Deadline Y2K by Mark Joseph

midnight. Staying home was a good idea for anyone with a family.
    He heard a burst of noise in the corridor and peeked out to see the public relations director Jody Maxwell slumped against the wall and uttering sighs and growls of irritation.
    Jody had dressed her plump, expressive body in pale green Armani for her press conference with the bank’s chief financial officer. In her late twenties, she was the rare geek who’d crossed the line to conventional businesshood. She knew the ins and outs of successful public relations as well as she understood computers, and she had a nongeeky earthiness that Doc liked.
    â€œWhat happened to you?” he asked, concerned to see her disheveled.
    â€œI couldn’t believe it,” she said. “First, my neighbor stood on his balcony and threw his laptop down three stories into the street. I heard the crash and a scream and went out on my balcony, and he was right there looking like Jack Nicholson in The Shining with wild eyes staring down at the sidewalk. He almost hit a woman walking her dog.”
    â€œWow,” Doc said. “What did he say?”
    â€œThat’s what was so weird. He didn’t say anything. And then on the subway this group of about twenty lunatics crowded on and started handing out pamphlets, and when people refused their shitty little booklets, they threw them in their faces. I’m telling you, it was completely insane. Renounce your sins, it said. Judgment Day is here. They were all Asians, Koreans I think, and people got pissed off. One guy punched this woman and broke her glasses. I got off a stop early and walked. It’s crazy out there. People are dressed up in paper hats and blowing horns. I saw a naked woman with ‘2000’ painted across her tits. I swear to God.”
    â€œWant a cup of coffee?”
    â€œHow about a shot of Scotch.”
    â€œVodka.”
    â€œEven better. Donald in?”
    â€œHis Donaldness is downstairs and waiting for you.”
    â€œWe’re supposed to have a news conference with the bank this morning, but I don’t know…” she said, her voice trailing off.
    On TV CNN was reporting from Moscow where a very shaken Russian Minister of Information was announcing the imposition of martial law in Siberia.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” she asked Doc.
    â€œThe Russians just paid for a bad mistake,” he said. “Siberia doesn’t have many computers except the oil and gas pipelines and the reactors, but Russian infrastructure is a mixed bag. The telephone system is an antique with old-fashioned mechanical relays that should have no problems. Moscow and Petersburg are going to get slammed, but most of rural Russia is still in the 19th Century. The bug can’t stop a horse from pulling a plow.”
    â€œFascinating,” she said, sitting down and making herself comfortable. “Horrifying but fascinating.”
    Doc poured her a double shot of vodka. A noisy crowd of employees came into the office, laughing and picking bits of paper from their hair and clothing. Greetings of “Happy New Year” rattled down the corridor and someone blew a horn.
    â€œDon’t you want to join the party?” Doc asked.
    â€œGive me a break,” she said. “Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we shall die.”
    â€œHail, Caesar,” Doc added. “Don’t worry, things aren’t as bad as they look.”
    On TV CNN reported three spontaneous antinuclear demonstrations at power plants in Oregon, California and Pennsylvania.
    â€œNo nukes, no nukes, no nukes,” the people shouted. Unlike their Russian counterparts, the American police for once looked like they believed the demonstrators had a point.
    *   *   *
    At 8:45 Copeland was in his office with one computer screen showing the red button and another displaying a chart of Y2K stock symbols and data. VIAS, TPRO, ZITL, and DDIM were companies like his that sold