The wind in the tunnel they were in was much stronger than anywhere else they'd visited so far that day. It smelled more of New York above ground, crisp and cold with the tang of Manhattan traffic. Peter was sure he'd been away from it at least twelve hours now, and he could say honestly that he had not missed it.
The tunnel looked almost natural, with the stone having a rough hewn look to it, but Peter couldn't help but notice that it was almost entirely circular and almost unnaturally straight. All along the walls and floor of the tunnel, were hardy wooden roots buried deep into the stone. They were spaced just enough to give good, solid footing in the tunnel against the howling wind.
Caliban had been grinning as they walked, the rushing air pushing at them roughly and causing their clothes to flutter continuously. It was too loud to be heard if they were to speak, but they only walked through the tunnel for a few hundred yards of distance before Caliban had beckoned Peter to a closed makeshift metal hatch and led them through it.
Caliban easily shouldered the hatch shut once more, cutting off the roar of the wind. He blinked his massive eyes and coughed roughly, the wind had clearly dried him out, before looking towards Peter, "We call that tunnel 'Pandemonium'."
"I can see why," Peter replied, croaking a bit before he swallowed a few times to wet his throat once more.
"Most people do not like using it for obvious reasons, but it runs parallel to a large part of the tunnel system that we occupy, so it is one of the fastest ways to go places," Caliban explained as they continued walking into the new, much calmer tunnel they were in.
"Why is it so windy?" Peter asked.
"When we first settled in the tunnels, we had a mining engineer with us. He knew how ventilation worked." Caliban explained. "We made new tunnels that connected to buildings and subways. The air loops through the tunnels keeps it from getting stale. It stays warm in the winter and cool in the summer."
"Did the air need to be that fast?"
"He always claimed it had to be that fast to make sure it would get through the entire tunnel system without any extra fans to help it along." Caliban grinned. "I think he just got the calculations wrong and didn't want to admit it."
"Well, that does explain some things," Peter admitted in a mutter and realized he was hearing noises further down the tunnel. This offshoot of the Pandemonium tunnel had more of the roots snaking across the ground and seemed to be getting thicker as the walked, making finding his footing tougher. "So where are we going now?"
"The Grove." Caliban replied. "We used to call it the Solarium, but you'll see why it's the Grove now."
The earthy scents from the Alley, and the citrusy, fruity scents from the dining area were getting stronger. The tunnel itself was growing even wider, until they came into an area that was the most brightly lit place he'd seen since coming here.
Caliban squinted his immense eyes and put a hand over his brow ridges to help shade them. Peter had to squint as well as his eyes adjusted.
"Our friend who made the ventilation tunnels, also rigged up mirrors to get sunlight down here no matter the time of year." Caliban's voice had a distinct pride to it. "Couldn't quite get it all the way to the Alley, especially not during Winter, but it is good for this place."
Peter blinked a few more times to get the glare out of his eyes and he saw that the chamber was larger than he'd thought. The chamber was a rough sphere, around fifty feet in diameter. The walls looked like a reverse disco ball as mismatched, cracked and irregularly shaped mirrors studded every bit of open space. No two mirrors looked alike, but every single one was polished to a high sheen. Almost every single mirror shone with bright sunlight, sending rays of light careening all throughout the space.
There were a few people flying or climbing up the walls, polishing and repositioning the mirrors as they went.
In the central area of the chamber was a massive tree that all the roots they'd been walking past connected to. It seemed to fill almost the entire space, with branches weaving all through the chamber. The branches seemed to be densely packed with leaves laying directly on the branches.
The fruits they'd had for breakfast hung plentifully among the branches. More people, Morlocks all, nimbly climbed and clambered across the tree's branches, plucking the fruits and storing them in burlap sacks before letting them down by rope where they were gathered into crates to be loaded into push carts and wheelbarrows.
Where branches had fallen, a few others, mostly children, gathered them up and pulled them over to a work table where several people worked with knives and sandpaper to carve them into the familiar bowls and cups they had used during breakfast.
Deeply nestled within the branches on the central trunk of the tree, Peter was able to pick out a man. The branches snaked out from where his knees and elbows should have been, continuing unbroken from his limbs into the tree itself. His skin seemed to be made of wood and he had on a coat and a set of jeans, both of which had been ripped to shreds at the point where the branches met his body. Despite the hustle and bustle all around, he could hear the man snoring, because the leaves of the tree seemed to rustle in time with his breathing.