Illustrator: Sanford KossinTHE
BIG TOMORROW
BY PAUL LOHRMAN
There are certain rare individuals in this world who seem bereftof all common sense. These are the people who set their eyes uponan objective and immediately all intelligence, logic, good advice,unsolvable problems, and insurmountable obstacles go completelyby the boards. The characters we refer to are obviously justplain stupid. What they want to do, just can't be done. The objectivesthey have in mind are unachievable and anyone with anounce of brains can tell them so and give them good reasons. Theyare usually pretty sad cases and often land in the funny house.But then again, some of them go out and discover new worlds.
He hadn't gotten any work donethat morning. He'd spentmost of the time pacing the floorof his small back office, and therest of it at the window—handsclasped behind his somewhatbowed back—staring up into thecloudless sky.
At ten-forty, the intercombuzzed. He snapped the switch.
"Yes?"
"I've got those figures, Mr.Lake. We have nine—"
"Maybe you'd better come inand tell me personally, Lucy."
"All right, Mr. Lake."
The intercom snapped off anda few moments later a girl enteredthe office—if the prim little wispthat was Lucy Crane could beso generously classified.
Joshua Lake stared at the elongatedbun of black hair on the topof her head as she came toward hisdesk. There was an odd streak ofrich imagination in Joshua Lakeand he always felt Lucy Crane'sbun was a symbol of disapproval."Sit down, Lucy. You use up toomuch energy."
"I try to do my job, Mr. Lake."
"You do that—and more.What are the figures, Lucy?"
"We're in desperate shape. Wehave nine thousand, four hundredand twenty dollars in the payrollaccount. That leaves it over fivethousand short. There is onlyabout two thousand in GeneralDisbursements, but that isn'tenough to cover invoices due tomorrow.I'm afraid—"
"Don't be afraid, Lucy. That'snegative. If we waste our timesitting around shivering, we won'tmake any progress at all."
"I didn't mean it that way,Mr. Lake. I'm not shivering. I wasmerely stating that we haven'tgot enough money."
"Then I'll go to the bank andget some more."
"Of course, Mr. Lake. Is thatall?"
"Yes, that's all, Lucy. You runon to lunch."
"You aren't going out?"
"No. I'm not hungry today."
Her bun bobbed in disapprovalas she left the office. Joshua Lakestared at the closed door andsighed. Lucy knew exactly howthings were. She wasn't one to befooled. But Joshua hoped the restof the personnel were not so perceptive.The engineers and thedraftsmen particularly. They couldall walk out at noon and be workingsomewhere else by one o'clock,what with the huge current industrialdemand.
He walked again to the window;an old man; bone-weary, with theweight of his sixty-odd years bendinghis shoulders like a brick-carrier'shod.
"Then I'll go to the bank and getsome more." He hadn't even fooledhimself this time. His chances atthe bank were nil. Less than nil.His very presence there could tipthe balance of their decision. Loanscould be called; the doors lockedbefore nightfall.
At the window, he lowered hiseyes from the sky and looked tothe gate that led into the horseshoesweep of low buildings andback to the great, bulking hangarwhere precious work was beingdone.
A man and his dream, Lakemused.
He could see only the