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.....