There is a cute but ordinary village somewhere between the fields. Happy families, sad families, singles. Children play in the backyards or meet at street corners for mor mischief. You see bicycles and roller skaters, and a few cars.
Over centuries, the area was considered to be a kind of treasure chest. Salt was wrestled from the ground, brought to the surface and cleaned, and sold on for high prices. It was dangerous work and an easy way to get rich. The ground is drilled full of holes, like Swiss cheese. But everything is stable, there's barely any geological movement. The people here are familiar with the history of the place. The houses have been built to withstand the changes. They have been assured it's harmless.
These are normal people with normal lives. They came here for everyday experiences. The shop in the center of the village has been here for many years, and although modern supermarkets offer their items at lower prices and have greater variety on the shelves, most people stay here for groceries. It's a friendly neighborhood, and people watch out for each other. The next bigger town is not too far away - with good schools, a cinema, shopping malls and a university clinic. This is good, the children in the village tend to be ill.
On most days, the sun is shining. There's a forest to the east, with trees older than the church around which the village was built. A river runs through it, circles the village and resumes its way to the sea.
It is the perfect place to be happy.
Yet, someone has put something in the ground. Not secretly - there have been announcements and discussions. The decisions had been subject to intense political debate. Experts have come and assured that the people in the village would be perfectly safe.
And they had no reason not to believe them.
Now water is eating its way through the layers of salt and stone, into the caves, and through the layers of metal containing what was put down here. Changes are coming.
They said it was safe.