Short Story: The Spider-wasp Dilemma

Short Story: The Spider-wasp Dilemma

My morals were tested yesterday (surprisingly) by a particularly large wasp and a patient, rather small spider. Reading a book, I was distracted by the sudden panic-inducing drone of a wasp which tore through my window, to then collide with each of the four walls, that together form the warm confines of my room. Eventually the confused insect re-found the open portal, only to repeatedly rebound off the transparent glass – failing to make the left turn after which a centimetres flight would grant freedom. Instead, the wasp made a potentially fatal right, landing itself successfully stuck in a superbly located web.

Stupid creature.

I had been observing this frenetic journey with interest, (and, admittedly, with an element of childish fear) so was a little amazed to be presented with such a profound moral dilemma: should I release the (what I imagined to be) terrified wasp or allow the tiny ambitious spider (who was now skipping excitedly across his cunningly weaved pathways) a gigantic winged feast.

Though in retrospect it seems somewhat bizarre to have so many conflicting thought processes erupt in my brain with such immediacy, the following possibilities occurred to me in a split second:

To interfere in anyway at all would be an act against natural flow – disrupting a food chain predating the existence of humanity itself. Contradictory to the first point, my presence and ability to intercede is just as natural as the food chain I would interrupt. He wouldn’t be the first spider to miss out on a meal due to a fumbling mammal breaking the trap he so carefully weaved – though a stumbling sheep’s leg is again different to my deliberate, analysed intervention (we won’t get too convoluted with philosophy though, I’d rather not start questioning whether the world is just a fictitious construct of my slumbering brain which will finish alongside my final breath, releasing me into a greater awareness of reality, transcending common laws, forms and principles. Leave that to Plato and the other bearded greasy geeks…Greeks). Were I to save the wasp, perhaps the spider would then die of starvation. If I left the wasp, however, the small spider could be overpowered (the thing with a sting was similar in proportion to a medium sized bird) and killed in the ensuing battle. The wasp would also expire eventually, glued tight on the brink of his sunny domain. If I let that happen I may as well join in with the torturous techniques of Chinese shark fishing. Not something I could ever willingly condone.The wasp could, if released, then go off and sting some small overly inquisitive child allergic to its venom – making me the unwitting accomplice to murder. If the spider did die prematurely of starvation, perhaps within its arachnid genetics a mutation had occurred by which it produced a powerful new antibiotic with the ability to enhance life and cure diseases – the discovery of which I prevented through denying it the nourishment to extend its lifespan long enough to fall into the delighted hands of an enlightened scientist. I was being ridiculous.

Sometimes in life we are presented with decisions that appear to have no concrete correct answer. The right way to turn isn’t always signposted “Next Left”. In such cases, our conscience is often the only map we have – it is this compassionate instinct which gives us our humanity. And though it doesn’t necessarily provide simple guidance, we should always be thankful for (what I would argue) the natural ability to sympathise with other people and animals.

Therefore, I found the nearest implement and prodded the struggling wasp out the window.

I guess I will have to deal with the consequences, and if there is some kind of judgement at the end of my days I’m sure whoever is in charge will understand. The ungrateful bastard did sting me on the way out though. Next time, wasp, you’re on your own mate.