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.....