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.....