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.....