Chronological markers: this scene fits in as a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, season 3, episode 10, around 21:40 (just after Reginald Hargreeves stuns Klaus and rings the bell that triggers the awakening of the Guardians).
Note: to read this chapter, I recommend having recently rewatched the final scene of Oblivion, or watching it while reading.
Suggested soundtrack:
- For Oblivion : Woodkid - To Ashes and Blood ;
- Post reset : Michael Bublé - Feeling good ;
- End title : The Heavy - Short Change Hero.
-
*Dong!*
Would I have ever believed that the powerful sound of the gong, this time, would resonate as if it were meant to wake me as well, along with the Guardians? Hargreeves's hand was firm, decisive. He just rang the bell once, and the lobby lights immediately changed.
He just flipped the Oblivion switch.
Yes, this time, I feel it from the inside, this awakening that vibrates and hums through everything around us. Intimately, with all the pure energy that I now am, merged with the Omega Console. The entire Hotel stirs, the control station to which I belong trembles. The only comparison I have is that same helplessness I've always felt on a plane: no matter what we do now, we're going to land somewhere at the end.
Klaus is on the floor, knocked out by his father, but very much alive. I wish I could reach him. At least mentally. Let him know I'm here. But the Hotel is shaking, the yellow light crackles. And only a handful of seconds stretch out before the Hargreeves are attacked: right where I sense their positions in the upper floors, aligning with those of the Guardians.
The Nio are a defense, a test, a validation.
They're about to put their powers to the test, just as they did with mine, to assess their Marigolds, within their very essence. To validate them as Oblivion plug-ins, even though my companions have no idea. I suspected this step would be necessary, and yet I tremble. It is unbearable for me to feel their fear, their resolve, their unleashed fury through the data now flowing through me.
Viktor is the first to wield his abilities against the Guardian with the halberd. Almost at the same time, Diego and Lila strike in another hallway, seeking revenge on the one with the chained sickle. Above me, on the Omega Console's desk, the red phone clicks repeatedly, each time one of them has their power approved.
My soul aches to feel them struggle, to feel their pain, but there is no denying it: they are all winning. Deep down, I can barely imagine what would have happened had they not been trained, and I suddenly get another of the reasons Hargreeves originally chose not to adopt me.
By making myself intangible, I was never at real risk against the Guardians, and even less so now, locked away here. Hargreeves had no need to waste time and effort including me in his Academy, training me to survive… until he decided to, in an attempt to finally control me, as Christopher.
Sloane… Sloane breaks my heart, so consumed she is by grief and mourning. She fights with rage as she proves her power against the katana-wielding Guardian, followed by Five and Ben, near the laundry room. They are all fighting with everything they have. Watching them cooperate like this is both terrible and beautiful. But I'm sure of one thing…
They still don't know what awaits at the end of this 'necessary assesment'.
No matter how well-trained they are, none of them know why they are fighting, except out of resentment, or to stay alive. That's how the Hargreeves are. They don't know why they struggle. But they have been conditioned for this their entire lives.
Minutes stretch on. They advance, all of them. And in the midst of this storm, there's Klaus, still unconscious on the lobby floor, near the concierge desk. And the only place I wish I could be is by his side.
I'm afraid of what he'll do if something happens to him again. He probably didn't have time to look for me in the Void, but if he goes back, he will. He told me, not long ago, that he'd probably stay in the afterlife if I weren't there waiting for him. I don't know what pulled him back this time. But I fear it will be the last. I have to reach him. I have to use the little time the others are giving me, fighting.
"Klaus?"
Of course, he doesn't respond any more to cerebral electric stimuli than he did to the phone back when the 'Destiny's Children' had one.
"Klaus, for fuck's sake, you're not dead. Don't pretend you can't hear me."
Talking to an unconscious person isn't exactly effective, but it's all I have. Two Guardians have already fallen, I don't have much time left. I know his hazy mind can pick up the signals I'm sending through the interface. Now, I feel calm. Determined. I slip into him effortlessly, into his nervous system, just as Chris once did with me.
"KLAUS!"
There's no point in shouting at him, even directly into his neurons: it's never worked before. I need another way. I think at the speed Oblivion allows me. And then, to make him understand that I'm here, I choose… to download, in bulk, every damn snippets of memory we've ever shared.
01110011 01110001 01110101 01100001 01110100 01110011
Suddenly, with no order, flashing under his eyelids, come the memories of the jail cells we shared, of squats and random rooms, yurts and ashrams.
01110111 01100001 01100110 01100110 01101100 01100101 01110011
The taste of waffles, tacos, menudo, and all the leftover Vietnamese feasts from Granny.
01100010 01100001 01110100 01101000
The scent of lavender bath salts, weed, crack, opiates. The corridors of rehab, the gardeners' shed in Argyle Park.
01010010 01101111 01100011 01101011 01111001
B-movie scenes, marigolds on the Ganges, the strobe lights of insane raves. The pain of blows and grief, the dread of the Voices, the small pressure of fingertips.
01001110 01100101 01111000 01110101 01110011
The songs of the 'Children', the laughter over the counter at the Nexus Bar, the rumbling of apocalypses. The clatter of beads, the rustling of iridescent fabrics, the buzz of tattoo machines.
01001011 01101100 01100001 01110101 01110011
What I'm sending him is a gesture of mental affection for everything we are and have been, as powerful as the sum of everything I've ever given him. As if I'm holding him in the arms I no longer have, through the extensions of the Omega Console.
01010010 01101001 01101110 01101110 01111001
'Rinny'.
He just called me that in return: that name, just that name, through the golden streams of energy. He understands. He's coming back to himself as the others converge toward the lobby. Yes. Now he knows I'm here.
And that his father lied to him too.
01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100000 01101111 01101011 01100001 01111001
'It's going to be okay', I barely have time to tell him, because I want him to know I still have that hope.
Even if Hargreeves's damn parameters are implemented into the future reality, we will find each other beyond Oblivion.
That, now, is all that matters to me.
-
His brothers and sisters are gathered around him when Klaus opens his eyes with a gasp, under the yellowish glow of the lobby lights. All of them are injured, shaken. And furious. Because yes, Hargreeves really did kill Luther: Klaus is here now to bear witness to it.
I understand their anger, their despair, as they fully grasp their father's final murderous betrayals. Their rage surges through the system, reaching me as they confront him, even Ben. I feel it just as they do, so intensely that the console trapping me crackles nearby. But that bastard doesn't flinch. He urges them forward, waving the reset as a solution to fix everything. And unfortunately, he's right.
"We ~must~ find the Sigil!"
I could almost laugh at how his British accent now carries hints of urgency and irritation, when what he's looking for is quite literally beneath his feet. Despite all his analytical skills, his foresight, his manipulation, Hargreeves doesn't know everything, and for good reason: he's the only one among us who doesn't belong here.
He is fallible. He depends on us. The reverse has never been true.
"I don't give a shit about your Sigil, nobody does!" Sloane yells at him, more furious than ever.
But she's wrong. The very moment she says it, I feel a pulse in Five's Marigolds. A shiver. A realization. The greatest Eureka I've ever seen from him. Suddenly, he darts across the checkerboard lobby floor and rushes up the staircase to the mezzanine, leaning over the railing. He surveys the room.
His brilliant mind has figured it out. And out of sheer intellectual satisfaction, he's about to hand Hargreeves the very answer I refused to give him earlier.
Seven stars, embedded in the tiles. Seven slots, pulsing in my consciousness as well, waiting for my companions to take their places so they can join me in what has, in truth, already begun. Seven bells, as Hargreeves calls them. Seven horsemen of the apocalypse, which is not an ending, but a rebirth. Seven…
*Crash!*
Everything happens too fast for me to do anything. Through the glass ceiling of the lobby, the last Guardian - the one with the chained sickle, who had yet to be defeated - comes crashing down. My mind freezes as I register Five's pain, his arm severed clean off. He screams, collapsing against the railing, slumping onto the faded carpet.
But the Guardian isn't finished. Not by a long shot. He's hunting, I can sense it through the system. Seeking out the last power in the room that has yet to be tested and approved by the interface. The one belonging to-
"KLAUS!"
In an instant, the sickle whips across the lobby. Precise, ruthless, unrelenting. It slices open his abdomen, delivering him a death unlike any he's ever experienced before.
The Guardian detonates a smoke grenade, forcing the others to fall back, but none of them are willing to abandon the fight. Not Ben, not Diego, even though they have nothing left to prove. And Sloane - unhinged, dangerous - lifts the Nio into the air and crushes it with sheer gravitational force. She pours all of her fury into it, but she's wounded at her side, but—
01001100 01110101 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010
Suddenly, a new entry appears in Oblivion's database. A familiar Marigold signature, once again.
Luther. Material, tangible, though spectral. He grabs the Guardian and hurls it down onto the lobby floor as if it were made of straw and crawling cockroaches.
I don't know if I can still smile, but in my mind, I do, sadly. Klaus, lying on the ground, literally dying, is summoning his brother's ghost with what little strength he has left. Just as he once did for Ben. For David Bowie. For my Mom.
Never once has Klaus called forth a specter for Hargreeves. He's only done it for those he loves: even at the very end of one of his own lives. And now, he does it for Luther. For Sloane, who embraces him in a moment where time itself seems to pause. Giving Sloane one final goodbye. Giving his brother the chance to confront their father one last time.
"All those years, I stayed loyal to you. You wasted my life on the moon, and for what?"
Luther, in my opinion, deserves at least to know that he wasn't just cast aside like an inconvenience. Because - no - Hargreeves never does anything by accident.
"You did have a purpose. I left you to guard the most precious thing in the universe."
"And what was it?"
"You'll soon understand. You all will."
Hargreeves is out of control, still convinced that his love for his wife and the empire of power he wants to build around her justifies everything.
But that's not what worries me. On the ground, Klaus is fading fast. And suddenly, Luther disappears, dissipating into the Void, slipping through Sloane's fingers as she cries, though her soul is finally at peace. Yes. Klaus has taken his umpteenth last breath. And despite the tragedy unfolding in every possible way… something else pulses through the interface. Something terrible. Jealousy. Allison's jealousy toward Sloane. She swallows it down, hides it, but I feel it.
"Look!", Five shouts. "The Sigil is in the lobby floor! The stars!"
The Nio Guardian stirs, shifting its focus. It now locks onto Hargreeves, recognizing him as an intruder. And Hargreeves, sensing his life at stake, gives the order:
"Children! Find a star on the Sigil! Stand on it!"
I don't even have time to worry about whether Klaus will come back: because he does, immediately. In mere seconds, his abdomen has already closed up. He shivers, shakes himself off, but he's faster than ever. Somewhere in the depths of my memory, Hargreeves's words echo: the way he told me that 'half an hour is an eternity, during which most scenarios are already resolved'. Yes. Klaus had to be fast, to prove his power to the Guardian and return in time. Because I don't think we have thirty minutes, either. Hargreeves was right. He was right to accelerate Klaus's training.
*Clang!* Forces / Gravity.
01000110 01101111 01110010 01100011 01100101 01110011
Already, Sloane steps onto a star, and I feel the parameters activate within me as the slot beneath her glows.
*Clang!* Universal Module. Matter-Energy.
∞ 01001101 01100001 01110100 01101001 11101000 01110010 01100101
Lila. Viktor.
Allison is about to step forward, but Hargreeves holds her back—allowing Klaus to take his place.
*Clang!* Life and Souls / Psyche.
01010110 01101001 01100101 11000011 10100010 01101101 01100101 01110011
Unsteady but determined, he limps to the nearest star, locking it into place beneath his laced boots.
*Clang!* Planes. Trajectories.
01010000 01101100 01100001 01101110 01110011 00100000 01010100 01110010 01100001 01101010 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101111 01101001 01110010 01100101 01110011
Ben. Diego.
The Sigil responds as each plug-in connects to its slot, its energy surging to colossal levels. Their Marigolds resonate with mine, beyond anything I've ever felt through mere empathy. I finally understand why I have always felt so deeply connected to them. Why I've always tried to understand them, to bridge the gaps between them. Why my own power has always seemed so broad, so polymorphic. Because they are all linking to the Omega Console, drawing us together in Oblivion.
Only one slot remains, right in the center. Waiting for its plug-in, pulsing in a steady rhythm that pounds in my mind, as if I need it - need him - for us all to be whole and complete. I still don't know what we were born from. But I am convinced that once, long ago, we were a single swarm of particles, somewhere in this universe we are destined to restore.
Five descends the staircase as the Guardian rises, resetting its terrifying mask into place. He stares at the star. He considers, for just an instant, teleporting away. His hesitation ripples through him, through the space around us.
We stand at a crossroad of space-time.
This is the moment when he is about to decide whether or not to take one final, desperate leap through time. Back to the 1950s - further back than the 1960s, where we have already been alive - to create the Commission. To try, one last time, to stop all of this. To close the loop that he himself set into motion: marked, physically diminished by the loss of his arm, but resolute. Leaving us behind to a fate I don't dare to imagine.
His thoughts are in turmoil, and I know why. What changed in him this time? Somewhere, deep in his mind, his future self is indeed still whispering the name of Oblivion. And maybe… maybe he heard me, too, when I told him he had misinterpreted everything.
The Guardian roars, spinning its chain, and Hargreeves barks an order at Five, demanding that he take his place. Then he turns to Allison, staring at her, silently commanding her to Rumor her brother into obedience. She trembles, staring at Five, her eyes wide. And yet, she doesn't do it. She doesn't even consider it.
"Number Five! Quickly!", Hargreeves shouts one last time, and Oblivion thrums with the weight of its gathered energy.
*Clang!* Space-Time.
01000101 01110011 01110000 01100001 01100011 01100101 00101101 01110100 01100101 01101101 01110000 01110011
A teleportation, and Five has split the timeline once again.
Abandoning the Commission.
Completing the insertion of the plug-ins within the machine, within my very soul.
Triggering, in a blink, the operational phase of Oblivion.
-
*ZZZZZZZMMMMMMMM*
Not even a second passes before an immense energy bursts forth, ending the evaluation and validation phase, deactivating the Guardian as it disintegrates into a swarm of roaches. Behind his monocle, Hargreeves is moved. Awed. He barely breathes. And I, once again, feel my essence stir.
I've seen them before, these golden streaks of pure energy now spreading across the lobby, forming a complex and shimmering network, pouring from the ceiling like a swarm of electric fireflies. Flooding everything, replacing reality. Crawling up the towering pillars of the lobby, which link the Hotel to the cosmos. Yes, I had glimpsed them before: when losing control, at times, like on that day in the past when Lloyd ended up brawling with Klaus.
I feel just as I did then: my very being moved by a greater force, one that makes the Omega Console rotate and slide. Hargreeves rushes to it without hesitation as the control sphere unfurls into the energy, quite literally an extension of my power. Like a screen, available to its operator. Like the blue protective bubble of energy I sometimes created around myself.
Hargreeves is now the operator. An operator that, by all rights, should have been me, if that bastard hadn't customized the console to trap me inside it instead.
Hargreeves is a master at this. He has studied this part of Oblivion's process thoroughly, likely monitoring my slumber during childhood, just a few blocks away. His movements are swift, precise. There's no mistaking it. He reorganizes the plug-ins on the Sigil's schematic - the very one that was once on my arm - sliding them into place, one by one. I feel each of his motions as an intrusion, as a violation, as if he is forcing what should have been my role. He plays my soul like a violin, manipulating the console as he rewrites reality itself.
Allison stands frozen in the middle of the golden lines and fissures, her gaze transfixed. She stares at Hargreeves. At her siblings. At the console. She knows something is wrong. And she's right. I felt it too.
The machine is everywhere, infinite. Oblivion is expanding, consuming an immense amount of energy to function: far more than any conventional particle could generate, even through fission. This energy, this unique energy of the universe, created solely for this fleeting task: it comes from us, now. From our Marigolds. Except Allison's, whom Hargreeves has excluded.
I feel it in myself. I feel it in my fellows, who are withering in their slots, choking, connected by arcs of energy. We are all being drained as we fulfill our function: born to be consumed in carrying out this final act for which we were created.
Oblivion is a self-sustaining, self-feeding machine.
Designed to operate only once, in a given reality.
Indifferent to all of this, focused solely on his destination, Hargreeves carries on the configuration, methodically forging his megalomaniacal delusion into reality. He has already validated the parameters of forces, trajectories, gravity, of matter-energy and space-time. Making our suffering grow with each one.
His hand glides over the sphere, over me. He activates the retrieval of souls and lives to be re-implemented, and his mustache quivers. A plug-in of utmost importance to him, so he can bring back his wife. Klaus's expression is hollow, even though he's alive. A sight so heartbreaking that I can barely stand it. And I understand something else as the data pours in and our pain grows.
Hargreeves left Allison out of the Sigil because we were one more in number - one unnecessary to the process - and because he possibly respects their deal. To spare her from suffering. And yet… she's still the one defining the parameters of the new reality that is about to take form inside the machine…
…Through an intermediary. A mimic. A copycat. Through the power of poor Lila, whose vacant eyes don't even look at Diego anymore.
"I'm almost done", Hargreeves says, continuing to validate the plug-ins, ignoring the screams of those he is exploiting one last time. "And when I am, you and I will get what we came here for."
"No, you're killing them!"
"Everything in life has a price."
Allison understood that we would all be reimplemented in the new reality she wanted. Without our powers: Hargreeves never lied about that. But - just like me - she hadn't realized that, for this to happen, we all had to go through total annihilation. In pain. Pain so absolute it could only be matched by her father's cold indifference.
One last, ultimate abuse. But to him, 'only a rough patch on an otherwise verdant lawn'.
"STOP!"
Allison's desperate attempt fails, as Lila continues to channel her power of rewriting reality into Oblivion.
01000011 01101100 01100001 01101001 01110010 01100101
'Claire'.
01010010 01100001 01111001
'Ray'.
01001110 01101111 00100000 01010000 01101111 01110111 01100101 01110010 01110011
'No powers'.
The data for this Brave New World keeps accumulating.
01000001 01100010 01101001 01100111 01100001 01101001 01101100
'Abigail'.
01010000 01110010 01101111 01101010 01100101 01110100 00100000 01001000 01000101
'Project HE'.
And suddenly, I feel it. Something has been added.
01000001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01100001 00100000 00100110 00100000 01010010 01101111 01101110 01101110 01101001 01100101 00100000 01000111 01101001 01101100 01101100
'Anita & Ronnie Gill'.
Lila, no matter her state, is still a rebel. A punk. Even as Oblivion eats away at her, turning her body into something gaunt and skeletal, like the rest of us. She has just slipped a tiny binary line into Allison's data: the souls of her parents, pulled from the Beyond. The people the Handler had stolen from her when she was just a child. If I were only an observer, I might have smiled. But I am not. I, too, am suffering, struggling to hold Oblivion's interface together as the process nears its end.
Only one plug-in remains - the last - and I know how much it matters, after everything Hargreeves has put Ben through, across all his lifetimes.
Allison doesn't realize : she's lost, overwhelmed by the pain Hargreeves is inflicting on us. Searching for something - anything - to hold onto. But inside the system, the endless list of timelines keeps accumulating. Branching. Spreading. Most involve some version of Five, who has traveled and fractured so many.
And like any computer, Oblivion is preparing to purge its system. To erase everything that was. To initiate the Final Erasure: unleashing the eldritch creatures that devour realities, spilling in from another plane.
The pruning of timelines : a crucial last step, before a single, pristine reality can reboot.
Hargreeves reaches for Ben's plug-in, preparing to slide it into the final square of the Sigil, its vacant space flashing, waiting to be completed. He is so close to his goal, trembling now, his hand gliding over my very being to-
*SHLACK!*
Hargreeves will never complete the timelines cleanse.
He collapses, his alien skull cleaved in two by the Guardian's blade, wielded by Allison. Driven by the purest instinct of protection - for her family - she has finally reconciled her heart with her conscience. Far too late, but with every ounce of strength she has left. Everyone collapses, conscious but exhausted.
I wish I could speak to Allison like I did to Klaus, flood her mind with data to explain what she has just interrupted. But I can't, because of how exhausted I am. So we just stare at each other: she, panting; and me, invisible to her, who only sees the Omega console.
The interface still flickers in front of her, amidst the frantic shouting of her brothers and sisters. The last slot, the one meant to be filled with Ben's power, is right there - obvious - glaringly empty under her gaze. But she can't understand.
Yes. In her ignorance, she has just disrupted the optimal sequence of the reset, and now we are out of time. Oblivion is no longer being fueld by Marigolds. The machine won't hold for much longer. What do we have left now? Inside my digital heart, there is only sadness and fear. Fear of the absolute unknown that awaits us if we activate the reset despite its incomplete state.
I feel the system shudder. I feel myself fading. So I summon the only thing that comes to mind.
A red button.
As big as possible.
The idea had once seemed ridiculous to me - I had even joked about it with Diego back in his room - but right now in the few seconds we have left before the last Marigold burns away, it is all I have to draw Allison's attention.
Yes. A big, red button.
It appears on the sphere of pure blue energy, pulsing weakly, emitting a pathetic little sound: the last whisper of my grip on reality.
"Press it, please". Those words are spoken only for myself. For the universe. And at last, she moves. Even though she can't hear me. Her hand rises and I hold on, as if I were lifting mine in return, reaching to brush my fingers against hers.
"Allison... Allison, don't touch that button! We don't know what it does!"
Fuck. I have never wanted more desperately for Five to shut the hell up. And Viktor tries to stop her too, mustering the last bit of strength for what would have been his final sonic blast. But what do they expect? What do they think will happen if we don't go through with this? The universe is about to stop, along with the system. It's that simple.
"Allison, stop! Don't make me do this!"
Allison hesitates, her fingers hovering just above me. She turns to Viktor as I strain to hold the red button a little longer. She meets his gaze, calm, yet filled with sorrow and certainty.
"Do you trust me?", she asks.
Viktor freezes, fists clenched. He looks at her, so do the others. Even Klaus, staring at the red button, knowing what it is and where I am.
Five keeps shouting.
Ben shouts at Five.
Diego shouts at Ben.
The usual Hargreeves chaos will be the last thing the old world ever hears, for Allison makes her choice.
She touches me at last.
And presses the button.
*SWEEEEEEP*
Now, as my old friend Mark once said...
Come hell. Or high water.
-
. . .
. . .
April 07 2019, 01:01
'Birds flying high, you know how I feel'.
I've always loved the mechanics of elevators: the glide of the cables, the tension in the gears, the electric pulse of the circuits. It soothes me. Usually, I like to sink into their movement, feel it in the kinetic and potential energy, suspended between two realities within space-time. But not this time. This elevator, bearing the Obsidian symbol, is silent.
'Sun in the sky, you know how I feel'.
Don't get me wrong: it's not that it lacks sound. The voices of the Hargreeves are still bickering around me, and that damn Michael Bublé is crooning through the tiny speakers. No. The silence I mean is deeper, more terrifying. A void. It's in the core of the machine that this elevator has gone silent for me: I no longer feel its substance, its energy.
'Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel'.
And yet, I'm alive. The universe is still here. I can clearly recognize Diego and Luther's voices, Ben and Viktor's sighs, and Lila's sarcastic laugh. I try to trace their Marigolds, but I can't sense any either. So, I open my eyes: material and tangible.
On my forearm, beyond my black sleeve, no more lines - no squares - crisscross my smooth, bare skin : as clear as day, the Sigil is gone. It has fulfilled its purpose, and so have we. Oblivion found an exit, despite its incompletion. With what consequences? I don't know, but for now, I don't care. I don't want to know. Not yet.
'It's a new dawn, it's a new day. It's a new life for me... and I'm feeling good.'
I can't make out much of the space around me, squeezed between the others. But Klaus's hand is close enough that, in a rare impulse, I brush my fingers against his. He's here. I'm here. And in silence, an indescribable weight lifts inside me.
His palms no longer bear 'Hello' or 'Goodbye', and I know why. We've been reset, too. Reprogrammed, like the whole of reality. No powers anymore. No Marigolds. Just ourselves and our memories. Allison decided for all of us. I don't know what I would have chosen if she had asked me, but I know Klaus would have wanted this. My emotions are tangled, and in any case, I no longer have a choice.
'And this old world is a new world, and a bold world, for me'.
I know what Allison hastily injected into this reset, in the little time she had to shape it within her troubled mind. A lot of Claire, of Ray, of her happy life from before ; Hargreeves's delusional megalomania ; the little that Lila managed to worm into it... and the rest is just bringing back the old world, where we could live 'in peace'.
'Oh, freedom is mine, and I know how I feel'.
What else? I don't know, but one thing is certain: this reality has been shaped mostly by her desires, her deals, her jealousies, and her grudges. Suddenly, I'm afraid for Sloane, really afraid. I don't see her, nor do I see Allison, but we're packed tight because the elevator is small. Did they possibly take the next one?
I look up and finally meet Klaus's gaze as the lift carries us higher and higher. His eyes are surprisingly clear, lucid, in a way I don't think I've ever seen before. As if an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Even his body seemed less worn. A moment passes where we understand each other without words, with just a faint smile.
'It's a new dawn, it's a new day. It's a new life for me... and I'm feeling good.'
Then - suddenly - something catches my attention on the elevator's control panel.
'Obsidian Memorial Park' is our destination, glowing red. But there are so many other floors: the City's underground has always been dug deep with countless levels.
But at the very bottom, there's a different button. Not gray. Gold.
Bearing a single symbol instead of a number: ⊖
I narrow my eyes.
*Ding!*
The doors slide open, and the sounds of The City flood in - suddenly - all at once. The honking, the traffic, the April wind rustling through the maples. A massive moon looms over the glass-and-steel towers of the business district, taller than ever. One by one, the Hargreeves step out into the small memorial garden, but I don't move. I stay in the corner of the elevator, my eyes still locked on the golden button.
"I'll catch up in a minute", I tell Klaus, letting go of his fingers, and he nods before stepping out, Luther following right behind. The door slides shut again, and I hesitate to reopen it. I blink once, twice.
And then - without thinking any further - I reach out, and my finger presses the ⊖ button.
The elevator shudders and begins to descend. Lower. Ever lower. Six floors. Seven. Suddenly, it jerks slightly, as if its electrical system were being strained. Its lights flicker briefly, but it keeps going. Then I feel it slow down, reaching its destination.
*Ding!*
One step out of the elevator. Two. Three.
My heart pounds, but I promise myself not to go far: I can't turn invisible anymore to sneak around unnoticed. Just a quick look, yes, a few seconds, and then I'll go back up. Silently, the elevator doors close behind me.
The air is different here. Denser. Charged with an imperceptible murmur, an underlying vibration that sends a shiver through my skin, despite the absence of Marigolds within me. My eyes adjust slightly to the dim lighting, realizing the space before me is vast. I open them wider.
There, in front of me… a subway station is under construction. An underground transit network, in a city that has never had one.
I take it in, silently: its white tiles, its pale neon lights. The map of the lines is already displayed, gleaming in gold. The interconnections are numerous, convoluted: absurdly so, for The City.
At this hour, the work seems to be on pause. I'm exhausted, and honestly, I don't care: I just want to rest now. So, I shrug, I turn, I press the button.
*Ding!*
The elevator reopens behind me, and I head back the way I came.
Upward, toward whatever awaits us.
-
Notes:
As always, and like the Hargreeves, I feel torn away from this season once again, just as I was starting to feel at home in it. Tossed around, over and over, in Reginald's schemes and shifting timelines.
I hope that, like me, you've enjoyed trying to better understand Oblivion, and this season as a whole. To me, it feels like the culmination of the three previous seasons, with arcs built up very gradually, especially Omega's.
subway under construction, with Sloane's absence driven by Allison's jealousy, you might already see my intent to fill some of Season 4's plot holes. And now… a completely new world lies ahead.
Once again, thank you for reading this story, and for being here with me each week, giving me the motivation to keep going! If you've made it to the end of this season, even if you've been silent until now, leave me a little message… even just a smiley!
And while we wait to step onto the subway, if you'd like to learn more about Rin and Klaus's early years, you can also check out the prequel 'Snippets of memory', also available on my profile.
See you very soon… for a fourth and final bend in space-time.