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.....