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.....