The judge nodded slowly. She walked to the property line, looked at the narrow gap between Arthur’s cube and the Bubble. She turned to the contractor. “Could you dig by hand?”

On the last day, they stood together in the center of the sphere as the sun set. The new seam glowed faintly gold in the fading light.

Arthur’s brief peace evaporated. “Then I’ll have to take legal action. You’ve effectively condemned my foundation.”

“I’ve given you a negotiation,” she said, smiling softly. “You’ve just chosen to see it as a threat.”

“All shapes create impossible angles, Arthur,” she said. “Your cube creates impossible corners where dust and silence collect. My sphere creates this. The question isn’t whose shape is right. It’s what we build inside the space between them.”

The judge returned. They presented their plan. She looked from Arthur to Mrs. Gable, then nodded once. “Approved.”

The judge sighed. She looked at Arthur, then at Mrs. Gable. “I’m going to recess for one hour,” she said. “When I return, I expect you two to have found a solution. I don’t care if it involves a pulley system and a team of trained badgers. Fix it.”

“Mr. Pindle,” she said, peering at the Bubble. “You claim this structure is interfering with a necessary repair to your home’s foundation?”