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.....