The Tunneller

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The Tunneller

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The Tunneller

A brief background

The Tunneller began its first incarnation as an animation storyboard back in 1992. I was immersed in the ideas of deep ecology and system theories at the time. The impulse behind the idea was the frustration I was experiencing regardinng the destruction of our eco-systems which in turn, seemed to symbolize the neglect and abuse of our own inner landscapes. The story can be viewed as an ecological fable or modern fairy tale, and/or an allegory for the journey of the soul.

It lay forgotten for more than a year. Although working in the industry at the time, getting the money and finding the time to make it into an animated film was nigh on impossible. I decided to shelve that idea in favour of a story-book. I still think it would work best as an animation however, as the story was first conceived wholly as a visual medium.

I began writing the text in the winter of 1994 aiming the story at children aged 12, upwards. From 1995 to 1997 I barely looked at the manuscript, though it was in my mind. I did however begin to play with some illustrations in 1996.

It then lay dormant once again due to time constraints and general upheavals, but returning to both the illustrations and the text in 1997. By now, the book had become a way of exploring my own journey, my own “tunnelling” with all its failures and far too occasional successes. It had become a cathartic process all its own. In early 1999 I added a few more illustrations and fleshed out the story. There are aspects of the story that work and other elements which don’t, but I am happy with it as an illustration of what I wanted to say at the time.

I hope you enjoy reading it.

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE BIRD

Far into space, all was quiet. The multitude of stars shone brightly and the blackness continued to think its deepest thoughts.

A planet lay at the outer rim of a galaxy. It seemed devoid of life, forlorn and miserable, as if it were silently weeping. There was no sound save the wind that howled across the barren land. Dead trees shivered under the grey skies and shifting sands lapped at the edges of rocks. From North, South, East and West the planet remained colourless and crude, its beauty long since faded.

It would have been incorrect, however, to say that this was a planet truly without life. If one travelled towards the Northern part of the land and journeyed deep below the surface, beneath the many crusts and layers of ancient remains… something was stirring. And what was the cause of this stirring? This restlessness?

A little ball of light lay shining brightly in a cavern of its own making, lodged in the ground, glowing like miniature sun. How long it had lain there was impossible to say. Perhaps it had always been there.

On this day, it began to shake and jiggle, as though something was trying to escape. What’s more, a muffled, ringing sound of an alarm-clock could be heard. The ball of light began to rock from side to side, the soil around its rim beginning to fall away until eventually it’s radiance began to soften and dim until the ball could be seen for what it was:

A little white miner's helmet, complete with a polished lamp!

Seconds later a large, dark head popped up from under that helmet, sending soil and stone in all directions. A pair of head-light eyes shone out and a small mouth let out a loud yawn….

...The Tunneller had awoken!

He shook his head from side to side, causing great clods of earth to fly from his little ears. Noticing the pin-point of daylight at the very top of the tunnel, he lifted himself out of the hole and was busily brushing his long slim body with a delicate white cloth. He was dressed in a smart uniform the colour of coal with a belt and large shoes which matched the snow-white of his helmet.

Clearing his throat in a business-like fashion, he gazed up the length of the tunnel above him. With one huge leap he was climbing upwards towards the surface where the prospect of filling his lungs with cool, fresh air was most inviting.

The Tunneller scanned the rugged terrain which stretched endlessly before him. Brooding clouds sent shadows oozing over brittle rocks. Huge cracks littered the landscape like wounds on a once healthy skin. A long despairing sigh left his lips:

“This is a planet with a most heavy heart,” he said softly. I must help her breathe again.”

He placed a hand on a huge slab of rock and closed his eyes. The memories of the planet's long forgotten past flooded into his mind.

He saw emerald-green meadows and bright, fresh waterfalls; rain-forests bursting with colourful birds and undiscovered animals.

He saw the tides of the ocean and creamy-white sands; secret rivers flowing through rolling hills and mist laden mountains. He smelt the scent of flowers and tasted the salt of the sea. He could see no separation between people and Nature. He heard their laughter carried on the winds.

Then the memories changed.

He saw towering buildings spreading over the land; great highways and roads blasted through mountains and gouged into the planet; forests were burned and stripped away and the sky was filled with acid smoke and choking fumes.

He saw people separated from Nature and becoming sad and lonely. He saw people burying mountains of decaying rubbish into the planet and toxic waste into the sea until there was no space left for anyone. The planet was overflowing with people's greed and she could no longer breathe. When this was so, then the people could also no longer breathe. All that was left was the rubbish, the waste and a howling wind.

The Tunneller lifted his hand from the rock and shook his head. The visions of the rain-forests and crystal-clear waters swam into his mind once more.

“Well, it’s time for a different possibility.” he said, and tipping his miners helmet forward with an air of determination, he made for the entrance of the tunnel.

As the little man turned towards the mouth of the tunnel, he stumbled on a small rock. Recovering his balance, he looked down and picked it up.

“Did you wish for my attention?” he said, “Perhaps I can reward you for your trouble.”

With that, The Tunneller dipped his head and held the rock up to a steady stream of laser-blue light which now flowed from the lamp in his helmet. It began to change colour from dark, dull grey, to rose-pink, then to yellow, green, orange and blue until its shape began to alter. What was once a simple rock, now became a mass of shifting colour, organising itself into a new form. Before long, there lay in the palm of The Tunneller's hand a beautiful Butterfly, its bright orange wings quivering gently as blood coursed through its veins. It flew into the air, circling its creator again and again until it came to rest on the top of his head.

“What am I?” she said.

“A Butterfly,” answered The Tunneller cheerfully.

“Butterfly! I like it!” she carefully unrolled her tongue several times and opened and shut her wings.

“So what do I do now? ...”

“Be a Butterfly.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just do what comes naturally.”

She settled on The Tunneller’s outstretched hand.

“I must admit, this is very different. What was I doing before?”

“Being a rock actually,” said The Tunneller, pointing at the ground.

“Oh yes,” said The Butterfly, a little disappointed, “Well, I much prefer being a Butter..Butter..Butterfly...I have things to do!”

“Ah, yes, slight problem there at the moment,” said The Tunneller scratching his nose, “I need to help get this planet back into working order first, according to protocol No. 64 on the Tunneller charter of planetary response, then you'll be able to do all the things that a Butterfly is meant to do.”

“Can I help?” She asked, admiring the length of her tongue.

The Tunneller raised his eyebrows. “Well I'm not sure there's much you can do right now but stick around, I think you may play a part somewhere.”

“What is it? What it is it? What?..What?..What?..” She flew clumsily around The Tunneller's face.

“Calm down little one, calm yourself!” he laughed quietly, “Everything has its allotted time and you shall have yours.”

He approached the edge of the tunnel and lowered himself into the opening.

“Wait for me here, I'll be back.” And with that, he disappeared.

“What? Where are you going? Come back!”

The Butterfly fluttered frantically around the tunnel entrance. Eventually, she settled on one of the dry rocks at the tunnel’s edge and slowly fanned her wings, still rolling her tongue back and forth. “How very boring to be a rock,” she said to herself, “and how lucky I am to be me.” She fluttered into the air. “Look at me rocks! Look at me!”

The rocks did not answer of course. They were too busy, well…being rocks.

***

Far below the surface all was cold and damp.

The inner planet was a mass of ancient compacted rubbish from many layers of living which had slowly choked her insides until she could take no more. She had harnessed what little energy she had left and had withdrawn and waited. But help was at hand.

A speck of light could be seen piercing the shadows. It became bigger and bigger, a fierce midnight-sun emerging from the gloom. It was The Tunneller's lamp-light absorbing all the refuse, like a caterpillar of light munching through the darkness, creating many tunnels through the ancient layers, so that the planet might breathe again, so that light may flow into the darkness.

On and on, the beam of blue-white light cut through every kind of rubbish you can imagine: car engines to umbrellas, old rubber tyres to floppy disks. He had special wheels fitted to his knees which aided in his task of tunnelling. They cushioned the shocks from obstacles that came his way. But because his vision was so keen he manged to avoid the most serious of obstacles which lay in his path and so maintain the proper functioning of his wheels.

Although the work was tiring and extremely dirty he found much satisfaction in his task. However, there were moments when he felt quite lonely. At times like these he sang songs which helped him concentrate and lift his spirits.

As the rubbish spiralled in front of him, being broken down and transformed within the light, a rhyme entered his mind and he sang it loudly as if performing to a waiting audience:

I am The Tunneller,

Remember my name,

I come to awaken the

Planetary flame...

With squeaking wheels I venture forth,

In all directions, east and north,

Upwards, downwards, around and around,

Creating channels of light and sound.

Purple pots and pizza-pans,

Bricks and bottles, aluminium cans,

Compact discs and coloured plastic,

Rubber tyres and blue elastic,

Rusted kettles and copper coasters,

Radioactive sandwich-toasters,

Latex,, perspex, barrels of oil,

Washing-machines and kitchen foil,

Polythene bags, super-store trolleys,

Cash-tills, credit cars, designer brolleys,

Miles of cable and telephone wires,

Radiators, percolators, old gas-fires,

Computer consoles and gold-plated taps,

Engines, fridges and petrol-caps,

DVDs and mobile phones,

Spark-plugs, jugs and traffic-cones.

I mine for rubbish in the cold, damp dark,

Through laser light I make my mark,

A labyrinth, maze, and spaghetti junction,

All at once my special function.

I am The Tunneller,

Remember my name,

I come to awaken the

Planetary flame...

As dawn broke there was an atmosphere of expectancy in the air.

The Butterfly had been watching The Tunneller with interest. He would frequently break through to the surface like a mole, allowing another opening into his underground maze. Finally, he had emerged and was busily scurrying about the landscape, looking down the many thousands of tunnel entrances he had made to the underworld. The Butterfly managed to catch up with him while he rested awhile.

“Have you finished?” she inquired politely, settling on his shoulder.

He looked down to his left and smiled, “Why yes. Have you been following our progress?”

“Certainly. I've seen how the planet can breathe again. I can see it rising out of all these tunnels.”

“Well, that's the general idea. There's so much rubbish around that it's become part of her body and if I don't create space for her to breathe...she'll die.”

“So, this big planet's alive then?”

“Well, you remember what it was like being a rock?”

“Quite boring.”

“Yes, but you were very good at being that rock weren't you?”

“Of course! It was a great way to make friends with other rocks who were doing the same thing...just holding things together. I much prefer being a Butterfly though.”

She fluttered around The Tunneller twice and landed on his nose. “So this planet's like a big rock then?”

“Yes, at the moment. I've got to work with her and get back to her old self again so that she can live in a more balanced way; so that she can hold together every kind of life that's ever been and ever will be.”

“Including me?”

“Of course,” The Tunneller spread out his arms wide in front of him. The Butterfly hovered above his head, “you're a tiny part of her already, a messenger of what could be.”

She landed on his helmet and slowly opened her wings.

“You mean there's more than just rocks and Butterflies?”

“Much more.”

She unrolled her tongue, thinking hard. “All I want to know is, where are all the flowers for me to drink from? You can't get more exciting than that!”

The Tunneller chuckled, “Wait and see my friend,” and he knocked on the side of his helmet three times and waited.

Again he knocked, once, twice, three times...

...and waited…

..And waited.

Finally, he knocked a little more forcefully: once, twice three times. And then he frowned.

“Well I don't call this very exciting.” said The Butterfly.

Just as The Tunneller was about give himself a headache, his helmet swiftly opened.

“Oh!” exclaimed The Butterfly, her feelers standing to attention.

From within The Tunneller's head there came a strange whirring sound and a little blue bird on swing emerged, gently moving back and forth.

“QUARK!” she cried loudly and flew from her perch, circling The Tunneller once, and finally landing on his shoulder.

The little creature could not have been compared to any ordinary bird. She had the wings of a sparrow, the body of a crow, the beak of a horn-bill, and the bright turquoise feathers of a bird of paradise, together with a pair of black, beady eyes sparkling with intelligence. Meanwhile, the swing lowered into his head and the helmet swung shut with a metallic click!

The Bird stretched the stiffness from her twiglet legs, and began to preen herself.

“So where were you? I was knocking for a full two minutes,” said The Tunneller.

“I didn't realise it was that time again,” she mumbled, “my alarm clock must be slow.”

“I see” said The Tunneller unconvinced.

The Bird hopped from her Master's shoulder and onto the ground. She looked up at The Butterfly fluttering above her, “So who's the insect?”

“Oh, just a little friend I picked up on the way. Butterfly, meet The Bird. Bird, meet Butterfly.”

As neither was quite sure how to go about greeting each other The Butterfly decided the best thing to do would be to roll out its tongue like a miniature royal carpet. The Bird, who was equally confused, simply cried: “QUARK!” And eyed her suspiciously.

“Right, now that we have introductions out of the way we have work to do.” He brought the Bird up to his face. “Are you ready my lady of the lamp?”

“I suppose,” she yawned widely. “What's on the agenda?”

“The usual. But we're behind time so I suggest we get a move on.”

He delved into his chest pocket and produced a small red, velvet pouch. As he undid the cord, a dazzling quantity of golden seed glittered forth.

“QUARK! QUARK!” cried The Bird eagerly.

“Cor!” whispered The Butterfly.

He pinched a small amount between two fingers and dropped it into her open beak. She seemed to glow like a Christmas-tree light for a few seconds, her eyes gleaming.

“There you are, you're all set.”

He placed The Bird at the edge of a tunnel entrance. She looked hesitantly peered into its depths and turned back to her Master. “What, down there?”

“That's right. You know the drill.”

She yawned and scratched her belly, her leg becoming a blur.

The Butterfly fluttered over her excitedly, “What are you going to do?”

She eyed him wearily and exercised her wings. “I…” She paused for dramatic effect,

“am about to play a rather large part in re-introducing life back into this planet.”

“What, you?”

The Little Bird blinked her eyes with irritation. “Yes me!..I happen to be a rather special kind of bird!”

“What happens?”

The Bird cleared her throat hoping to create the right impression, “I change into a powerful, magical force called The Energia.”

“Why?”

“It's my job description,” she sneered.

The Butterfly landed on the edge of the tunnel on the opposite side to The Bird.

“Can I come and watch?”

No. I don't take spectators.”

“What's a spectator'?

“Someone who asks too many questions.” She glared at the insect.

“Will there be some flowers around when you've finished then?” piped The Butterfly excitedly.

“I suppose.”

“I think I'm meant to draw nectar from flowers, that's what I'm meant to do.” She began to flutter about The Bird in ever decreasing circles. “I'm a Butterfly you see, that's what I do, now that I'm not a rock anymore.”

“I see,” said The Bird, not seeing at all.

“So I'm free to go anywhere and eat all the nectar I want! Yippee!” The Butterfly unfurled its tongue several times and fluttered around the head of The Bird, coming to rest on her beak. “What do you eat then Bird?”

“Oooh, all sorts of things, but mostly flies.”

“Oh that sounds really tasty!” The insect's eyes suddenly bulged. “Hold on, I’m a Butter-fly aren't I?”

“Why so you are.” The Bird answered with a sly smile.

The Butterfly flew from her perch as quickly as she could, coming to rest on the Tunnneller's helmet.

“And keep your sticky legs to yourself!” shouted The Bird crossly.

“All right that's enough,” said The Tunneller impatiently, “May I remind you we have a deadline to keep.”

Without further delay, The Little Bird raised her wing and saluted her Master. The Tunneller nodded in response, watching her disappear down the hole, into the depths of the underground network of tunnels. The sound of flapping wings gradually faded.

The Butterfly settled on a rock and walked about its surface, feelers drooping. “Maybe being a rock wasn't so bad,” she murmured miserably.

The Tunneller laughed. “There's no going back little one. You are now officially on The Great River of Life.”

“Where does that go?”

“Up to you.”

“Then I’d like to go to an ocean of nectar!” proposed the Insect.

The Tunneller listened to The Little Bird's wings descending deeper into the planet. Suddenly, he clenched his fists and frowned deeply.

“By The Buckles of Orion's Belt!” he seethed, “I knew I'd forget! How could I have been so careless?”

“What?” inquired The Butterfly.

“This is the planet where The Stix has been assigned his task of keeping darkness here as a dominat force. The Stix is very powerful this time and I wanted to warn her to be extra careful. It's been a very long time since they've crossed paths.”

“What's a Stix?”

There was a pause, as if The Tunneller was immersed in thought. “Oh, he's a nasty being indeed. He's made up of all the hateful, frustrated thoughts of people who have come and gone over many millions of years. He lives in the hearts of planets and all he wishes to do is to keep people producing more and more rubbish in their minds and dumping it into the universe.

The Butterfly crossed and uncrossed her feelers “Why?”

“Well, that’s what he does. It’s his nature. That’s ok. But it can get out of control sometimes and the balance needs to be addressed – that’s where we come in. The only thing he wants more than the hearts of planets and people is the power of The Little Bird: the power to make his dreams real and permenant.

The Butterfly had given up trying to understand what The Tunneller was talking about, but she knew that he was concerned. “What are we going to do?”she squeaked.

The Tunneller was already making for the entrance to the world below.

“We must warn her before its too late! Quickly, follow me!”

DREAMING OF THE STIX

Meanwhile, The Bird had reached the bottom of the tunnel.

Bathed in a pool of hazy light, she looked all around her. She seemed to be at the crossroads of many different tunnels which went off in as many directions. Each one could have led anywhere.

The Little Bird pecked at the ground for a bit then decided to carry out her duties. It was time for The Energia to be introduced.

She stood up and flapped her wings. With a loud: “QUARK!” she turned to her left, then her right and decided to enter one of the tunnels directly in front of her. With a faint pitter-patter of tiny her twiglet feet, she hopped into the darkness.

The plan was this: The Little Bird would find a suitable place that felt just right and begin to spin. Yes, she would flap her wings and begin to spin around in a circle. She would spin so fast that she would be begin to fall into a kind of sleep. It was then that a dream of the Energia would form and things would start to happen.

She had found a location that suited her purposes and all seemed peaceful. Just as she was exercising her wings and limbering up, she heard a noise.

Squeak, squeak.

She listened again.

Squeak..squeak.

It seemed to be coming from deep in the darkness of the tunnel to her left. It was faint but getting louder.

Squeak, squeak, squeak...

She tried to see something through the gloom. “QUARK! Who's there?” she snapped.

Her cry echoed against the furrowed walls.

Squeak..squeak..squeak..squeak...

It sounded like a pair wheels in need of some oil...but of course! It had to be The Tunneller! No. He would not re-enter the tunnels until The Energia had made its appearance. She frowned. Who, or what could be making such a noise? Whatever it was, it was getting closer and louder.

Squeak..squeak..squeak..squeak...

The Little Bird hopped towards the noise and stopped.

The squeaking also stopped.

She hopped forward a few paces.

The squeaking continued.

“QUARK! Who's there?” She began to feel nervous.

Suddenly, from out of the murk a hazy shape began to form. The Bird's eyes widened. The squeaking became stronger and the shape grew larger, until a large metallic dust-bin on wheels wobbled into view, coming to an abrupt halt in front of her.

In a state of panic, The Bird flew into the air, leaving a cloud of feathers in her wake until she landed heavily against the tunnel wall. She slid to the ground feeling foolish.

After The Little Bird had regained her composure she began to eye the dust-bin, cautiously turning her head from left to right.

“Humph!” she snorted, “to think I was frightened by a trash-can on wheels!”

She hopped closer, inspecting it from all sides.

She hopped closer still and pecked at the metal.

CLANG! CLANG! went the dust-bin.

She hopped back.

Nothing happened.

Jumping up onto the top she tried to remove the lid with her beak. Perhaps there would be food inside! The lid held fast.

The Little Blue Bird pecked at the lid with frustration: CLANG! CLANG ! CLANG !

..until..

“HELLO! HELLO!” rasped a voice from within.

The Bird screeched and catapulted herself into the air, claws slipping on metal and feathers flying once again like blue blossom, until she lay in a heap on the ground nearby. The voice continued:

“WELCOME LITTLE BIRD! WELCOME! THIS IS YOUUUUUR LUCKY DAY!”

She blinked and looked nervously about her. “Who?...Me?”

“YES YOU! I'M TALKING TO YOU! DON'T BE BASHFUL NOW.”

The Dust-bin spun round on its wheels to face her. A panel in the centre flipped open to reveal a T.V. screen. It flickered into life casting an artificial, green-yellow glow over the Bird. A spiky little face with pointed nose and pock-marked skin appeared. A toothy grin spread like slime.

“YOU WANNA KNOW WHY IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY BIRD?” yelled the creature, his mouth and teeth curling up like an accordion, “WELL I'M GONNA TELL YA!...IT'S YOUR LUCKY DAY BECAUSE YOU, AND ONLY YOU, HAVE WON A TRIP, ALL EXPENSES PAID...” The creature winked knowingly, “...TO THE PLACE OF YOUR DREAMS, WHERE FANTASY BECOMES REALITY, WHERE EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED CAN BE YOURS FOR THE TAKING!”

The face pressed itself to the screen.

“NOW DON'T CLOSE THE DOOR ON AN OPPORTUNITY OF A LIFE-TIME MY FRIEND, JUST TELL ME YOU'RE INTERESTED AND YOU WANT TO KNOW MORE!”

“Well, I..I..”

“I KNEW YOU HAD BRAINS! Screamed the creature, eyes aflame, “I KNEW THE MOMENT I SET EYES ON YOU, I SAID TO MYSELF, I SAID, THIS HERE IS NO BIRD-BRAIN, BUT A BOUNTIFUL BIRD OF PARADISE, DESTINED TO HAVE HER OWN DREAMS FULFILLED!”

All The Bird could hear was the harsh echo of the voice travelling down the tunnel. The light from the screen had suddenly dimmed. She blinked a few times as her eyes became used to the new gloom. With a whirr! and a click! the t.v. screen flipped back into the dust-bin and all was silent.

She held her breath and listened carefully. A soft, almost kindly voice could be heard from within the dust-bin itself:

“So, my precious little feathered friend, it's your only chance to take what's owed to you. And you HAVE been working sooooo hard,” it purred sweetly.

The Bird frowned. She HAD been working hard and it would be nice to take a break. She was a very special bird after all! But there was also something very, very strange about all this, and familiar too...Before she could get any further with her thoughts, there was a loud CLANG! and the dust-bin lid flew open.

“PLEASED TO MEET YOU BIRD!” Itr shrieked with arms spread wide, “THEY CALL ME THE STIX AND I'M YOUR HOST FOR TONIGHT!”

The Stix reached down with his white, spindly arms and scooped up The Bird, vanishing back into the depths of the dust-bin and wheeling away at top-speed, the sound of squeaking wheels becoming fainter and fainter.

It was as though nothing had ever set foot inside the tunnel and that nothing would again.

***

“What was THAT?” asked The Butterfly as it perched on top of The Tunneller's head.

He nodded and his brow wrinkled deeply. “That'll be The Stix. I recognise that laugh anywhere.”

“He sounded very happy,” replied The Butterfly, “as happy as someone who had just found an ocean of nectar.”

The Tunneller edged forward on his wheels, the lamp shining powerfully into the darkness.

“I don't think we've been in time my friend,” he mumbled sadly, “The Bird may already be in The Stix's hands, and not for the first time.”

“What does he want with her?” inquired The Butterfly.

The Tunneller sighed. “He wants to keep her for himself so that no-one ever finds her. That way, he can fill up the universe with only rubbish and darkness and we can’t have that. The sun must be allowed to have equal time to shine.”

Suddenly, The Tunneller saw a flash of blue in the light of his miners' lamp straight ahead of him, “Wait!” he exclaimed, “What's that?”

“Nectar?” replied The Butterfly hopefully.

“No..It's a feather!” shouted The Tuneller, pointing excitedly ahead. He picked it up and held it up to the beam of light, “Yes, it's The Bird's all right.”

“So where's the nectar then?” said The Butterfly, rolling it's tongue back and forth like a party blower.

“Now is not the time to think about nectar!”

“When is a good time?”

“When we find The Bird. Now, hold on...it's full speed ahead!”

The Tunneller and his colourful companion wheeled their way down yet another tunnel in search of their friend who was, at that very moment, travelling deeper and deeper towards the heart of the planet.

***

The Little Blue Bird bounced around the bottom of the dust-bin as it rolled up, and down, around and around the complex labyrinth. It was pitch-black inside, as hot as a furnace and smelt of rotten vegetables and burnt plastic. She was waiting for her moment to escape, but as yet, it had not come. As soon as the lid opened she would make her bid for freedom.

A voice from behind her, frighteningly close, whispered in a sneer:

“We're nearly there and boy are you gonna love it! Well you better, 'cause you ain't leaving anytime soon!”

“Let me out!” piped The Bird, “What do you mean by kidnapping me like this?”

“The Stix cackled delightedly, “You'll see, you'll see.”

All she could see were two yellow eyes staring back at her like strange candle flames. She wondered when The Tunneller would rescue her. He would surely know by now that something was w