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.....