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.....