Tuning the Dome

My needle claws gripped the central metal shaft of the propped umbrella, peering up into the taut labyrinth of radiating steel stretchers. A cavern this grand demanded acoustic calibration! Reaching toward the stiffest rib, I plucked the black wire with the razor tip of my longest finger. A crisp metallic ping shivered through the dome, answered instantly by a deep, reverberating thrum from the stretched polyester skin. Crawling upside down along the central runner on my jointed spider legs, I tested each rib in turn. Where one stretcher rattled loose, I wedged a discarded metal paperclip into the hinge, tightening the pivot until every strike rang out in sharp, triumphant resonance.