A Case of Need

by Michael Crichton

I said, “You’re with Bradford’s firm, is that it?” “Yes. I was hired a little over a year ago.” I nodded. “It was the usual thing,” Wilson said. “They gave me a good office with a view out to the reception desk, so that people coming in and out could see me. That kind of thing.” I knew what he was saying, but I still felt a twist of irritation. I had several friends who were young lawyers, and none of them had gotten an office of any kind for several years after joining a firm. By any objective standard, this young man was lucky, but it was no good telling him that, because we both knew why he was lucky—he was a kind of freak, a product which society had suddenly deemed valuable, an educated Negro. His horizons were now open and his future was good. But he was still a freak.