Why We Love Right Angles We know the roundnesses of space: orb, sphere, ellipse, the surprise plumage of a full spectrum vortex. Divorced before my baby was one, I dove headlong into a distant moon. Every man-made thing was as nothing to that weightlessness. Her eyes were twin nebulae spinning ancient light— belly and cheeks, ample as galaxies. The expanding universe neither decelerates nor reverses, as previously expected. Dark energy sends everything flying away from everything else at ever greater speeds. At 16, my child is almost entirely angle dependent. She attaches, cyborglike, to cell phone, automobile, cigarette pack, and the occasional unspoken rectangle of an alien bed. But I’ve changed too. My second husband squares off corners with right-angled gadgetry. I sit at center point, entertained; a silent co-conspirator in the slaughter. Ellen Bihler prev