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.....