Crouched, packed tight as maggots we waited, the air alive with expectation, all legs optimally positioned to feel the vibes, all eyes fixed on the time-spinner. Every click-tock thrilled the silk as the second arm crawled its way upward, edging towards midnight and the stroke of eight.

I look up from the webzine, my eyes on stalks. I knew they’d never put the whole truth out there, but this mother-sucking hyperbole’s making my leg-hairs prickle. It’s bad news, badly written, but it means something far worse for me, the last male hanging. A flash of silver, like a thousand moons, and the Spoke-sister appeared silhouetted at the apex, her bulbous body bristling matte-black and enormous. The fly-wing Amulets of State, glistened iridescent as she hung suspended in time and space, then hurled herself down, stopping dead at the exact centre of the magnificent Uberweb. Truly, this structure is the only creation in the world-wide web, fit to facilitate such a species-defining moment as the first Bi-gender Parliament. A pale, post-glow half-light illuminated the proceedings as the music started – magnificent fluid-music – like the death-throws of a million flies. How we clicked! The entire Senette! A storm-force frenzy of click-response so tumultuous, it was later reported by city sisters that they could feel the tremor octometers away.
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