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.....