Back on the Coney Island boardwalk, I find Mr. Robot sitting on a railing, watching the ocean. With a deep breath, I approach him.
"Sit," he commands.
I climb over the railing. "I know how to take out the backups without blowing up the pipeline."
"Really, Elliot," he sighs. "I really felt like we resolved this. Didn't you walk away?"
"I did," I reply. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should have stayed with Tara. Did I pass up an opportunity to connect? What do you think?
"Didn't I say that if you walked away, you were no longer a part of this?"
"I have a real plan," I insist. I had to try to save these people. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to tell me about your dad," he answers.
I laugh at him. "You're not getting in my head, man. That shit's not gonna work."
"Tell me how he died," Mr. Robot demands.
"Why man?" What is he playing at. "Something tells me you already looked that shit up anyway."
"I want to hear it from you."
"I do this, we go back to the arcade, discuss the plan with the rest of them?" I ask and he doesn't answer. He's using his silence to get me to speak. I should know better than to fall into a trap like that. I light a cigarette to release some of my tension. "We were very close. He was my best friend. Worked at Evil Corp his whole life, one of the best computer engineers they had. Out of the blue, he got fired and no one knew why. One day he told me he had leukemia, made me swear not to tell anyone, especially my mom." Leukemia, that's what had killed Tyler. "I don't, but a few months go by and he gets sicker and sicker. Finally I got so worried I told my mom. He found out, got pissed, started yelling. I tried to hug him and tell him I was sorry. Kept shoving me away. Shoved me so hard I fell backwards out of the window. I fell and broke my arm. Never spoke to me after that. Couldn't even look at me, even the night he died." I exhale with a deep sigh. I never told Ange or Tara that story. "We good?"
He puts a hand on my shoulder and rubs my back. It's weird, but I don't pull away, I'm too emotionally exhausted. "I understand what it's like to lose a parent," he tells me. "It's heartbreaking. Ever think he was right?"
"About what?"
"Hurting you that way for what you did to him. Ever think you deserve it?" he elaborates.
That caught me off my guard. Why the fuck would he even ask that? "I never did anything to him! I was trying to help him!"
"Betraying his trust," Mr. Robot shrugs as though it was obvious.
"I was eight years old," I try explaining, but I'm falling. Then there's nothing.
