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.....