"New York, 2016." With how panicked he looks, it's probably best not to answer as glibly as she might otherwise. 'From the data on a server I can't find' is a little much for a newbie. She knows, she's made the mistake of talking about the clones too fast before.

Root forgets that not everyone is OK with the idea that down to their DNA, people are just code. Poorly-written, half-compounded, glitching out all over each other. But it gives her a sense of clarity and calm. Maybe she's crazy too.

"We're all from the past. Some further than others, but-- we're not glitches. Not the way the natives here want everyone to believe, anyway."