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.....