THE  SPIRE             
  
  ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A     
   BENEVOLENT SPIRE, TOWERING WELL  
  ABOVE OUR TALLEST  TREES. IT WAS  
  CLAD IN WHITE SCALES, AND SHAPED  
         LIKED  A  MUSHROOM.        
       WE  LOVED  IT  DEARLY.       
  
  IT PREDATED  US BY  MANY  YEARS,  
  AND WE DID NOT KNOW ITS ORIGINAL  
   BUILDERS. THEY  HAD  USED  ITS   
  HOLLOW  BODY  FOR  MANY STRANGE   
   PURPOSES -  A WOMBLIKE PLACE OF  
  GESTATION, A STORAGE  OF STRAGE   
  FLUIDS, A TEMPLE TO SOME KIND OF  
     ARCANE    DEITY.               
  
   WE  WERE  GRATEFUL  FOR   ITS    
   PRESENCE, AND  HONORED  IT  THE  
   ONLY  WAY  WE  KNEW  HOW:  BY    
         BREAKING        IN.        
  
                                          
                                          
  
   THIS PLACE WE CALLED OUR CITY:   
  WAVY  AND  FRACTURED, WITH EACH   
  COURTYARD ON A DIFFERENT HEIGHT,  
   ROADS  BECOMING ROOFS  BECOMING  
   DRAINS. AND  SOME  PLACES, LIKE  
  THE SPIRE,  NOBODY  HAD ACCESSED  
  FOR MANY YEARS.  ONCE  ITS WALLS  
   ARE  JUST  TOO  HIGH,  AND THE   
  INTERNAL ROUTES TO LABYRINTHINE,  
  A PLACE AMONG  OTHERS IS  EASILY  
             OVERLOOKED.            
  
  SO, BASICALLY, THAT  SUMMER THE   
  FOUR OF US SNUCK AND CLIMBED AND  
  CRAWLED FOR WEEKS, SEARCHING FOR  
  A SECLUDED PLACE TO DO DRUGS AND  
  PLAY MUSIC  ON OUR HANDHELDS.     
   INSTEAD  WE  FOUND  VAST LUNGS   
   DRAINED   OF  THEIR   CATALYST   
  SLUDGE, AND A BIRDS-EYE VIEW  TO  
  MAKE SENSE  OF OUR ROAMINGS FOR   
        YEARS   TO   COME.          
  
   A  CENTRAL SPINE, A  STAIRCASE   
  AROUND IT,  THE  SEVEN TOROIDAL   
  LUNGS STACKED  OUTSIDE,  AND THE  
  CONTROL ROOM ON TOP. THE SOCKETS  
  FOR ITS EYES. THE SMALLER SPIRES  
    FOR  RADIATING  CONSCIOUSNESS   
            INVITATIONS.            
  
                                          
  
  IN TWENTY FOURTEEN, THE TOWER IS  
  TOPPLED AND  EATEN  BY MACHINES.  
   AFTER A WHILE, SOMETHING NEW IS  
   CONJURED  IN ITS PLACE. IT'S A   
  TINY MAW AT  FIRST, SHORTER THAN  
   US,  AND  WE  LET  IT  BE.  OUR  
  JOURNEYS STILL END AT ITS  FEET.  
  
   BUT  THEN WE ARE  BETRAYED. THE  
  NEW TOWER EATS  US.  OTHERS ARE   
  SUCKED INSIDE. NEW BUILDINGS ARE  
   MANIFESTED  OVERNIGHT, ONLY  TO  
   DISAPPEAR IN  THE EVENING FOG.   
   FOR A WHILE  ITS  SOME  KIND OF  
  TIMESHARE SCAM. GOONS ARE PLACED  
   OUTSIDE, AND WE GET BEATEN UP A  
   FEW  TIMES,  AND  STOP  GOING.   
  
   IIRC  IT'S  CURRENTLY OWNED BY   
  SOME ENERGY DRINK BARON WHO USES  
  IT TO HOLD  ALL HIS FOURTY EIGHT  
              CARS.....