[ It's a different way of putting it, but Carver's perspective lines up nicely with Root's and the Machine's, both conversations Harold had shortly before their respective deaths. Maybe it's a cold comfort at times, but... it is a comfort. To think he will remember them, which meant so much to them.

He reaches out to take a mug and pick a tea bag, movements slow, thinking. ]

I used to resist personifying the Machine, but I've since given up. She's more human than some people I know, [ he says ruefully, meaning that deliberately, with all due care to the phrase. Then he catches himself, and it hurts. ]

... Or rather, she was. Honestly, I always hoped one day she'd name herself, but she never had that opportunity.