Exitus

Wallace looked up towards the emptiness of the ceiling to calm his nerves. High up in the corners the small black spiders went about their business indifferent to what was happening below. From the blackness, number, and density of their webs they appeared to have been up there since the hall was first built. Wallace imagined these must be the wisest spiders in the world if learning was just exposure to thought. If only he had access to a fraction of the knowledge that they ignored every day in favour of concentrating on trapping hapless flies. He empathized with those flies, gripped in a sticky web. But his web was of his own weaving.