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.....