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.....