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.....