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.....