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.....