The clock on the wall read 11:57pm in dull red digital letters that gave the entire room Ned was standing in an eerie, ghostly glow. He could hear the sounds of the New Years Eve party downstairs in his apartment. They had been whooping it up all night, and by the sounds of it the party was sure to be an all nighter. After all, how many times did the millenium change in a persons lifetime? After a year of hard work, bills, family arguments and 60 hour weeks with no vacation time all those stresses came bubbling out in the form of loud music, excessive drinking and the occasional yee-haw. Ned was not the social type and he really hated it when the neighbors had loud parties. Last time was a Christmas bash and he called the cops on account of several rowdy white-collar types living it up in one ill-fated instance of what they called bullseye. This game was played by throwing half empty beer cans out into the street to try and hit cars, people, dogs whatever. The clock ticked to 11:58pm. Ned lit up a Camel and puffed on it heavily. He had heard about the Y2K bug ever since he was in graduate school but like most students, in between drinking, sex and finals, he had very little time to really think about the future. For most the future was as foreign as the African country of Ethiopia. Hell it was hard enough to get most graduates to even type up a rough draft of their resume if it meant giving up a precious night of the club scene. Somewhere downstairs some man yelled yeah baybeeeeee!!, and it beckoned the calls from several female drunk hyenas. Ned walked over to the blinds and raised one flap so he could poke an eye out on the city. At a glance Ned saw the digital clock read 11:59pm. Just one more minute to the new millenium he thought. Atlanta was home to three and a half million people and judging by the number of lights Ned could see from his high rise apartment there was ten lights for every person in the city. Illuminating the entire metropolis in pseudo light. On the seventh floor he could see pretty far. Off in the distance he could see the State Capitol building with its gold roof. Further off he could see Turner Field. By the looks of it there was at least ten thousand people gathered there to celebrate the coming of the third millenium. In less than sixty second the fireworks would start and people would be frantically searching for a body to kiss. Ned however was an agoraphobic and he couldnt stand the wide-open spaces, much less the thousands of people who would be occupying them. He had moved to Atlanta to be closer to his calling, computers and more specifically IT consulting. He was a regular Schwarzenegger when it came to mainframes and Personal Computers. Ned didnt think there was one clear mind downstairs at the party but when they were clear most of them were people he worked with and not one of them came close to being as capable around computers as he was. A bunch of college grads with nothing better to do than data entry and mindless programming tasks. Ned, being in his mid thirties, didnt have much in common with them anyway, but if he did he figured he still wouldnt socialize with them. The sounds of yelling and something heavy being tipped over downstairs just reinforced his opinion of them. He craned his neck to see the clock and as he did it ticked over to 12:00am. New Years Day had just begun. He looked back out onto the city and heard a gunshot. His clock must be fast, he thought. Right after the gunshot he heard the chanting of the countdown beginning downstairs.  Ten.Nine.Eight.Seven There was a helicopter flying low from the south and heading in a westerly pattern over the city. Ned remembered seeing the News choppers a hundred times when he was stuck on I-75 rush hour traffic and they were small, usually blue and white. This one was larger, heavier and dark. The whop-whop-whop of the propellers gave it a sinister sound as it passed out of sight to Neds left. SixFiveFour. Ned puffed hard on his Camel and remembered something he had heard during a Spring Meeting of the software firm he worked at. Alex the Y2K project manager has been informed that he had exactly one month to complete the remediation. Under his breath he could hear Alex mutteringyeah thatll be the daythe day Hell freezes over. Ned looked out his apartment window and saw a twenty-foot high 7-11 slushy rendition in plastic and neon lights and chuckled. Hell might not be freezing over any time soon but it looks like the 7-11 will be covered. THREE!. TWO!ONE!HAPPY NEW YEARS!!!! The shouting came like a dull roar under Neds feet. What sounded like thirty or more drunken entry level white-collar boneheads cheering the beginning of another thousand years was enough to wake the dead, Ned thought. From another apartment underneath him he could hear some poor soul pounding on the walls, in what seemed like a desperate plea to be quiet and let the rest of the world sleep. Ned crushed out his Camel in the ashtray and peered out the window again. A giant red ball of fire leapt into the air over Turner field, followed by two smaller dazzling white bursts. And then an enormous blue devil crackled into life a second later and spewed hundreds of white whistling ladyfingers into the night air. The entire field was lit up like it was midday briefly. He looked over to the right and saw the dark helicopter circling the southeastern part of the city, maybe a mile away from where he was. Faintly he could hear the monotonous whop-whop-whop of the blades cutting through the chilly nighttime air. It wasnt the type of craft youd see on a daily basis, he thought. When it passed over the first time he was sure he could see it was equipped with a missile battery on the port side. His attention was drawn suddenly to the street directly below when the devastating sound of automatic rifle fire spilt the sounds of the New Years Eve party downstairs. Even in their drunken state they werent totally oblivious. Ned scanned the street and didnt see anything at first; he looked to the right and then left but still didnt see the gunman. And then he did see the shooter, running out of his building across the road. He was decked out in black fatigues and carrying a large rifle. He ran maybe thirty yards and there was a gunshot from somewhere. Turning around in mid run the rifle-guy squeezed off a few more rounds and kept sprinting away from the building. A woman screamed from below and a second later the shooter was gone in the night. Just a moment later a man dressed in a suit came running out carrying what Ned could only figure was a handgun. The way he carried it was a dead give away. He looked at the clock again and it was 12:01am. He pulled another Camel out of his battered pack and lit it up, never taking his eyes away from the street below. The man in the suit returned inside and it wasnt long before he heard the unmistakable sounds of an emergency siren. The noises downstairs were notably quieter now. Ned figured that there were at least a few people down there peering out the window reporting back what they saw to the rest of the party. In less than five minutes an ambulance arrived and the scene must have gotten boring for the party-goers because Ned could hear the radio being turned up to a level that was defiantly not acceptable at midnight on any day of the year. The rock group U2 was playing the intro to New Years Day. Looking back out onto the city Ned saw the fireworks display over Turner Field building up into a shattering crescendo. The flashes and explosions were coming every few seconds now and it was casting shadows back into his apartment that is how bright they were. As the ambulance driver stepped out from the cab Ned saw the shooter reappear on the scene, appearing almost like magic out of the cold January air. He slapped the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and lifted the barrel towards the ambulance. Not taking time to aim properly he unloaded what must have been a thirty round clip into the side of the red and white truck, blowing out the tires on his side. Along with the tires the windows on both sides of the vehicle popped out and the passenger side headlamp blew up into a million tiny glass shards. Even from seven stories up Ned could see little specks of paint flying off the ambulance to come fluttering down to the ground as the slugs tore into the thin metal. The driver was already gone by the time the shooter had finished. There was another man inside and he came tumbling out the drivers side, apparently wounded. He crawled towards the building as the shooter turned and retreated a second time. Ned was completely aghast and felt sick to his stomach. The malice and carnage was just too much to think about. He let the blinds fall back into place and nervously stepped over the wires coming out of the back of his PC and grabbed a hold of the door handle to his front door. Grasping it tightly he thumbed the deadlock to make sure it was in place and then locked the handle itself, something he had never done in the ten years he lived in Atlanta. The music downstairs was at an ear shattering level and he suspected that no one had even noticed the second shooting. Bono was screaming loudly; Under a blood red sky, a crowd has gathered, black and whitearms entwined, the chosen fewThe newspapers say. Say it its true, its true we can break through Ned drew deeply on his cigarette and held it for a second. Exhaling he recalled how grisly it was to see the injured ambulance driver crawling for safety. He was half tempted to go back and see what was going on. Before he could, the clock on the wall, the only light he had in his apartment at that time, shut off. The surge protector on his PC had a little yellow light on it and even that was out. Downstairs the music cut off suddenly and there was laughter for maybe half a minute. And then there was silence. Ned grasped door handle and tried not to panic. He heard all the glowing happy faced reports on the television about the power grid being safe from systemic Y2K failures and up until that very moment he never really stopped to question them. He was well aware of potential risks in other areas, but the electricity had always been there. It seemed impossible that it could ever fail. The only sounds now were the cheering from Turner field as the fireworks display ended. The rotating lights from the ambulance parked downstairs were casting a multicolored hue on Neds blinds. The siren had been turned off but he suspected there would be more on the way soon as the shooting was reported. At that thought Ned walked over to the phone and tried to dial 911. The lines were totally tied up though and he wasnt even able to get it to ring. All he got was the impotent busy signal. He hung the receiver back in its cradle and drew on his cigarette again. Exhaling the sweet smoke, Ned heard another series of gunshots coming from outside. It was further away, but it sounded like the first two bouts from the Rifle Guy. He suspected that the happy shooter was making his way downtown via Fulton Avenue right towards Turner Field. Ned shuddered and began to panic with the words of Bono still ringing in his ears Nothing changes on New Years Day.

-- (Anonymous@the door mouse. com), June 17, 1999

Answers

Rats, the format got all screwy... sorry

-- (Anonymous@ the door mouse.com), June 17, 1999.

Great!!!!! More more!!!!!!

Tip about formatting. If you want one space to show up between paragraphs you have to type two.

Please keep going. Maybe we can get Ned and Helen to meet!

-- Story Teller (anonymous@for.now), June 17, 1999.

Very good! We've got to work on the formatting so that it is easier on the eyes, but the opening chapter is gripping. You've got a good style. Surviving Y2K in an Atlanta apartment ought to be interesting.

-- Dog Gone (layinglow@rollover.now), June 17, 1999.

You and Storyteller need to keep trying. I don't think the 1999 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest for lousy literature has given awards yet.

-- This Crap Reminds me of the Bagga Saga (eeew@yuk.barf), June 17, 1999.

This is great! Keep up the good work Anonymous. And ignore polly comments.

-- Mike (midwestmike_@hotmail.com), June 17, 1999.

We enjoyed this one too! But try to have paragraphs..it's easier reading. Awaiting the next chapter....AND will Hel and this character meet? Thank you

-- quietly (quietly @lurking.com), June 17, 1999.

Sniff, sniff. Decker? Naw.

-- lurkette (maybehome@home.com), June 17, 1999.

I like it, I like it! More please!

mb in NC

-- mb (mdbutler@coastalnet.com), June 17, 1999.

OK, I read it. Not bad. More please.

-- This Crap Reminds me of the Bagga Saga (eeew@yuk.barf), June 17, 1999.

Not Bad, but why is Ned, "Schwarzenegger when it came to mainframes" at home?

Hasn't he heard about about the big money on offer for rollover support!

RonD

-- Ron Davis (rdavis@ozemail.com.au), June 17, 1999.

MORE! Please?

-- sue (deco100@aol.com), June 18, 1999.