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.....