Читать книгу Attention. Deficit. Disorder. - Brad Listi - Страница 21

A week or so after Amanda’s funeral, the year 2000 arrived. Y2K. For months, the world had been hearing about imminent danger, that Y2K was a disaster waiting to happen, that critical mainframe computer systems were sure to crash on New Year’s Day, that the global economy was in grave and utter peril. Kingpins in the federal government were urging calmness, advising citizens to exercise caution and restraint. In the weeks leading up to the big day, the more gullible elements of society had busied themselves by stocking up on food and water, batteries and duct tape, in preparation for the chaos.

But in the end, of course, nothing much happened. Not a goddamn thing. It was total bullshit, start to finish. A dark and mysterious lie. And it was no big surprise.

The millennial celebrations of New Year’s Eve were completely misleading as well. A marketing scam, if you ask me. There was money to be made. People were buying. Everyone was in on the act, celebrating the big moment as if it were the real thing, lighting off firecrackers, waving their hands in the air, pretending to be awed. In truth, however, the twenty-first century wouldn’t actually begin until 2001. New Year’s Day 2001 would technically qualify as the first day of the third millennium, because a millennium doesn’t actually begin until the one thousandth year of the previous millennium is over with, the same way a decade doesn’t end until the end of the tenth year. A matter of plain common sense. Yet for some reason, human beings felt compelled to celebrate the start of the next millennium a year early. We just couldn’t wait.

An arbitrary new millennium had dawned.