A bend in space-time (Season 3) - The Umbrella Academy

Chapter 3: Pearls of Lakota wisdom

Chronological markers: this scene fits in as a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, season 3, episode 1, around 26:34 (as the Hargreeves bicker about entering the Obsidian Hotel through the same revolving door), then around 35:52 (when they settle into their rooms).

Suggested soundtrack: Sherman Myers - Say you love me

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April 2 2019, 01:18 pm

Inside the revolving door on my left, I can hear the Hargreeves struggling to get unstuck. I've opted for the one on the right - on my own - which pretty much sums up my relationship with them. Impassively, I watch them almost pile on top of each other out of the turnstile, onto the doormat. And quietly, with my hands in my pockets, I join them under the high ceilings of the lobby.

As they rant at each other, the eyes of the few people present at this hour turn toward them, scrutinizing. The gaze of a couple in furs sipping cocktails behind tinted glasses, that of an old bellhop pushing a loaded cart. And that of a bearded man in a velvet jacket - resembling Hemingway - who immediately unfolds his newspaper near the coffee machines.

Nothing has changed at the Hotel Obsidian, as if time had not affected this place. The tall pillars of metal and glass emit a blue light that contrasts with the amber chandeliers. The carpet, azure with orange star patterns, the horseshoe-shaped console housing the telephone switchboard, the circular banquettes covered in yellow velvet, the dimly lit atmosphere. To the right, behind the concierge desk where a chubby little pug pants, a radio blares the vintage swing of Sherman Myers.

"Oh... Obsidian Hotel...", Klaus muses, barely back on his feet. "I missed you, you slutty old dame."
I could almost smile: he's definitely not holding a grudge.
"Absorb her. Absorb her into your bosom."

I shake my head, and - as he continues his tour guide routine, listing the historic roster of famous guests who once walked these halls - I lean against one of those surreal pillars, which almost adds a futuristic touch to this otherwise outdated interior design. My eyes wander over the lounge bar, discreetly tucked beneath a mezzanine that houses a small shopping gallery and a row of pool tables.

Just like in the past, the place gives me a strange feeling, one that returns to me so vividly that I stop listening to Klaus's blather. A sensation that's both enveloping and unsettling, a sublime suffocation. The impression of being outside The City, likely because the opaque windows don't allow any view of the avenue. Or perhaps because what happens in this place remains forever a secret? Paradoxically, I already feel safe, even though a strange, dark-skinned guy in an Australian light cavalry uniform is staring at me while smoking a long pipe.

"Come on."
Klaus pulls me from my thoughts, and my eyes land on Viktor, whose expression is, to say the least, dumbfounded.
"This place is weird", he tells me as Allison leaves to make a phone call, and I can only nod in agreement.
"This style was in vogue around 1920 in The City, it seems."
"Some people still seem to appreciate it."

He too has noticed the couple in furs, the woman momentarily setting aside her cocktail to whisper something to her companion behind her dark glasses. They seem to have stepped out of a 'film noir', woven with fate, betrayal, and ambiguous morality. Viktor raises an eyebrow as we follow the others.

"Did you used to come here to get high too?"
At least it's asked with honesty.
"No. I just came here a few times to pick up Klaus in pieces. I never even stayed the night."

And I'm not sure we can sleep here tonight, because there's a major problem none of us have raised: we have no way to pay. We don't have anything, in this time, except what we're wearing. And I sigh: I'm not eager to witness what is likely to be a negotiation disaster, and I expect us to have to set sail and look for another option quite soon.