DUMBs: a testament
A short story, not entirely unrelated to the imminent US election, by Habib William Kherbek
Read Habib William Kherbek’s new book FAIL WORSE: a satire of autofiction published by Arcadia Missa.
DUMBs: a testament
I started to wonder about the mole children. It was coming up on three years since they were liberated from the hells of the deep underground military bunkers, the DUMBs on the orders of The President. Then they spent all those months on the military ships in New York harbour recovering from their ordeal. That was all more than two full years ago now. So I started to wonder what had become of them. Where were they now? What were they doing? Were some of them in school? Were the White Hats still trying to rehabilitate them? Were they all dead?
I made it my business to find out about the Mole Children.
I know some of you reading this might not know the full story of the Mole Children. It’s complicated. There are different stories circulating. It’s hard to know who to trust. I sympathise. But what you need to know is that when Q began posting he revealed a shadow world that was bubbling just beneath the world we see, one where the innocent are sacrificed for the whims of the powerful. The Mole Children were an extreme example of this: children born underground in the DUMBs, bred like battery fowl for their adrenochrome. Never in their young lives did they see the light of day, that’s what made them ‘Mole Children’, deformed visual cortices, eyes sunken back in their sockets from the light deprivation. The purest victims of the Cabal. They’d been in the DUMBs for years, and the President spent the first years of his term working to find them. One day, in 2019, they were found. Patriots documented the whole thing on the boards. I’m sure I saw video at the time, but I can’t find it now when I go back to look. That doesn’t surprise me, the Deep State would have scrubbed it all years ago. They take everything else from us, why not our memories too?
It can be hard to think about sometimes, that network of endless tunnels everywhere across the USA and into Mexico where the cartels help to smuggle the kids for the Cabal. It’s like some big system of blood vessels deep in the earth pumping evil through the veins of America, through everything, every news story, every event, every thought, every act. Even the things you might still love about America, those veins were underneath it, pumping out darkness, turning good to evil.
Some of you will know all of this of course. And if you do, you’ll know the next steps I took to find out what had happened to those poor little ones. I checked the boards. Opinions were all over the place. Whatever you’d read was undone by what you read next. All of the different mutually contradicting posts had incontrovertible evidence for their position, refuting all others. I read for hours, maybe days even, it was Christmas and I lost track of time. Whatever the truth was, the only thing that seemed certain to me was that the Deep State had penetrated both sides of the discussion. Typical. It’s how they operate, play both sides, make you look like a fool.
I was going to be on my own with this one. It wasn’t the first time.
Reasoning it out, if the Mole Children had been rescued in 2020, and given that they were all children at the time - and, on top of that, most of them would have to have been pretty young, especially when you consider how the whole adrenochrome harvesting process works - they’d still be young, very young. School age or thereabout. None of them would be in a position to be living alone, not least when you consider the trauma they would have undergone down deep in those labyrinthine tunnels under Washington. The question was whether any of them would have been recovered enough to have been reintegrated into the school system. I thought maybe I’d ask at my local primary schools, whether anyone had maybe tried to enroll them on the sly, not to get the media involved. I could offer to teach myself, and I’d do it in a second. I ran my own business for a while, so I could teach them more than just reading and writing and arithmetic. I could teach them about the free market, and the constitution, about the freedoms we all take for granted. But how would I start? It would be easy enough if I found a teacher who was sympathetic and who might be able to check into the records of children who’d recently been enrolled, but it was high risk. There would be no way the Deep State would ever let them be integrated into public schools, they already knew too much. They’d be walking targets every day.I have to say, this line of thinking made me reconsider some of the ideas I’d had previously about some of the more prominent school shootings. There were so many possible angles. Plus, the Deep State has probably vetted every single teacher in the public school system at some level or other. They’d rat me out in a second. Besides, private schools and religious schools would be the most likely place The President and the White Hats would want to use to rehabilitate the Mole Children. After all, they’re not totally captured by the Woke Agenda, and they haven’t been stopped from praying in school, or teaching about the Bible yet.
The problem for me was that the main religious schools in my vicinity are Catholic schools, and you can’t trust Catholics as a rule. Especially not with this woke Pope.
So schools were maybe a good last resort, but I couldn’t start there. And let’s face it, if some strange fifty-five year old came up to me, even if I was a Bible-believing teacher who understood the situation, and started asking me about kids who’d recently been enrolled, I know that’d raise suspicions. So I thought I should get back to first principles. What did I know was true? What was certain?
The first thing, well the last thing, I know for sure was that they’d been on those hospital ships in New York. The President was still in office when the tunnels were liberated. The ships appeared in the harbour right after the liberation. There was no way they were unrelated. Those were facts, but then everything got kind of blurry during the Plandemic. Nobody seemed to know what was really going on during that time. The Deep State was clearly working overtime on the boards. Story, counter story. Even the President. I never fully understood why they made him keep saying that he was responsible for the vaccine, probably they threatened his youngest. Or his oldest. Or probably all of them. Whatever the real story was, I tuned out of the day to day then, lost track of things. Got pretty good at whittling, but it’s not time for that now.
So even in that blurry timeline, some things you can count on, and one of them was that The President was one of the Good Guys. He has his flaws. We all do, but you can just see him, the smile that comes on his face when he sees someone with a pure soul, a child or a soldier. He may shoot his mouth off sometimes, but his heart is in the right place. And so even if the Deep State had a bead on his youngest, and even if he was so lost in the workings of Washington himself that he ended up taking that vaccine himself, whatever the story was, I knew he wouldn’t’ve let the Mole Children become a casualty of his bigger war to make our country great again. In fact, whatever he was planning, I was sure the Mole Children would be at the heart of it. So, being confident of the President’s character like I was, I reasoned that The President would surely have gotten them off the boats before The Steal happened.
Of course, he wouldn’t have expected the Deep State would be so ruthless. I’m sure until the minute he thought the White Hats would somehow intervene. But maybe he had too much faith in people.
But I came back to character. Even in the midst of all that chaos with The Steal and the Plandemic, I knew there was no way that a man like him would just leave them to certain death, especially after having gone through the trouble of rescuing them. Even though he had his own problems, I can’t believe he’d be that preoccupied. So they would have been removed, but where? And when?
There was one day that made more sense than any other about when they might have been moved: January 6th 2021. The president probably staged that whole kerfuffle at the capital just to get the mole children off the boats safely away from the eyes of the media, who would just report their new locations to the Deep State so they could exact revenge. When I think what they’ve put him through since then, I think of what a high price he’s paid for that choice. But everything comes at a price. I found that out too. When I got hit with a 50,000 dollar medical bill, back before the wife left me - not unrelated - but I had to face up to that price, and that was part of the discovery process, so in a way, despite the lien that’s on my income, I’m grateful for it. It showed me the rot inside of everything. I’d be on the phone with people, insurers, the hospital, the investment company that owned the hospital, and the one that owned the insurers. The people I talked to didn’t even seem to understand the problem, even though it was supposed to be their jobs to understand and solve these kind of problems. It was like they deliberately didn’t or weren’t allowed to understand. Like the whole world was turned inside out, kind of like a glove where you turn it so the lining is facing the outside. You can put it over your opposite hand and it’ll fit, maybe it wouldn’t be completely comfortable, and depending on what was on the inside of the glove, it might look kind of silly, but you could get used to it. I got used to it. Once you see the world in that way, after you’ve learned to read things inside out, a lot of things that seemed like they might be impossible seem a lot more possible. Even likely. You can’t explain it to someone who doesn’t understand, or who won’t. That’s part of the problem now, different people have different ways of knowing things, and then there’s a deeper difference that comes from that and that grows over time.
The boards are a place where the meaning of that difference gets decided, but they’re as much about belief as any of the rest of it. You have to think about what you want to believe, what the consequences of that wanting might be. For me, I wanted to believe the Mole Children were safe. All hidden away, maybe in the portal that people say Baby Trump came through, or maybe they were in the space through which the two JFKs had passed. It’s something you could believe. To be honest, I don’t know enough about physics to comment about that kind of a scenario, and besides, the Deep State has NASA stacked with its people. It has since the ‘landing’ in 69. But the problem was that even if these other dimensions did exist, and even if The President had access to them, the Mole Children were most likely to still be in this dimension. Think of how hard it would be to make them feel comfortable being put in another dimension especially having spent the entirety of their young lives down in the DUMBs being harvested. What would they think if they were exposed to entirely other dimensions? The shock alone might kill them.
No, I decided. If there were somewhere, they were still here with us, in the three dimensions we know, and some of us know too well. But there’s a lot of territory in this dimension. Thinking about it seriously, I realised that there was probably only one place where the president could know for sure that the Mole Children would be safe, and where they could be reintegrated into the world as a pace that would suit them, where they could be educated away from the prying eyes of the media and the brainwashed teachers. They’d be at The President’s house in Florida.
I wanted to see them, just once. Just to let them know that as dark as it all was, there were people, normal people, who cared about them, who worried for them, who love them. And so I bought a bus ticket down to Florida from where I’m from up here in Berlin, Pennsylvania. I started writing this all out so that if something happens to me along the way, if the Deep State, or the Cabal or whoever comes for me, there will be some kind of record. I’m going to post this on my Facebook as soon as the bus pulls up in Palm Beach. I feel a lot of hope right now, because I know I’m getting close. Both to the truth, and to those precious little ones. I start to well up even when I think of The President among them, their faces all covered in tears as they nuzzle up to him, kissing him. Knowing that they’re in the presence of a man who cares, and who sacrificed nearly everything on their behalf. And then I think of The President himself with a huge smile on his face, knowing in his heart, as he looks into the hundreds of grateful faces around him just how much good he’s truly done.