A 1

“I’ll show you.” Annabeth unslung her backpack. She took out Daedalus’s laptop and opened it.
The delta logo glowed in the dark.
build.”
“What is that?” Arachne asked. “Some sort of loom?”
“In a way,” Annabeth said. “It’s for weaving ideas. It holds a diagram of the artwork you would
Her fingers trembled on the keyboard. Arachne lowered herself to peer directly over Annabeth’s
shoulder. Annabeth couldn’t help thinking how easily those needlelike teeth could sink into her neck.
She opened her 3-D imaging program. Her last design was still up—the key to Annabeth’s plan,
inspired by the most unlikely muse ever: Frank Zhang.
Annabeth did some quick calculations. She increased the dimensions of the model, then showed
Arachne how it could be created—strands of material woven into strips, then braided into a long
cylinder.
The golden light from the screen illuminated the spider’s face. “You want me to make that? But
this is nothing! So small and simple!”
“The actual size would be much bigger,” Annabeth cautioned. “You see these measurements?
Naturally it must be large enough to impress the gods. It may look simple, but the structure has
incredible properties. Your spider silk would be the perfect material—soft and flexible, yet hard as
steel.”
“I see…” Arachne frowned. “But this isn’t even a tapestry.”
“That’s why it’s a challenge. It’s outside your comfort zone. A piece like this—an abstract
sculpture—is what the gods are looking for. It would stand in the entry hall of the Olympian throne
room for every visitor to see. You would be famous forever!”
Arachne made a discontented hum in her throat. Annabeth could tell she wasn’t going for the
idea. Her hands started to feel cold and sweaty.