Unhackable (Elliot Alderson/Mr. Robot)

Chap.16)TR@mpST@mP.dpv

Chap song: "Carousal" by Melanie Martinez
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I couldn't understand what the hell happened in that motel room even a few days later. I stared at my computer screen, desperately hoping there would be some sort of drug whose symptoms provided split personalities.
That's what it  felt like. It was as though Elliot Alderson developed a split personality by the snap of fingers.
How does a quiet nice guy go to being an arrogant, loud, bastard?





Almost all of Sunday I dedicated to searching. There was probably well over a thousand ways I could dedicate my free time - namely looking for a new apartment now that my things were packed - but I couldn't bring myself to do anything besides searching online. Curiosity was killing me - Elliot was too strange that day. He most definitely wasn't himself.





It wasn't as though I could really ask anyone what his temperament is usually like. I can't ask anyone from Fsociety. I got rid of my cell phone to avoid further calls from Darlene or Mr. Robot. If I'm deemed useless by the latter, why continue playing their stupid game anyway?





I can't ask Angela Moss about Elliot's change of behavior - how would that conversation even go down? Hi, Angie.  I know I purposely go out of my way to ignore the fuck out of you, but do you notice anything strange about Elliot when he's strung out on drugs? Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, he's a junkie.



 
 There's no way she knows Elliot's an addict. Even if she did, she puts on a damn good show of pretending to be oblivious.
I sighed, checking my clock. It was eight at night, and this was still bugging me even five hours after I began searching. The only thing that could explain that drastic mood change was maybe Elliot took something a lot stronger than his usual Morphine. But it didn't matter what I researched, I couldn't find anything that really stood out and showed that split personas. I checked meth, heroin, ecstasy. Every one of those brought a whole slew of problems, some disgusting, but there was nothing about split personalities.
There was hallucinations, but should that really have brought Elliot to acting like another person entirely?




I bit my lip, wigging my booted foot on the floor a few times. After typing for a few seconds, I'm brought to a new list of searches for what I was looking for. 


 Dissociative identity disorder (DID), previously known as multiple personality disorder (MPD),[1] is a mental disorder on the dissociative spectrum characterized by the appearance of at least two distinct and relatively enduring identities or dissociated personality states that alternately control a person's behavior, accompanied by memory impairment for important information not explained by ordinary forgetfulness. These symptoms are not accounted for by substance abuse, seizures, other medical conditions, nor by imaginative play in children.[2] Diagnosis is often difficult as there is considerable comorbidity with other mental disorders. Malingering should be considered if there is possible financial or forensic gain, as well as factitious disorder if help-seeking behavior is prominent.

"No...." I trail off, re-reading. What were really the odds someone could have such a thing and I would come across them?
Besides that, Ecstasy showed that mild hallucinations come provided when taking. Pushing myself away from my laptop, I slam it shut. If I want to know what's going on, there's only one person I can get answers from.




____________________________________________





A trip across town, I still hadn't managed to shake off the idea that going to see Elliot was probably a stupid idea.
Five full minutes of knocking at his apartment, it was evident he either wasn't home, or was purposely not opening his door. I carefully pull a nice lock-pick set Chloe gifted me from my bag, only to  realize I couldn't use it. Someone next door entered out onto the hallway, obviously in a bid to see who was making all the noise by knocking.




"It's you." Shayla Nico says in her whimsical voice. She's dressed in jean shorts, flip flops, a floral blouse and a sort of ratty shawl covering her shoulders. "Whatcha doin' here?"






I hold back a couple smartass responses that were currently brewing in my skull. It was hard to put my finger down on why I disliked Shayla. I couldn't tell whether it was because she was Elliot's supplier, or that she was such a dumbass she didn't take my warning of leaving town seriously.   Gritting my teeth, I decide to  just answer a question with a question. "Where's Elliot?"





"How should I know?"






"Aren't you his girlfriend....?" I counter dryly, cocking an eyebrow.






"That doesn't mean I keep track of him at all hours of the day" Shayla shrugged in response.





She had a point. Still, my shoulders must've deflated somewhat for she then looked at me with a bit of sympathy. "Wanna come in?"







I cross my arms, peering into the open door leading into her place. "You're not hiding any Vera brothers in there, right?"








Shayla chuckled softly, giving a shake of her curly haired head. "Not that I know of."
That being said, she turns on her heel and goes inside her home.
With slight reluctance, I followed her into the apartment, but I keep my eyes open. To me, this entire building was now no different than the ghetto areas of the city. With sleazy individuals like the Vera's and their associates, it was a danger zone.




It was only after Shayla closed the door behind me that I felt somewhat uneasy. I was more than certain I'd could kill Shayla with my eyes closed and a hand behind my back, but it wasn't her that concerned me. She was raped by Vera. That means her ass is already wearing a flaming target on it.



"I see you didn't take my advice on leaving town." I shrug, strolling over to her couch before plopping down upon it.