He turned to the papers on his desk. The weather forecast—fair, no change in temperature. He looked at his own forecast of power requirements for the present day, shown as a red line plotted on graph paper. In the early morning hours the curve was lowest, for then the only demands were from the twenty-four-hour industries and an occasional night-hawk. The red line mounted as (from long experience) he had made allowance for early risers snapping on their lights. It jumped suddenly around seven-thirty as daytime industries took over, and thousands of housewives plugged in percolators and toasters. It stayed high until noon, dropped suddenly for the midday lull, rose at one o’clock, and mounted to its peak at five-thirty when in the winter twilight millions of lights came on. Beneath the forecast curve, plottings in colored pencil showed the distribution of load among the many power-houses, allowance made for repair work in progress, depleted water reserves, and a hundred other factors.

This was the forecast, but any unforeseen happening would disturb it. If a sudden cloud appeared, twenty thousand office-workers might casually turn on the lights, and the L. D. was responsible that those unexpected lights should neither flicker nor be dim. If the evening was warmer than usual, five thousand old ladies might decide not to plug in the electric heater, and the L. D. was responsible that this unused energy did not flood the system and disarrange the delicate continuous process in operation at the Consolidated Paper Mill.

Nevertheless, the L. D., sitting at his desk, was not busy that morning. Like all first-class executives he arranged that assistants handled the routine, and he held himself for emergencies and long-time planning. And this year had been easy. As often, he thought of the paradox in which he was involved. In the long run, not only Power-Light but also the whole state depended upon the water furnished by the great winter storms; yet these indispensable storms were his chief problem, and sometimes he caught himself, against all rationality, wishing for a dry year.

Yes, this was an easy season, so far. The November rains had caused little trouble; in fact they had been a help rather than otherwise, for they had shown up a few weak places which had since been made strong. But eventually something would happen. No need to say that he had a hunch or felt it in his bones. Sooner or later, it was a mere matter of record, the storm struck.