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.....