Are you safe? Right now? Do you feel comfortable? As comfortable as someone like you can be doing something as dangerous as living, day to day, in a place so big. Are you driving? Sleeping?
Close your eyes. Okay, now, uh, open them again. You need your eyes. You need them to see. You need them to listen to what I'm saying.
Imagine... The desert. Imagine walking through the desert. A casual affair, the city right behind you. A car, right behind you. Imagine walking through the desert. Desert, desert, desert, desert, desert.
You may be, say, walking with a loved one. They may be right beside you.
Image that, now.
Walking together, talking together, enrapt—almost forgetting your surroundings. Talking about nothing much—friends, all good things, the new season of that show you wanted to give a second chance, series premiers, dogs, poodles, dog facts—facts about dogs. One thing leading to the next, as things almost always do. Constantly moving, two people through the desert.
Imagine being there—physically being there. And imagine your loved one is also physically there. You can touch. You can touch their shoulder, you can touch their arm, you can touch their hand. You can even touch their face, if you're into face touching in the scrub land.
You spend so much time together the city behind you sinks below the dunes. But, you do not turn back. Before you know it, in fact, you reach an impasse.
The single mountain, the single, fabricated, mountain.
"How long have we been walking?" Your loved one asks.
"I don't know." You respond, with the same tone.
You both—approach—the mountain. You will not touch it. You will not touch the mountain. Your loved one walks parallel to it's rocky ankle.
"Loved one," You say. "It..."
"It's got to be real." Your loved one states.
"Well, sure, I guess. If it has to be, why not. One mountain is easy to fake. Especially the texture. What kind of rock is this, mountainite?"
"Yeah!" Your loved one may say. "Andesite, probably. So, basically, it is mountainite." If your loved one is particularly scientific.
"We probably shouldn't be out here." You say, explaining the perils of mountains. Of believing in mountains. I'm just saying it's not that hard to build a mountain, but as you know, listeners, it would be impossible for there to actually be real mountains.
"Well, alright." Your loved one hovers near the mountain, continuing to observe it. "Oh, wait, come look at this."
"Nooooo..." You walk over, because you like hearing your loved one so excited even though you do not like fake mountains. "Oh." You say when you are looking at what they are looking at.
Secret tunnel. Secret tunnel, through the mountain. Secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel.