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.....