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.....