He looks up to catch David watching him, a soft smile on his face, golden-cast in the warm light that’s suddenly filling the office, dust motes wheeling a scintillating symphony around him, and Patrick can’t help but let slip a kind of hushed, reverent, what are you?
In the space of a second, the room is back to normal. Almost as if he’d dreamed it. David cocks his head, puzzled, evidently considering the question. “Hungry,” he decides.
AU. One fateful night, Patrick meets a boy who’s literally out of this world. Unfortunately, winning David Rose’s heart involves entirely too much paperwork – but the pen is mightier than the sword, and by god does Patrick know how to use it. (Written as a solo fic entry for @open-fic-night 2019!)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Schitt’s Creek | David/Patrick | T | 27k
“Fine, then, I don’t know, David,” Alexis mutters exasperatedly, throwing her hands up briefly before going back to her laptop. “Why don’t you just like, ask the business fairy, or whatever.”
“Oh my god, of course, I don’t know why I didn’t just do that in the first place,” David replies, sarcastically. He clasps his hands together, casting his eyes to the heavens – or, in this case, the water-stained café roof. “Mm, let’s see – dear business fairy, please come and fix my incorporation documents so this empty store I’ve leased isn’t another great Rose family failure, thanks so much.”
Urban fantasy AU. Some people bring in consultants to help get their new business off the ground. David Rose, entirely by accident (or so he claims) gets a fairy. (Written for @sassafrasx for @open-fic-night II, 2019!)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Time moves like this, in fits and starts – there’s that scene from, one of those sci-fi movies: someone puts two dots on a piece of paper and then folds them together, punching a pencil through. There’s her kitchen on one side and her kitchen on the other, and Angela’s punched through from one moment to the next, air hazed sweet-sharp with smoke, softening the light.
A fragment of time, as Angela hosts Ladies’ Night, pertaining to exactly this: they are ladies, and it is night. Written as part of Femslash Feb ‘19.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Irving squints down at his hand. “Uh, grattis på födelsedagen.”
Today’s the eleventh, then – he’d nearly forgotten. Unfortunately, it seems Irving hadn’t. “That was… almost Swedish,” Tyrell says dully, turning back to his computer.
“The big three-three, huh?” Irving continues, as though it actually means something. “Wouldn’t have had you pegged as a Cancer. You’ve always struck me as more of a, ah, Gemini kinda guy.”
Tyrell has a birthday up at the cabin; Irving tries to make the best of it. Part of a series I’m dubbing ‘cabin fever’ that began with deconstruction, or, the art of repair, featuring cake and crying, as the best birthdays tend to involve. Spoilers up and until Mr. Robot S03E03.
there’s no place like 127.0.0.1 commentary part I: ‘looking back’
Hey gang! Here’s part one of my commentary on my Angela & Robot fic there's no place like 127.0.0.1, a.k.a. A Weekend At Angela’s, a.k.a. Mr. Robot’s Day(s) Off. This will contain spoilers through Season 3 of Mr. Robot.
To start off, the title of the fic itself I got from a fun piece of set dressing in 3x05:
...which (and I'm probably stating the obvious here, but either way) is a play on 'there's no place like home' from the Wizard of Oz, as 127.0.0.1 is the 'localhost' of any given machine.
“Dolores… Haze?” she says, frowning [...]
I believe this is the codename Elliot would have Darlene stored under on his phone, since it’s a handle she’s used in other areas -- recently, as the name of the network she and Elliot used in the arcade during 3x09:
Somehow, he both feels like he’s been hit over the head with a truck, yet at the same time had the best sleep he’s ever experienced in the scattering of days where he’s been the one in charge. The sleeping pills on the side table aren’t a name he recognizes, and the instructional lettering is all in Chinese, but holy balls did they knock him the fuck out. Seems Angela wasn’t kidding when she said she was committed to keeping Elliot out at all costs.
I did a bunch of reading on DID and several people on the forums suggested sleeping pills as a method to prevent alters from switching over in one's sleep. Ambien and melatonin etc all seemed to also promote sleepwalking as a side effect, especially when combined with alcohol (and this is more relevant in part II), so I took artistic licence and made a fake drug that essentially knocks you out with zero (known) side effects, lol.
Residual self-image. Everyone has a face that only they can see, projected outwards into the mirror. A false idol of confidence, of ego, or a shell of dysmorphia and despair – either way, a lie repeated for so long it manifests into your own monster. Or maybe it’s something as little as a smaller nose or a slimmer waistline, look, ultimately, people like to reject reality and see what they want to see – for better or worse, ‘til death do us part, until every feature is stripped back and washed away, and that face in the mirror is just a skull the world has finally fucked. Technically, his own projection is long dead, but reanimated for a greater purpose – a divine one, even, according to Tyrell and his whole wackjob microreligion thing he’s got going on.
Residual self-image is indeed a term from The Matrix, which Morpheus describes as the 'mental projection of your digital self'. Here, it's a literal way that Robot describes how he and other people see themselves, even if in reality it can be very different. The major theme of this fic was perception versus reality, in that both Robot and Angela are focussed so narrowly on their specific ideal outcomes of Stage 2 that they omit or ignore any signs that the plan will not go exactly their way. This is the first area where I start to address that, and basically continue to hold up a sign in big black lettering that goes HEY ISN'T THIS IRONIC THAT THEY'RE SAYING THIS GIVEN WHAT WE KNOW NOW for the rest of the fic.
Still, he only gets wrapped up in this metaphysical bullshit when he’s in the driver’s seat for an extended period of time, because situations tend to arise that take him on a stroll through Uncanny Valley. For example: he showers and then shaves, but no stubble leaves his jawline. He changes into fresh clothes that Angela has left him, but the label on his jacket still proudly proclaims Mr. Robot: Computer Repair with a Smile! (still not his name, no matter how much Elliot tries to pin it to him). Sometimes he can squint through the mirror, rearrange his focus a little bit, and see this analogue of Elliot staring back at him – eyes half-lidded, the pinched anxiety on his face smoothed out. This is what they all see, which really is a poor substitute for the damn good-looking guy he’s facing off with in the bathroom vanity this morning.
Like, I've always wondered about this. Elliot is always clean-shaven after Robot's been in control for longer stretches of time, so Robot must shave, but we know he always has stubble -- how does any of this work, really? Is the fact that we see Robot's face in the mirror just a product of Elliot's overarching control over what is depicted in the show, and Robot actually sees 'Elliot's face? Who the heck knows, Sam sure as hell probably isn't going to explain it, so I'm sticking to this interpretation for now. And, also, no, Robot's never actually referred to himself as Mr. Robot in the show, going so far as to laugh at the idea of Elliot calling him that name when Krista brings it up in 3x02, which is why I have him rejecting it in here.
He tries watching TV, for a bit, but nothing particularly engaging is on basic cable on a Saturday morning – crappy cartoons (they really don’t make them like they used to), some more bullshit presidential candidate Donald Trump (seriously. This, if anything, is why Stage Two is an absolute fucking necessity to get the world back on track) has regurgitated about taxes or something is being picked apart by no less than twelve ‘experts’ on CNN, and the hysteria continues on four other channels. Only one news channel is actually covering the upcoming UN vote, which is quintessential Americocentrism - like, holy shit, the UN is going to sell a fucking country to China, and all people give a shit about is some failed reality star who can't, apparently, do math beyond a grade-school level. The next channel he tries is airing a repeat episode of Teen Mom, which is about the point where he gives up and switches it off, tossing the remote somewhere down the couch.
I don't know what was on US basic cable on that September weekend in 2015, and neither do you, probably. I do know that, around this time, Trump unveiled his tax policy at a press conference. It wasn't on a Friday/Saturday, but then again, September 29th wasn't actually a Monday, so whatever, I'll take some wiggle room on that.
[...] Darlene doesn’t know about the arrangement between Angela and himself, all he needs is plausible deniability for the knock – sleeping pills on the side table, that’s it, that’s the play, if he bunks down on the couch she’ll believe he was so far under he didn’t hear any of it. Wake up, fidget a bit, Elliot-style – keep it vague, let her fill in the blanks—
I would've loved to have seen the Robot v Darlene route, where Robot plays as Elliot and finds out about Elliot's plan to have him followed, and how things might have played out differently from there, but, that would then diverge from the canon series of events I was trying to keep within. I guess we'll never know!
“I know, that’s why I set up a contingency, give me some fucking credit here,” he argues. “It’s a little self-destructive sequence, a ransomware mimic – forget to key the password into the dialog box that pops up every five minutes and you’ll get locked out, and all the files on this laptop will self-encrypt. Only I have the keys, so even if – if – he manages to resurface, he wouldn’t get far.”
I'm sure this is wildly inaccurate, since I know pretty much nothing about programming, lol. We can't all be Elliot, okay!!!
“Is it possible for you to not be an asshole for like, five minutes?” Angela mutters. “Fine. I’ll—wait, hold on.” She brings up the Netflix home page, typing [email protected] into the email field. “Let’s see if he – nope, hasn’t changed it. Why am I not surprised.”
“This is your ex-boyfriend’s account,” he clarifies. Angela hums the affirmative as she scrolls through his recommended titles – fucking hell, there’s at least three different Adam Sandler flicks alone. “Well, good to know he’s still a fucking moron. You sure dodged a bullet there. Or,” he pivots, reconsidering the context, “I suppose, given how that all played out, got that bullet lodged in you removed before it was too late.”
Fuck Ollie, this is the least of what you deserve, you dickwagon. I had a further scene that I ended up cutting because it dragged down the pacing, where Robot convinced Angela to let him 'hijack' Ollie's Netflix account by changing the email address and password and then getting into his email account to verify the change and delete the notification emails. Anyway, he's probably suffering in the post-5/9 economy, so, suck it dude.
He wrinkles his nose. “Oh, that guy’s in this?”
“Who, Christian Slater?” Angela says, looking up over her phone as the monologue continues. She finishes her text and slides it back onto the coffee table. “Not a fan?”
“Of his works? No, I like them well enough, Heathers is great,” he says, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air. “There’s just something about his face that makes me hate him. You know, when you look at a guy, and he has a face that’s just asking for a fist? This guy. He always looks so smug.” He points an accusatory finger at the TV. “What have you got to be so smug about, huh? Besides the fact that you’re probably jerking off to that fat royalty check in the mail every month. I mean, we all know that’s what all the Hollywood schmucks are doing, tugging it to their stacks of cash, but you don’t have to wear it right there on your face so I’m reminded of the fact every time I see it. And it doesn’t help that he spends half the movie miming the act, it just makes it so stupidly meta, Christ, I need to build a fourth wall in my brain and kick over a bucket of bleach – also, by the way, what the fuck, I can’t believe you actually watched this as a child, you—”
This was probably the most self-indulgent thing I got to write. I love that Christian Slater exists in Robotverse, so that I can exercise the 'character played by actor, who also played a character in another thing, thinks this character sucks/is ugly' trope. If you missed it, here's Pump Up The Volume on VHS in Angela's childhood home in 3x06:
She’s silent, for a moment, and the movie plays on. “It helped, in a way. With my mom. There’s a line, that’s always stuck with me – ‘the terrible secret is that being young is sometimes less fun than being dead.’ See, they don’t approach death in a way that’s nice, and polite, and full of platitudes – it’s angry, and messy, and it’s okay to want to just—” She suddenly leans over to the laptop, clicking forwards a few times.
“I’m sick of being ashamed. I don't mind being dejected and rejected, but I'm not going to be ashamed about it.” She mouths along with him. “I mean, you look around, and you see nothing is real, but at least the pain is real. You know, even this show isn’t real? It’s just me, I’m using a voice disguiser, I’m a phony fuck just like my dad, just like anybody—”
If you haven't seen the movie, basically Slater's character is reacting to the news of a teen committing suicide, after they had stated the intention to do so on his show - you can watch this scene here. This is, of course, not a movie a young child should watch, but Angela has always talked about her anger regarding her mother's death, and I thought (aside from the self-indulgent aspect of Robot v Slater, lol) it would be interesting to explore how she might act out, a little, like kids sometimes do to cope with grief and pain, secretly watch a Movie Definitely Not For Kids, and within it find a helpful way to release the anger she bottled up. (Also -- she would've loved the lizard. What a cute little friend.)
Somehow, they keep this train chugging along until well into the night. His pick is next – he chooses Snakes On A Plane, just to fuck with her a bit, but it turns out she just loves snakes, because of course she does, so that backfired somewhat, aside from the fact that Snakes On A Plane is actually pretty fun if you really embrace the hammy acting and ridiculous plot. Angela parries, picking a recent release called Jupiter Ascending, a large proportion of which he spends loudly trying to work out at what point in time since The Matrix Trilogy were the Wachowskis secretly killed and replaced by doppelgänger hacks, as Angela sips her appletini and coos over werewolf-angel(?)-in-rollerskates Channing Tatum. He then counters with Sharknado 3, which is definitely a mistake, and then they have to both suffer through all excruciating ninety-five minutes of it because neither of them are willing to budge on their unspoken cinematic war. A victory for him, maybe, but a Pyrrhic one nonetheless.
Angela does canonically love snakes, so this wasn't intended to be a jab at her manipulation of Elliot this season, but, of course, interpret at as you will. This great piece of characterisation is from the Red Wheelbarrow tie-in book for Season 2 (which is an awesome read, definitely recommend):
Second, the 'cinematic war' is totally one-sided. In my mind, Angela actually enjoyed all the films they watched, while Robot basically fucked himself, lol. Look, Jupiter Ascending is a wonderful, whimsical film, that should be taken at face value for the work of art that it is. Space paperwork! Bee princesses! Eddie Redmayne whisper-screaming as he tries to marry his mother! It's an absolute cinematic treasure. I can't say the same for Sharknado 3, but, well, all in good fun.
“First off, the entire concept of monogamy is bullshit,” he replies, and yes, he is going to actually give her a serious answer. “It’s an archaic evolutionary tactic to boost survival rates among Neanderthals that has no place being the gold standard in 2015, in the same way that we don’t kill a mammoth and spend the rest of the year eating hairy elephant ass for every meal — newsflash, supermarkets exist now, there are like fifty different varieties of beans, literally just beans, so it makes zero sense to pledge your undying commitment to a can of Spam, I mean, shit, even if it’s something you actually enjoy, you’d get absolutely sick and tired of eating it and nothing else until you keel over and die. So, on that note, it’s pretty obvious why most of our parents spend the rest of their lives fucking hating each other if they’re not a part of the fifty percent who cut ties before it’s too late, because, yes, alongside the great lie of the picture perfect nuclear family, the modern factory-line industry of marriage is just a capitalist cash cow where everybody thinks they’re getting milk, but in reality? That sure ain’t a teat they’re sucking on.”
This also comes back to the Red Wheelbarrow tie-in book, and specifically, to this scene in it, where Robot rants to Leon about monogamy in the context of Mad About You:
This is probably my favourite scene from the book -- I love the idea of Leon and Robot having long-winded debates on media, and it's a pity we'll never get to see that acted out, lol.
“Wow,” Angela replies, leaning back, one hand against her heart. “Wow. You’re such a dick. How can you kill Josh Groban?”
“Breaking news! What a scoop. Angela Moss, come and claim your Pulitzer,” he says. “And, to answer your question: very easily. Groban is clearly the least attractive of the three, and so by the metric of this game it condemns him to death.”
“The correct answer,” she says firmly, barreling over him as if he’d never spoken, “Is fuck Ryan, marry Josh, and, well, if I have to kill someone, I guess I have to kill Emma, but I’m sure she’s lovely. Actually, no, okay, if you get two fucks then I do to. Fuck Ryan, fuck Emma, marry Josh.”
I love Angela's love for Josh Groban nearly as much as getting to see Elliot in that 'Property of Josh Groban' sweater in 3x01. It's never been explicitly stated on the show, but my interpretation of Angela and Robot's sexualities is that they're both bi as fuck, so there you go.
“And, you know what? I don’t want to live in a world where everyone’s as cynical and jaded as you, old man. Because,” she hiccups, ending it in a giggle, “That’s what you sound like, you grumpy fuck, like you’re pushing eighty, not long until you start yelling at kids—” and at this, she cups her hands over her mouth, imitating a megaphone, “Get off my lawn, you capitalist piglets!”
“Okay,” he says, shaking his head, grinning in spite of himself as she yells out “you bourgeoisie microscum!” in a shitty imitation of an elderly man [...]
This is my favourite piece of dialogue in this entire thing. 'Bourgeoisie microscum' fucking kills me every time I read it. Originally I also had 'pushing fifty' as a sly wink at Christian Slater's real age, but no middle aged man has quite the curmudgeonly attitude to pull off 'bourgeoisie microscum'.
That's it for part one, folks! Thanks for reading, if indeed you still are. Click here for part II :D
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Seriously? ‘Can I find a decent torrent’?” he repeats, indignant. “Sure, can Stephen Hawking teach a fifth grade science class? Shall I take my Ferrari down to pick up the kids from soccer practice? This is degrading. You confiscate my laptop, have me sit on my ass for the rest of the weekend twiddling my thumbs instead of working on Stage Two, and now you’re graciously permitting me computer access so I can type four words into a search bar on The Pirate Bay.”
Between s3e04-05, Mr. Robot lies low at Angela’s for a long weekend. This is probably (not) how it went down, but it is a canon-compliant story combining cracky elements and introspective character bullshit, about negotiating a tentative friendship through finding ways to pass the time shut away in an apartment for three days, and aided generously by alcohol, pancakes and coffee. Spoilers through Mr. Robot S3.
there’s no place like 127.0.0.1 commentary part II: ‘keeping up’
Welcome to part two of the commentary for my fic there's no place like 127.0.0.1! Let's dive right into Sunday morning. As before, here there be spoilers for the majority of Season 3.
“[...] And, for your information, the internet exists. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but you can find anything on there. Literally anything. Including a Keeping Up With The Kardashians fact-checker resource.”
Keeping up with the Kontinuity Errors is a blog, currently run on the Cut, that breaks down episodes of KUWTK scene by scene, using social media and paparazzi photos to determine when each scene was actually filmed versus the date/timeframe that is claimed on the show. Here is the post on the first episode Robot and Angela watched, wherein the Kardashian-West clan et al travel to Armenia and also may or may not be in Jerusalem at any given time. I didn’t choose particular episodes for rounds two and three, but I do have a fondness for the one where Kim loses her diamond earrings in the ocean, and Kourtney goes:
“How about, the loser gets to do the dishes from last night. And this morning.”
I actually wrote this section before 3x09 came out, so this ended up being a sad piece of foreshadowing.
:(
“That’s the cholesterol,” she retorts, as she marks out new columns into her notebook. “Your diet is terrible.”
“No, Elliot’s diet is terrible,” he says, licking maple syrup off of his fingers and setting his score sheet up on his knee. It still gets a little sticky, but whatever. “I don’t get much choice in that matter. Occasionally, when I get the chance, I eat a vegetable.”
Literally how is Elliot a functioning human being. Robot brings this up in Part I, but that post was getting full, so I'm putting the discussion here, and, look. Everything about his lifestyle, his love for junk food and the fact that he probably gets 0 sleep now given Robot’s nocturnal cycle points to him being deeply, incredibly unhealthy. Having Robot making some effort to take care of their body, even as a semi-joke, is my way of somewhat justifying how Elliot is still alive, lol.
“[...] vaguely considers beating one out – because it’s been a while, and Tyrell’s snarl under the press of his hand at his throat is still tucked away in his spank bank, awaiting withdrawal [...]”
I feel like 3x09 proved unequivocally that Robot is absolutely into playing rough.
[source: @knownoshamc, x]
“[...] I bought a few titles that looked interesting. And a few things just to mess with him - did you know there’s a game where you can date pigeons? Like, actual birds. It’s apparently very popular.”
Yes, of course I’m referring to the masterpiece of visual media and storytelling that is Hatoful Boyfriend.
He stares at her, breathing heavily, and thinks about picking up his laptop and smashing it against the smooth surface of the coffee table, watching it splinter and crack, then taking her MacBook and sending it flying across the room, shattering the glass of a window, compromising the integrity of the perfect little box she’s living in, the one she’s caged him inside. He visualizes it, until he can feel the weight of the laptop in his hands, sees in the reflection of her eyes – big, blue, steady and unwavering – how the arc of destruction plays out, walls crumbling around them, fragments spinning out in slow motion, catching the light.
Elliot and Robot are highly creative, and are shown to manipulate the world around them to fit their perspective - in that vein, from Robot’s point of view, that scene would play out similarly to Cobb and Ariadne’s first dreamsharing experience in Inception.
Then he sits down next to her.
I separated this line from the preceding paragraph because this, for me, was the biggest character moment for Robot in the fic -- rather than doing what he wants, and releasing his rage, being his usual rash and destructive self, he chooses not to, and essentially releases his anger like air slowly leaving a balloon (minus the squeaking, lol). He tried to bait Angela, to get under her skin, after she made an astute judgement about him and exposed a major vulnerability of his, but she was unwavering, meeting him eye to eye. I think this point was when he gave into trusting her, knowing that she knows his weakness -- his deeply complicated, protective, antagonistic relationship with Elliot, the fact that he doesn’t want to face that he misses him -- and allowing her to keep that secret for him.
Completing Portal 2 in co-op mode ends up taking the rest of the afternoon, only pausing for snacks – and Angela takes his blithe comment on Elliot’s nutrition seriously, because of course she fucking does, and prepares shit like carrot sticks and celery with hummus which are both incredibly bland and deeply unsatisfying, so in retaliation he spends an inordinate amount of time dicking around with the portal mechanics so her character keeps falling to its untimely end. But he quickly gets bored of that, and of Angela making empty threats to beat him over the head with her MacBook (yeah, like her noodle arms could ever manage it), and does end up working with her to beat the game. The entire concept is problem-solving and teamwork, which is genuinely engaging, even though it’s obvious Angela picked this as some kind of teambuilding exercise for the two of them — which, on paper, is annoying as hell, he’s not some fucking suit in an intern program. Still, she’s not a bad partner – they bounce off each other well, sometimes literally, and she’s the one to actually figure out the shoot-while-jumping sequence needed to get through the penultimate level. For some reason, though, her favorite characters, if you can even count them as characters, are the cubes. The cubes. She fucking loves those dumb, inanimate objects. GLaDOS would definitely take her ass in to test for whatever malfunctioning part of her cortex causes her to express affection for a cube.
Hey, look, it's a game where two characters work together to aid the agenda of an evil megalomanic who's actually manipulating them and ultimately wants them to die to serve her true purpose, while ignoring warning signs saying not to trust her. Sound familiar? ;) But yes, for those unfamiliar with the Portal series, here's a little article about the essence of the co-op game; the purpose was to directly parallel it with Robot and Angela's doomed plan under Whiterose's thumb. Totally check out the games, if you haven't already! The co-op is a lot of fun, and the penultimate level took my friend and I like an hour to figure out how to complete (whereas the last level? Total cakewalk, even if The Cake Is A Lie :P)
“And we will have to manage Darlene,” she continues, bringing several onions on a chopping board over to him. “I don’t know what her motives are in coming here to look for Elliot, but either way, we have to play it safe. I’m going to give you your phone back tomorrow and if she calls, you can answer it, but… tell her you wanted to go off the grid this weekend, or something, clear your head. You can use the fact that you’ll be at work to keep it short, just enough to keep her from looking in any further.” “That excuse won’t stretch too far – isn’t Elliot getting fired tomorrow?” he asks, peeling the skin off the first onion and starting to slice it up.
“Yes,” Angela says. “Mid-morning at the latest, but she wouldn’t know about that, so even if she wants to meet she’ll have to wait until the end of the day – if she presses for the lunch break, you can say you’ve made prior plans with me. [...] Okay, so, you’re just going to sit tight until security escorts you out, as we discussed, and don’t make a scene [...] Once you’re out, keep your distance from the data recovery center but stay in the area in case Irving and Tyrell need assistance with the execution, in which case I will contact you directly and escort you through any E-Corp facilities, since your card access will be revoked. Otherwise, go somewhere public, so that you have an alibi that can be corroborated by at least several witnesses concerning your whereabouts at the time the building comes down – but keep a low profile, get a Starbucks, or something. Make sure not to take your laptop out of your bag unless there’s an emergency, you don’t want anyone making assumptions about what you were doing during Stage Two once the dust clears and the feds look for someone to pin it on. And, if you need to call me, ring and let it dial once, hang up, and then immediately ring again. That way I’ll know it’s you calling, and not Elliot.”
We never got to really find out what Robot & Angela’s original plan was for that day, if Elliot hadn’t taken over for the events of 3x05-06. I assumed that, after Tyrell and Robot’s altercation in 3x04, the reins had been handed over to Tyrell and the Dark Army to execute, and Robot’s job was essentially support-if-needed, Angela still acting as his handler and liaising with Irving. This is my interpretation of what the OG plan might have been like -- at the beginning of 3x05, Angela encourages Elliot to pick up his phone as it rings, and then seemingly clicks that it’s no longer Robot, but still calls out to Elliot to grab lunch later. Later, she didn’t pick up her phone when Elliot called her, which I wondered about at the time since we weren’t given an indication as to whether she knew who was actually calling, and so this is my justification for that too.
“We’ll toss those in olive oil with the carrots and set them to roast in the oven for about twenty, and in a couple of minutes I’ll get started on the steaks [...]”
I made a few fun Matrix shoutouts in this fic, and this is another one -- Cypher eats a virtual steak dinner as he trades the crew on his ship to the Agents in exchange for insertion back into the matrix, rejecting his harsh reality for the comfort of an artificial world. The recipe I had in mind is something along the lines of this one.
His memories are a muddled patchwork, haphazard at best – the clearest ones he has are also the darkest, ones Elliot didn’t want to deal with, shoved into a box and couriered to his doorstep with DO NOT RETURN TO SENDER in big red lettering, his burden now to bear. It’s no sweat, he’s stronger than Elliot, anyhow, which is probably is the point – the nightmares of yesteryear don’t faze him much, especially now their bitch of a mother is slowly rotting away upstate.
3x07 heavily implied Robot had already emerged before Edward Alderson died, and was the alter in control when Edward collapsed at the cinema -- but, in Season One, Robot begged Elliot not to let people ‘try to get rid of [him]’ again, implying there were stretches of time in Elliot’s life when he wasn’t present. Mr. Robot’s timeline is muddled to hell thanks to Elliot’s unreliable narration anyway, but I figured that Robot’s memories would be somewhat similar to Elliot’s with more gaps in them, and more strongly feature the abuse exacted by their mother, per Robot’s role as a (deeply flawed) ‘protector’ to Elliot. Also, I’m not sure whether Magda Alderson is actually alive or dead, but ‘slowly rotting away’ can mean both physically rotting in a grave and just generally living a stagnant existence (in a nursing home, presumably), so that’s up to interpretation!
He’s not much one for wine, but this one’s pretty good – it’s apparently a 2008 Penfolds Grange, whatever the fuck that means, and they’ve made quick work of it as the evening has wound down.
The Penfolds Grange vintage 2008 Shiraz (South Australia) scored a rare 100 points in both The Wine Advocate and the Wine Spectator, two of the world’s most influential wine journals, when it was released in 2013, and I believe was initially priced at around $600-700. Price probably gave her this bottle, so it’s a good one to crack open when intending to destroy his company.
“I guess… I’m nervous, about seeing her again,” she murmurs. “It’s been so long, and so much has changed… it’s weird, because all I’ve felt up until this point is excitement, like, this is the whole reason I’m going through with all of this, to finally destroy E-Corp and create our new world, to share it with her – and yet, now we’re here, I’m not sure if I’m ready.”
Her whole deal with Whiterose is bordering on obsession, at this point. It’s somewhat disconcerting, but then again, he supposes that’s Angela – she’s just intense like that. “Look, Angela, don’t set your expectations too high on that one,” he cautions. “I don’t think either of us are going to see Whiterose again, at least, not in the immediate future. She’s not the type to just swing by to pop off some champagne for a job well done.”
Angela looks at him, frowning slightly, and then her expression clears. “Of course,” she says, finishing up her glass. “You’re right, Whiterose has more important things to do. Maybe we’ll just have to have our own celebration.”
“Maybe,” he replies, looking at her narrowly. He has an odd feeling that she wasn’t talking about Whiterose. But then, who else would it be? Darlene? No, that doesn’t quite add up.
I mean, look, at this point, it’s very obvious to we the audience that Angela is talking about seeing her mother again, and she then makes reference to Elliot believing in the #cause once he gets to see his father just before the brownout comes in. These scenes always made me feel sad to write.
The inset on the face says 29, and the hands glint at a little after six. Early, but not quite early enough to justify a little more shuteye.
In 3x05, Elliot says the Dark Army tried to execute Stage Two at 6am. Robot waking up with a start around the time the Dark Army try to attack but being completely unaware of it happening is the beginning of the end for his usurped revolution.
So that's it, for now. If you’re still here -- thanks for reading, friend! Hope you enjoyed this self indulgent spiel -- catch you on the flipside :P
