[ He doesn't make the obvious joke about her sharing a name with Shaw. He doesn't ask about the little boy. Harold takes the picture carefully, with palpable respect, examining it before offering it back, not looking to hold onto it for long.
He thinks about Carver's reaction to their conversation about the death of a child, and he doesn't ask about that either. It feels too precarious to talk about the Machine, when he still thinks most people wouldn't understand -- no one here except Accelerator, maybe -- but he feels something resonate that is alike, a hollow sadness where there was a pure innocence that was cut short.
And he thinks about Nathan, and how he'd always been Harold's lifeline to other people, to society, and he thinks that him remaining in that role is the truest homage he can ever pay him. ]
I'll remember. [ A moment of answering silence, Harold not pushing the conversation to progress just yet. ]
... How do you remember her? If I may ask. I told you how I remember Nathan.
[ He means not in the literal sense of what are the memories, but how do you honor the memory itself. ]
no subject
He thinks about Carver's reaction to their conversation about the death of a child, and he doesn't ask about that either. It feels too precarious to talk about the Machine, when he still thinks most people wouldn't understand -- no one here except Accelerator, maybe -- but he feels something resonate that is alike, a hollow sadness where there was a pure innocence that was cut short.
And he thinks about Nathan, and how he'd always been Harold's lifeline to other people, to society, and he thinks that him remaining in that role is the truest homage he can ever pay him. ]
I'll remember. [ A moment of answering silence, Harold not pushing the conversation to progress just yet. ]
... How do you remember her? If I may ask. I told you how I remember Nathan.
[ He means not in the literal sense of what are the memories, but how do you honor the memory itself. ]