Part 16: The Art of Web Making

Marvin spent the better part of the rest of the day working on his web. Normally it would only have taken him twenty minutes to throw something together, or half an hour if he was feeling adventurous. He knew quite a few web shapes and he liked to try new things. Today, however, was not about creativity. Marvin was simply feeling indecisive.

He had already tried a sheet web, but it was a clumsy thing and it covered the whole bottom of the shade. It was perfect for a lamp like this, though, because if a moth or fly flew in toward the bulb it would fall right into the web. Still, it was almost like a, well, like a sheet, and he was pretty sure Phil wouldn't go for it, so he simply tore down most of it and ate what he could. Which was actually quite a bit, though it left him feeling a bit full. He wanted to be sure he would have room for dinner, so that meant starting work on another web. He hung upside down and let out some thread, lowering himself away from the shade so that he could look up and around him. From here he admired the lamp's contours and thought.

Under ordinary circumstances, he built his web the way he wanted, in spite of the other inhabitants of the house. This time things were different. Phil would know Marvin was making webs, and therefore be aware of them, so Marvin wanted them to be as unobjectionable as possible.

Not that he had ever been inconsiderate in his household constructions. He had a clear vision regarding his webwork. His webs were a balance of ingenuity, practicality, creativity, and machination. He liked using the objects available; bookshelves were great spaces to work with. He liked the area between a desk and a wall, especially if there were cords and cables; there he could save on infrastructure and just string along some viscid threads without complicating the whole thing or covering a large surface. He liked to give his webs a personal touch, and he would sometimes decorate them with bits of pieces of things he found. But he was always careful about where he built. He didn't want his work to be easily discovered by people. That usually brought about a precipitous and rather unceremonious dismantling of the web, ruining a lot of hard work in a matter of seconds.

Most of the time he would simply make an old-fashioned spiral orb web and hope that it wouldn't be discovered until he could catch something. Frequently catching something would destroy the web. That was fine. That was it's purpose after all. And if it was discovered before that, there was still hope.

Orb webs actually worked well in houses because they tended to draw admiration from passers-by and therefore stood a better chance of lasting, whereas a space-web was horribly complex and took a while to put together properly. And because space-webs were all lumpy and concentrated, people never seemed to appreciate them for what they were, lumping them in the category of cobwebs. Marvin knew it was more complex than that. He knew cobwebs were more than just old abandoned webs. These were intricate creations, and some of them weren't abandoned at all, despite the concensus of most homeowners.

Marvin thought that the alternative name, tangle web, was more apt and might even have made people consider looking at it a bit more closely to appreciate the art involved. He doubted that would happen in the near future, though.

Marvin twirled around on his thread, watching the living room spin around him. Then he brought himself to a stop and looked around again.

The fact was that space-webs, even small ones, needed to be constructed somwhere they would last for a while: abandoned buildings, cellars, or - if they were to survive the comings and goings of people - high, remote corners where people wouldn't see them easily. Human beings had a neurotic habit of obliterating the entire web with a quick sweep of a broom or a dust cloth whenever it suddenly occurred to them to do any serious housecleaning.

Even Phil had ruined a fair number of perfectly functional cobwebs in these last few months, although that was before Marvin had officially introduced himself. Maybe now things would be different.

Anyway, cobwebs on the lamp were definitely out of the question, at least until he could talk it over with Phil. The ceiling lamp was still a possibility, though. He gazed up at it as he swung from his thread.

He climbed up into the table lamp, found a spoke of the shade holder that led right up to the top of the shade, and released his bridge thread from there. The bridge thread waved above the bulb and quickly attached itself to the opposite side of the shade. Marvin moved across the thread, pulling it tighter and reinforcing it with more silk.

Yes, for a first public showing, this needed to be classic. The orb web was the way to go on this one.

Marvin never understood this practice of housecleaning. He saw the utility in keeping the place dust-free. It was certainly better than those dust bunnies that accumulated in some people's houses. Those things he found frightening. But cleaning was overrated. Besides, if things got too dirty you could simply live life off the ground. 

Humans weren't very good at that sort of life, Marvin knew from experience. Even when they built these huge high buildings it seemed like they always walked on flat horizontal ground. You never saw people hanging from the walls or the ceiling. Well, not very often, anyway.

As his thoughts drifted, he spun and spun. First the anchors, then the radii, then the spirals, saving the sticky capture spiral for the end.

Before long, and almost without realizing it, he had finished. He let out a line and dropped down so he could get contemplate his work from another perspective.

It was pretty standard as webs went, yet he was surprised at how easily it had come. He would never have gone so far as to call it artistic expression, as it wasn't that at all. It had been much more spontaneous. He had simply let himself go.

After an entire afternoon of banging his head against the lampshade, he had finally done what he had needed to do the entire time, in little or no time at all.

"Hey, nice spiral," a voice from behind him said. Marvin looked over his shoulder. Phil was crouched behind him, looking up into the lampshade.

"Glad you like it. I was afraid it might be unwelcome." Marvin wrinkled his brow and looked up at Phil. "How's your gardening going?"

"Unwelcome? No, it's nice. I love that sort of web," answered Phil. "You planning to catch anything with it?"

"Depends on weather anything flies by. It's built for catching, if that's what you mean."

"I don't know what I mean. I was just trying to make conversation. It's not often I discuss webs, and less often with their creators." Phil scanned the web, carefully examining the structural details.

"And the garden?" Marvin reiterated.

"I pruned the peonies."

"Nice. I saw those the other day. Pretty spectacular."

"Thanks. I planted them for Jill years ago."

"Nice choice."

"Thanks. It took me forever to decide on what to get at the nursery. I spent the whole day there, choosing, changing my mind, changing my mind again. Finally, I gave up. On the way out I saw these strange-looking roots - I thought they were decorative wood things for a garden - and thought to ask one of the employees what they were. I bought them and planted them, and they grew. And they come back every year. And they're gorgeous."

"So you just let yourself go and randomly ended up picking one of the most beautiful flowers in the place?"

"I guess so. But don't think that sort of decision making works all the time."

Marvin shrugged.

"Sometimes it does."