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.....