Its been years since anyone of us last went up to the surface.
Not that anyone really wanted to go out anyway. The Tunnels had everything we ever needed: food, shelter and the companionship of others. The Council was efficient and organised. Though we all had roles to play to ensure that our lives in the Tunnel could continue the way it was, life here was one of leisure. We were free to pursue whatever hobbies it is we wish to pick up once our duty was over. We never had to starve. We each even have our own space to escape to should we prefer solitude. We are safe here. Or so I am constantly told.
Everyone in the Tunnels can still remember how life was like before we were confined in the depths of the earth. While they often told me they missed the warmth of the sun, the smell of the sea, the sound of birds chirping, nobody seems to want to go out and seek out these experiences again. They were content to just stay in here, surrounded by foreign faces which they soon came to recognise as family.
As for me, I cannot remember anything at all. All I know is that when I woke up, I was already here in the Tunnels. A maze of seemingly never-ending dimly lid corridors, its rough, cave-like walls juxtaposed by metallic doors. I have never been up to the surface, not since I have woken up in here anyway. And while the Council did not seem to really have any guidelines governing the entering and exiting of the Tunnels, back out to the surface, there seems to be just one rule: I am not allowed to be let out to the surface.