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.....