We Are Spinners

Diego has produced three tiny foam legs, ready for coating.

They lie on the bench.

The real legs have gone back to the Chem Lab, for a whizz in the whizzer.

Daniel O'Connell regards the foam legs. They look like his own legs, but less green.

At a pinch, says Daniel O'Connell, I could use them without any coating.

No, says Diego. That would ruin my project. You must wait for the metal.

Whose legs are they? demands Daniel O'Connell.

They're the property of the University de La Laguna, says Diego.

He's right, says Gaius. Your own legs were the model for these legs.

We spiders don't think like you do, says Daniel O'Connell. We are spinners.

Arthur likes this explanation of why spiders don't think like we do.

So does Kong.

They stick up for Daniel O'Connell.

Kong first. The voice of Confucian wisdom.

You can make as many foam legs as you please, says Kong. You have a mould now.

You think the University is made of money? says Diego. This foam is special.

Arthur goes next.

Achoo!

A creditable fake sneeze by Arthur.

The legs rise, float in the air for a second, and disperse like dandelion seeds into the air of the Eng and Tech lab, dropping in various places, mingling with fragments of experimental detritus, and dropped crumbs of yesterday's lunch.

Good try, Arthur.

Was that a fake sneeze? asks Diego.

Yes, says Arthur, giving Diego the blue look that always melted his mother.

It works. (It always works).

Diego rejigs his world view, as to what is important.

And pours more University foam into the leg moulds.

It's three thirty, plus several minutes.

Arthur's phone rings. It's Sweezus.

We've landed, says Sweezus. Where are you guys?

At the University de La Laguna, says Arthur. Catch a taxi.

Okay. How's the patient?

Getting new legs. Maybe foam, maybe metal.

Gruesome! Hey. Is Baby Pierre there?

No. He's with you.

Shit. No he isn't.

He'll turn up. He'll cadge a lift with someone.

Yeah I guess. Maybe we should wait here.

No come. Just leave a message.

......

Every time Baby Pierre tries to look up at the Departures board, his Sancho Panza hat gets in the way.

He tips it backwards. It falls off behind him.

That's not the weird part. That part is science.

This is the weird part.

It keeps returning to its proper place on his head.

Come on, Baby Pierre, there must be a logical explanation.

The next time it falls off, turn round quickly. Find out what the cause is.

He tips his hat backwards. It falls off. He turns round quickly.