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.....