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.....