Millenium Dad

Spam and concrete. I looked around at the sad state of affairs and knew immediately something had gone very wrong. The grey box I was presented with paled in comparison to the Christmas I had left behind. The warm lights, smells of cinnamon and table laden with steaming dishes were now miles away, locked behind the door of my mother’s house. Carols and laughter were left dwindling in the cold winter breeze that had chased my exit.

Dad had claimed New Year’s Eve as his own, years ago. He knew Mum would have fought tooth and nail to retain Christmas with her daughter and so he conceded early. I think he understood that he had won second place in the holiday grab and inevitably, always over compensated. The night went from something we had merely acknowledged to an event worthy of excess and celebration. I could not fault him for it. He wanted to make our time together special, just as I did, despite it having become so limited.

        “What is this, Dad? Why are we down here?” I asked, unsure I wanted to hear the answer, while faced with a dire scene of canned meats and harsh stone.

Once all the papers had been signed and my father had finally been released from his vows, he had taken his money and fled the wreckage. The country house he invested in had taken him far away from not just me, but everything. It broke my heart at the time, I’d felt so empty and abandoned that tears had stained my pillow most nights. Once older, I could understand why he had made the choice. The pain he must have felt while lingering, watching mum move on and flourish, would have been difficult to bear. Over the years he had turned the run-down derelict into a home to be proud of. Although the dark and cold, underground bunker he had led me into, was something new.

        “What do you think? Not bad hey!” He said, with an enthusiasm in his voice I could not find the will to match.

        “It’s…really something” I offered with a weak smile.

        “Come on Cassie, come inside, don’t linger under the ladder. You won’t be able to see everything from there! I’ve got the table all set up and a couple of bunks to sleep in later. Theres plenty of food, although it won’t be what we are used to having. It’ll be a little leaner I’m afraid,” he spoke as he wandered the space. It was only big enough for two to edge about in, yet he found plenty to fiddle with, talking about this item and that. I watched him from where I remained, safely under the natural light of the hatch, “I’ve got a radio too, its hand cranked so it’ll never run out of juice. Isn’t that wild? The things they can do now. Oh, and I’ve stocked plenty of snacks, so we won’t be without the treats. I even got the chocolate pretzels you like!”

        “Dad, this is all great,” I interrupted, sounding far from convincing, “but are you saying we are spending the night down here? What about our normal dinner and the party games? We’ll miss the fireworks...those are my favourite part. I was looking forward to our usual New Years…I get excited for it…it’s the most time we ever spend together.”

I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice and my smile strong, but I noticed his crestfallen expression and it made my heart ache for him. I’d never wanted anything more than to please my dad, there was so much that had stood between us already. I hated to add to the list.

        “Come and sit down…please” he begged, gesturing to the lower bunk.

I stepped gingerly beneath the solid concrete ceiling, glancing at it in suspicion while entering the fluorescence of the single light bulb. I have never been claustrophobic, but the close confines and stale air made me nervous. I sat down next to the greying man who seemed a little wider every year and when he held a firm arm around my shoulders, I immediately felt my body relax and melt into him.

        “You’re fifteen now,” he stated, “I think you’re old enough to hear the full story. I don’t want to scare you, but there’s a good reason why I had this built and why I want you down here tonight.”

        “Okay…so, what is it?” I asked.

        “You know I work with computers now?”

        “Yeah, of course. I don’t understand the details, but I remember that much” I said.

        “Well, we are going into the year 2000 tonight and that’s a big deal for a bunch of reasons. The main one though, is that it will reset every date we use in information technology to 00. You know, like ’98, ’99 then it’ll be 00,” he constructed a little cough as an excuse to pause, as he always did when he was worried about saying something out loud, “what that means, is that all of those computer systems that rely on the date to work, will suddenly think that it’s the year 1900 again. This won’t register properly…and sweetheart…those systems will fail.”

        “Alright, well you and the other computer people can just fix it in the morning, right?”

        “I’m afraid not Cassie. It’ll be too late for that. You see…a lot of our lives now depend on those machines. Banks, schools, emergency services, water and electrical plants. Hell, even traffic light signals. We use computers to run all of it these days. Now I don’t want you to panic, but at midnight tonight, sweetheart none of those things will exist anymore, not as we know them. It’ll all be corrupted, wiped, gone. They’re calling it the millennium bug.”

        “Wait…what are you talking about? Like the world is gonna end or something!?” I asked, my heartbeat beginning to pound in my chest and sweat glistening on my palms. I held my breath in anticipation of his answer.

        “Not straight away, but with every service that runs on a computer stopping dead overnight, things are going to fall apart really quickly. Society will…change. It won’t be safe anymore. On account of my job, I was able to see this coming and so I had this bunker built. I am aware it’s far from luxury, but I exhausted all of my savings just to get this much. I did my best for us. To keep you safe, for as long as I can.” He took his arm from my shoulder and dropped his head into his hands and for the first time, as stoic as he had remained through the turbulence of my parent’s divorce, I saw him break down and cry.

My mind reeled with what he had just told me. First into disbelief and despair, until I felt my jaw set and anger rip a fire into my core that burned away any self-pity.

        “You knew about this…for a really long time!?” I yelled, “Why are you only telling me now!? What about Mum! What about everyone else!? I need to call her, I haven’t got any bars down here, I need to go up to the house-”

        “I’ve already told your mother,” He said, pulling back control of himself, “she didn’t want to hear it, Cassie. She thinks it’s all nonsense and that everything will be fine. The most action I was able to get her to take was to let me do all of this for you. I think she only agreed to that because you were coming here anyway, and it made little difference. I tried, Cassie, I really did, for a very long time.”

        “…but you know all about this stuff. Why wouldn’t she listen to you? We have to make her listen now!”

        “Your mother and I, we don’t agree on much anymore. She doesn’t…I don’t rate very highly in her eyes. She embraces a society I chose to reject, and she struggles to understand what I know to be true. Sweetie, there’s nothing more we can do tonight, other than hunker down in here and see what comes. We will go to your mother, when she has seen for herself, I promise.”

I sat back down and felt yet another tear run down my cheek at the behest of my parent’s differences. I lamented the other life, held in my imagination, where we would be facing all of this together as a family.

The rest of the evening was torture. The countdown that usually filled me with excitement and anticipation now stretched into an endlessly ticking clock of dread. We listened to the radio, ate our rations in silence and I unpacked the few possessions I had brought with me. If I had known I’d be staying…I would have packed differently. I struggled to shake off the thoughts of all the things I left behind at my mum's house and focussed instead on the sounds of celebration coming in over the airwaves. I held my breath when they began counting down from ten. It felt like I was dying, like the second that gong hit, my entire life would be burned down and another set in its place. My hands shook to the point that my dad grasped them and held me tight. A whimper burst forth from my lips instead and my head shook side to side of its own accord. Together we waited the last few seconds until the end of the world. I let out a hopeful breath when nothing happened. The revellers continued their party through the radio's speakers, and I met my father eyes.

        “Remember,” he said, “Nothing will really change until tomorrow, when people try to use the computer systems that they would normally rely on. Only then will they panic causing things to spiral out of control. Best we just get some sleep now, if we can.”

        I could not.

 My eyes opened to the persistent, dim glow of the lightbulb above. It took me a moment to recognise where I was, the scratchy blanket against my neck giving it away. I must have slept a little, despite my fears, yet I still felt groggy and disorientated as I rose. Dad was sat at the table, rhythmically winding the radio and waiting for a signal. The static that returned sent my eyes wide.

        “Relax,” he said, sensing my alarm, “It’s early still. The first programs won’t have begun, it would normally be a public holiday, so I’d expect them to start later than usual. It’s hard to keep track of the days passing down here, but I have a watch, if you are ever lost.”

I nodded and sat myself in the opposite chair with the table between us. I had slept fully clothed. Partly from exhaustion, but also because I was no longer familiar enough around my father for anything less. Together we waited. He wound the crank. I listened.

I jumped when music and a voice leapt from the little box. I had never awoken so early as to catch the beginning of the local radio station’s schedule, meaning I did not know if what I was hearing was normal or not. Yet as I waited, enjoying the music and the jovial banter of the hosts, it began to occur to me, that no mention had been made of any disaster. There was no emergency broadcast, no warning and no panic. Everything was…normal. My breath caught and a smile graced my lips for the first time in 12 hours, but before I could speak, my father cut in,

        “Perhaps it’s recorded. They often do that you know, prerecord shows so the presenters can have a day off-”

Yet, before he could continue, the music silenced, and a local caller dialled in. They asked him about his New Years experience and how he felt about seeing in a new millennium. I’ll never forget the laughter in his voice as he debased all those who had feared Y2K and the terrible bug that never was. My stomach dropped as he thanked all the programmers that had successfully pre-empted any issues and had ensured the party went on into the early hours.

I sat silent and still for a long time. I could not bring my eyes to meet my fathers. Eventually, I simply stood, collected my bag and strode toward the ladder.

        “You need to stay down here, Cassie! This doesn’t mean that it’s safe! We need to be cautious…PLEASE! I need to protect you from this!” He called down the narrow passage that was by then at my back.

I considered for a moment and then finally acknowledged the truth that my mother had gently urged me to realise for so many years. My father was just a man. He was human, flawed and most recently…broken by change. It felt alien. Yet the night of gut-wrenching terror, followed by absolute relief, had allowed me to understand that it was possible for him to be wrong. My father had never been the infallible pillar of protection I had, for so long, believed. It wasn’t his fault, not really. I should not have allowed him to scare me so completely, not without questioning a single facet of his story. I would not make that mistake again. I grasped a ladder rung, set my foot to another and whispered under my breath,

        “This was my fault…I’m sorry, I should’ve known better.”