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.....