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.....