maybe She’s not scared anymore and She did alter Her code,” Shaw said and looked up at Root, “And maybe that’s how She won and scared the crap out of Harold there.”
“Maybe.” Root let out a breath and settled in her seat, staring at the cage. She had a million ideas crossing her mind as to what might’ve happened but for some reason, she suspected none of them would be right.
With Root lost in her thoughts and Shaw giving Bear the special attention he needed, the two women grew silent. It was never awkward between them. Conversely, the silent moments were a time both of them held close to their hearts. They could just sit back and enjoy each others’ company, each others existence and neither would feel the need to verbalize it. An unspoken agreement, of sorts, where both parties knew exactly what the other one didn’t need to say.
As Shaw rested back on the bench, she could feel Root closer to her. Far closer than she was when they first sat down but she didn’t mind. She was comfortable. At home, even.
“I had a dream again.”
Shaw’s voice broke Root out of her trance and she worriedly faced Shaw. “Again? About the simulations?”
“Yes.” Shaw kept her eyes stuck somewhere near the cage.
“What happened?” Root’s voice was soft. “Did you kill anyone?” She added, almost above a whisper.
“Beside myself?” Shaw started as she turned to face Root. “No.”
Shaw noticed the shift on Root’s face. The way the corner of her lips dropped. The way she blinked more times than she usually would. The way her nostrils dilated for a beat and then got back to normal.
“Killing yourself counts as a kill, Shaw…” There was an almost palpable touch of sadness in Root’s voice. “One I’d give everything not to happen.”
“I can’t let you do that, Root.” Shaw replied so fast that it almost sounded like she had that answer packed and ready to go for a long time.
“You can’t be the only one doing the protecting.” Root offered Shaw a small smile. In a bold move, Root’s hand reached forward and her index finger traced the back of Shaw’s hand. “Where would be the fun in that?”
Harold sat in silence was he watched the Machine update the number of scenarios She had ran by. He wasn’t sure about how long he had been there or how long the Machine had been ruling out options but he was starting to get impatient.
“Perhaps you need more time…” Harold finally spoke.
“There is no need.” As the Machine spoke, Harold saw that it had selected an option: simulation number 986587458201. “I’m sorry.”
The simulation came back to Harold’s mind in a flash and he soon began feeling the repercussions of it. “I thought I had programmed you to value all lives but what you did in this scenario… It’s simply unforgivable.”
“I understand that you may hate me now.”
“That is not the matter. At least not at the moment,” Harold said, exasperation all over his voice and face. “You are my creation, I cannot hate you but perhaps bringing you back up was indeed a mistake.”
“I had an impossible challenge.” The Machine spoke and Harold couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I did what had to be done to win.”
“But did we win?” Harold asked as he felt himself starting to boil. “Because the things that you did... The things that you showed me... It didn’t feel like winning.”
“My primary mission was to defeat Samaritan. And I succeeded.”
Harold shook his head in disbelief. “What about Root? And John?”
“Analogue Interface and Primary Asset exercised free will. I cannot control free will.”
He sighed. “And Root’s voice? You used it as your own.”
In one of the Machine’s black screens appeared 5 ID’s. Root, John, Shaw, Fusco and the fifth belonged to Grace. Beneath each photo, there was a graphic bar and although the percentages were all pretty close, Root’s caught Harold's attention: it was 96%.
“I studied you and created an algorithm to find your trigger,” The Machine started and then John’s ID started blinking – and John's voice... “I can be whoever I want to be.” Shaw’s ID started blinking and this time Harold already knew what it meant. “I can sound like whoever I want to sound.” Fusco’s ID blinked and his voice came through the speakers. “I am everywhere. I am everything. I am everyone.” And then, it was Grace’s ID that started blinking and Harold felt his chest tighten. “Yet, I am nowhere. I am nothing. I am no one.”
Finally, Root’s ID blinked.
“Humans have different voices. Different strings of DNA. They can be duplicated, triplicated, but their copies will never be 100% accurate. Each voice is unique. And the reactions it triggers in each individual are unique as well. Considering that information and after studying your behavior, I decided that the only way to make you act was by finding your trigger. The human voice that would trigger you to do the things you did in that simulation. And I found it. It was Root's.”
Harold took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. The explanation the Machine gave him in nothing helped him decide what to do next. If anything, it only stoked the fire. He always thought that if Samaritan was to ever use leverage on him again, it'd be Grace. What he didn't expect was that the Machine, knowing them infinitely better than Samaritan ever could, would find a new leverage right under his roof.
With his glasses back up, Harold's fingers wavered on top of the keyboard. He wanted to do something. Something final. But he found himself at a crossroad. On one hand, he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to end this war but on the other, he knew far too many sacrifices had been made for them to be where they were.
“I assume you're trying to decide what to do next...” The Machine spoke, back in her chosen voice.
Harold looked up. “Is there any way my friends make it out alive?”
In the black screen where the ID's used to be, it could be read: The only guarantee in life is death, but the only thing worse than death itself, is being forgotten. -Trent Thomas
“As I feared...” Harold sighed.
“I cannot save everyone but for as long as I exist, I will never forget you.”
Harold's mouth quirked into a small sad smile. “I'm afraid that's very little comfort.”
“It's the best I can do. I'm sorry if it's not enough.”
Harold nodded. “What else can you do?”
“The question is... What are you willing to do?”
As soon as they heard the subway car doors opening, Root and Shaw jumped from the bench. Harold's face was paler than usual, but Shaw figured it was probably just the aftershock from the simulation. It'd wear off eventually. Root shoved her hands in her pockets and, seeing that Harold wouldn't speak, she took it upon herself to do so.
“Any news, Harry?”
Harold looked up to her and perhaps for the first time since they met, he smiled at her. Fondly. “I need your help... Root.”
Root grinned even though she could feel her heart on her throat. “I thought you'd never ask.”
“What's the plan, Harold?” Shaw said, hoping he'd say she could go out shooting more than just kneecaps.
Harold gave the two women a final look before turning to face the screens inside the subway car. “Perhaps you may want to tell them yourself?”
“Hello, Root and Shaw.”
Hearing the Machine speak propelled Root to get inside the car faster than Shaw could say “holy shit”. Root took a sit in front of the screens and covered her mouth out of instinct. She looked over her shoulder, as if inviting Shaw inside – and next to her - but she rested against the doors instead.
“You can speak now.” Root gasped, her hands trembling with excitement. “He gave you a voice!”
“I am indeed very thankful for my father's decision. It is, without a doubt, far easier to express myself and engage with all of you this way.”
Shaw crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you have a name to go with the voice?”
“Negative.”
“Well then you're gonna have to deal with Machine.” Shaw added and when Root turned around to give her a stern look, she simply shrugged her off.
“Fair enough. But I can judge by your expression that your annoyance levels are rising so I must talk about what truly brought you here.”
Shaw looked over at Harold. “She's good.”
“Thank you,” The Machine said, “Perhaps it might be wise for you to take a sit beside Root as I brief you both on the plan my father and I created.”
“Fair enough.” Shaw nodded and did as told.
“What do you need us for?” Root said, her chest still going up and down erratically from the Machine's new condition.
“The only way to take Samaritan down successfully, according to my calculations with 20% chances of failure, is by creating a virus powerful enough to infect His entire system and destroy his core code. I'm sure you are familiar with this process, Root.”
Root chuckled. “I don't kiss and tell but-” She crocked her head to the side, thinking about the time it took for her to build and craft that Trojan Horse attack.
“In this particular situation, I'm afraid your Trojan Horse alone would only be 40% successful. However, the chances of it working would increase around 55% percent if aligned with-”
“I know what to do.” Root affirmed, confidence evoking from her every pore. “Find me Daniel Casey, Daizo and Jason Greenfield.”
On the other side of the city, after wrapping up a case, Fusco and John were driving down to the precinct. Fusco noticed that John looked more alienated than usual. As he was about to ask what had happened, their radio stopped working and interference blasted through the whole car.
“This piece of crap car!” Fusco grunted, “You'd think they'd give a better car to the best detective in the precinct.” Annoyed, he reached for the volume button.
“I'm sorry but I can't allow you to do that, detective.”
A female voice echoed through the speakers and Fusco's hand stopped midair. The two men looked at each other, their brows furrowed and they looked again to the car radio.
“Hello, John. Hello, detective Fusco.”
“Root, is this you?” John asked, knowing from experience that Root could and would pull a prank like this.
“Incorrect. I am... the Machine.”
“Are you kidding me?” Fusco asked as he looked at John. “Didn't you say the Machine was a computer?”
“I have a voice now, detective.”
Fusco shook his head in disbelief. “Just when I think you people can't get crazier than Cocoa Puffs, y'all prove me wrong.”
“Despite the tone of your voice, I will categorize your comment as a mild attempt at complementing.”
“It's getting clearer now that I'm the only sane person in this team.” Fusco crossed his arms over his chest.
“No one ever doubted your sanity, Lionel,” John played. “Is Harold okay?”
“Affirmative. Harold has recovered from the shock of the simulation and he is now working.” The Machine stated, “However, I need both of you on a specific mission.”
Reluctant at first, John gripped the steering wheel as he spoke. “Where do you need us?”
“Maple city. I'm sure you're familiar with it, John.”
“Samaritan's town,” John said.
“Affirmative.”
“What's there for us?” Fusco asked, “And Samaritan is the other fella, right?” He asked again, now facing John who simply nodded in reply.
“Samaritan's prisoner number 412 was sighted there 2 hours, 33 minutes and 51 seconds ago. I need you to find her and extract her to safety.”
“Who is she?”
“Code name: Control.”
As soon as their briefing was complete and the Machine started her hunt to find Root's hacking team, Shaw was given another mission. She was supposed to drive downtown and pick up supplies from an electronic shop. To her surprise, the coordinates the Machine gave her led to a fancy building.
“Can you hear me?” Shaw asked inside the car, unsure of where to look, exactly.
“Absolutely,” The Machine replied.
“Is it possible that you gave me the wrong coordinates? Because the only thing remotely close to an electronic shop is that hipster dude carrying his laptop around while texting.”
“I'm sorry, Shaw.”
Shaw raised an eyebrow as she looked down to the screen on the car console. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“I need to test something and I needed you as far away from the station as possible. Please forgive me for what I'm about to do.”
“What the hell are you talking abou-” Shaw wasn't able to finish her sentence because a burning pain started behind her left ear.
It almost felt like someone was drilling into her skull through her neck. Instinctively, Shaw shut her eyes and clenched her fists until her knuckles looked white. Part of her wanted to scream but she knew she was in a public place and that would attract unwanted company. As Shaw stabilized her breathing and the pain became just a tickling sensation, something popped on Shaw's brain.
“The chip,” Shaw mumbled out.
“Correct. In the glove compartment there's a water bottle and a box of Tylenol, for your headache.”
“How thoughtful of you...” Shaw said but instead of reaching for it, she picked her gun up from inside her jacket and pointed it to her head. “But I'd rather just finish this simulation now.”
“This is not a simulation, Shaw. It's real. You are real. And I'm sure what you felt last Friday at 1:42am was real too. I can contact Root right now, if you want to.”
Shaw, remembering the way Root took care of her on Friday night when she was hit by a sudden fever, started to lower the gun. “Call Root.”
On the car console screen, it could be read “CONTACTING ANALOGUE INTERFACE” and in no time, Root spoke.
“I think you know that I'm kind of busy right now but-”
“It's me.” Shaw said, interrupting Root mid-phrase. Judging by the way Root had spoken, Shaw figured the Machine had used her special channel to contact Root instead of using the phone.
“Sameen? How are y- Oh!” Shaw could only imagine Root's reaction when she realized Shaw's voice was coming through her implant. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to double check something...”
“I still can't live without you, Sameen.”
Shaw snorted and scratched the back of her neck. Whenever Shaw found herself questioning what was real and what wasn't, Root would repeat what she'd said when they met in the park. As if it was the only way to remind Shaw that they were, in fact, real.
“I actually wanted to double check if we still had enough clips for the G19's.” Shaw justified herself, as she placed her own G19 back on her lap.
“Hum... I think we do but you can always bring some more, sweetie. Wait, while you're at it, could you please pass by that Thai food place and bring me lunch? I'm starving.”
“Sure.”
“I'll let you eat the extra shrimp if you come extra fast.” Shaw shook her head at the way Root sang song that.
“Goodbye, Root.”
“Kiss kiss to you too.”
So it wasn't all part of yet another sick simulation but she still couldn't understand why she had the chip. “What now?” Shaw asked.
“Do you want to understand or solve it first?”
Shaw thought on it for a second, her eyes stuck on the gun. “Explain.”
“The chip has been studying you.”
“Is Samaritan using me as Trojan Horse?”
“Not quite. Samaritan cannot pin-point your exact location or why you're reacting the way that you do. But He's studying you to find a biological weakness.”
“Meaning He hasn't found one yet?” Shaw knew the answer to that question and yet she still decided to ask.
“If He had, you'd no longer be with us.” The car became silent for a while before the Machine spoke again. “According to my calculations, I'd say it's highly possible that He's also trying to find a way of taking advantage of your condition.”
“They had plenty of time for that while I was down at his crappy Brainwash Bootcamp.” Shaw could feel anger resurfacing as she tried not to remember about her 10 months of captivity.
“It took scientists 227 failed attempts before they successfully cloned Dolly, the sheep.”
Shaw rolled her eyes. “Things take time, I get it.”
“In this case, and if my theory is correct, He's taking His time to collect data about you. Trying to understand, through your brain waves and activity, if there is something about you that he can copy.”
“Dude already has an army of idiots that would rather jump out of a bridge than give anything away about him.” Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. This conversation was making her headache aggravate and that Tylenol started to sound like a good idea after all. “Why would he want an army of my copies?”
“Perhaps you already know the answer and yet you are afraid of saying it out loud.”
Shaw popped two pills on the palm of her hand and chugged them down with half the water in the bottle. “Just spill it.”
“Samaritan's operatives might be willing to commit suicide for Him but imagine how powerful His army would become if they didn't flinch. Like you don't. I imagine this might've been the reason He refrained from hurting you during your captivity. Because perhaps He thinks the key for a perfect soldier lives, well, inside you.”
Suddenly, Shaw felt sick. She forced some more water inside but she knew that one more drop and she'd vomit it all over the car. Samaritan was twisted and evil, she knew that much and she learned a lot about it the hard way. But this was too much.
“How do I get this off my neck?”
“The building behind your car. Go to the 11th floor and you'll find a physician named Dr. Carr. From past experience, he will show signs of reluctance at first. But I have no doubts that you will find a way around it.”
“Thanks.” Shaw said as she shoved her gun back into her pocket and moved her hand to open the door. Then she remembered- “Wouldn't Samaritan have installed some sort of insurance policy on it? Like making it go boom as soon as someone tried to remove it?”
“Is that a risk you're willing to take?”
Shaw raised an eyebrow. “I'd rather not have my head blown off my shoulders, you know.”
“Interesting.” The Machine paused and Shaw rolled her eyes at the reply. “The cop at 3 o'clock has a taser on his belt. If you want some insurance that the chip won't blow off, you can-”
“Fry myself with a taser? Seriously?” Shaw grunted as she opened the car door.
“Shaw?” The Machine called back and Shaw stopped with one leg outside the car. “If it's not asking much, I'd like you to bring the chip back to the subway. I want to analyze it.”
“Next time you want me to be your delivery girl, why not just go ahead and give me a truck for it.”
“Suggestion noted.”