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.....