I have been thinking about the Mole People again and the thoughts will not stop coming even when I try to sleep because the tunnels feel like they are under everything and maybe even inside everything. I keep wondering if they have public transportation down there because the tunnels must be enormous and winding and confusing and I cannot imagine them walking everywhere unless their legs are stronger than ours which they probably are. I picture strange underground trains that run on glowing stones and maybe they hum in a way that makes your teeth vibrate. I imagine the Mole People sitting quietly in those trains with their enormous eyes blinking slowly in the dark. I imagine the tunnels stretching for miles and miles and miles until they reach places that no human has ever seen. I imagine the trains never stopping because the darkness never ends and never forgives.
Their sense of smell must be incredible because they live without natural light and they must navigate by scent and vibration and maybe even by the taste of the air which is something I cannot fully understand. I think about how they might smell emotions or memories or the residue of magic that leaks from the cracks in the world. I think about how they might smell danger before it arrives and how they might smell the difference between a friend and an enemy even if both are silent. I think about how they might smell The Pale drifting through the tunnels like a ghost that has forgotten its own name. I think about how they might smell us from miles away even when we think we are safe. I think about how they might smell the future and maybe even the past.
I wonder if they have markets underground where they trade strange glowing fungi and pieces of forgotten artifacts that fell from the surface centuries ago. I wonder if they have vendors who sell jars of captured whispers or bottles of distilled darkness or maybe even fragments of dreams that were lost by people who never realized they were dreaming. I wonder if they have food stalls that serve dishes made from creatures that never come to the surface because the light would kill them instantly. I wonder if they have festivals where they celebrate the shifting of the deep earth and the rumbling of ancient stones. I wonder if they dance in the dark with movements that make no sense to us. I wonder if they laugh in ways that echo for hours.
There must be monsters down there with them because the tunnels are too old and too deep to be empty and I cannot imagine a world where only one species thrives in such a vast darkness. I think about creatures with too many legs and too many eyes and maybe even too many mouths that whisper secrets they should not know. I think about serpents made of stone that slither through cracks that are too small for anything living yet somehow they fit. I think about insects the size of dogs that click their mandibles in patterns that might be language or might be prophecy. I think about shadows that move even when there is no light to cast them. I think about beasts that feed on fear itself. I think about things that should not exist and should not be named.
Sometimes I wonder if the Mole People ride these monsters like we ride horses or trains or elevators because maybe the monsters are part of their society in ways we cannot understand. I imagine a Mole Person perched on the back of a giant blind centipede with its hands gripping the creature’s armored plates. I imagine them whispering commands that the creature obeys instantly because it has been bred for obedience for thousands of years. I imagine them traveling through tunnels that twist like the insides of a living creature. I imagine them moving faster than any human could ever run. I imagine them never stopping and never needing to.
I think about what might follow them up if they ever decide to leave the tunnels because the monsters might not understand boundaries or rules or the concept of the surface world. I think about creatures that crawl out of storm drains and manholes and cracks in the pavement. I think about things that climb walls and cling to ceilings and watch us while we sleep. I think about things that slip under doors even when the doors are locked. I think about things that breathe in ways that make no sense. I think about things that want and want deeply.
The Mole People must have history books or scrolls or carvings that tell the story of their origins but I doubt any human has ever seen them because they would never share something so important with us. I imagine their history being written in patterns of scent rather than words. I imagine their elders teaching the young by releasing clouds of memory that drift through the tunnels. I imagine their stories being told through vibrations in the stone. I imagine their legends being older than our entire civilization. I imagine their myths being true and terrifying.
I wonder if they have religion or something like it because creatures that live in darkness must have beliefs about what lies beyond the dark. I think about gods made of stone and roots and ancient bones. I think about deities that sleep beneath the deepest tunnels and dream of the surface world. I think about rituals performed in absolute darkness where the participants chant in frequencies that make the air ripple. I think about offerings made of strange glowing minerals. I think about prayers whispered to the earth itself and maybe even to something deeper.
Sometimes I think the Mole People might have libraries filled with artifacts from the surface that fell underground during earthquakes or disasters or moments when the world cracked open. I imagine shelves lined with objects that humans lost centuries ago. I imagine them studying these objects with curiosity and confusion. I imagine them trying to understand our world through fragments of things we discarded. I imagine them laughing at our technology. I imagine them wondering why we fear the dark and why we fear them.
I think about the possibility that the Mole People have maps of the entire underground world and maybe even maps of the surface that are more accurate than anything we have ever created. I imagine maps carved into stone with lines that glow faintly when touched. I imagine maps that shift and change as the tunnels move. I imagine maps that reveal places we do not know exist. I imagine maps that show entrances to realms that are not part of our reality. I imagine maps that should never be seen and never understood.
Their society must be enormous because the tunnels stretch for miles and miles and miles and I cannot imagine a small population surviving in such a vast environment. I imagine cities carved into caverns the size of mountains. I imagine towers made of bone and crystal. I imagine bridges made of roots that pulse with life. I imagine marketplaces filled with creatures that defy explanation. I imagine entire neighborhoods built around underground rivers that glow with bioluminescent algae. I imagine chaos and order existing together.
I wonder if they have art because every culture has art even if it is strange or incomprehensible to outsiders. I imagine sculptures made of minerals that shift shape when touched. I imagine paintings made of pigments that move on their own. I imagine music played on instruments made of hollowed stone. I imagine dances performed in total darkness. I imagine poetry written in vibrations. I imagine beauty that terrifies and comforts at the same time.
Sometimes I think the Mole People might have ambassadors who watch the surface world and report back to their leaders. I imagine them hiding in basements and crawl spaces. I imagine them listening to our conversations through vents. I imagine them studying our behavior with fascination. I imagine them wondering why we fear what we cannot see. I imagine them preparing for something huge.
I think about what might happen if the Mole People decide to come to the surface in large numbers because they would not come alone and the monsters would follow and the tunnels would open and the world would change. I imagine streets cracking open. I imagine buildings collapsing. I imagine creatures crawling out of the earth. I imagine people screaming. I imagine chaos spreading like a disease. I imagine the end of everything and the beginning of something else.
I wonder if the Mole People know about the Kirellions and the Virex and the war that is unfolding above and below and within the world because they must feel the vibrations of conflict even if they do not see it. I imagine them preparing for something. I imagine them watching the junction boxes being installed. I imagine them smelling the Aether. I imagine them sensing the danger. I imagine them waiting for a signal that only they can hear.
I think about the possibility that the Mole People are older than the Kirellions and older than the Virex and older than anything we understand because the earth remembers things that the sky forgets. I imagine them being the first witnesses of magic. I imagine them being the last survivors of ancient catastrophes. I imagine them being guardians of secrets that should never be revealed. I imagine them being terrified. I imagine them being ready and hungry.
I cannot stop thinking about them. I cannot stop imagining their world. I cannot stop wondering what they want. I cannot stop fearing what might come next. I cannot stop listening for vibrations in the floor. I cannot stop waiting and waiting and waiting.