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.....