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.....