“For the want of a nail the shoe was lost. For the want of the shoe the horse was lost. For the want of the horse the rider was lost. For the want of the rider the battle was lost…” and so on.
We don’t rely much anymore on horses, horseshoes or horseshoe nails, but the analogy holds. For the want of two bytes, the date was lost, for the want of the date the computer was lost, for the want of the computer — what was lost? The power grid? The stock exchange? The air-traffic control system?
If you’ve logged onto Soapbox, you have enough computer familiarity to have heard about Y2K – the glitch by which computers read the year as a two-digit, rather than a four-digit number and which threatens to push all computer-reliant systems off-line on January 1, 2000, if not before.
My real and electronic mailboxes have been full of material on Y2K in the past few weeks. Unlike other dire predictions which may or may not yet prove true, we will know the full effect of Y2K in less than 500 days.
From what I read, the problem is considerable. Earlier this year, one satellite went askew, disrupting millions of pagers and dozens of television broadcasts. Last year, the failure of one electrical substation created a cascading effect that blacked out much of the western half of the country. It doesn’t take much. But, even if we do fix all the computers in time, there will be an estimated 50 million non-compliant “embedded system” chips on January 1, 2000. An “embedded system” is a computer chip which is part of another machine – say a car, an airplane or a railroad switch.
Then, if we manage to cobble together our essential services, what about the economy? In the frivolous world in which we now live, where the number one worldwide industry is tourism, what happens when there is an interruption in the supply of Nikes and Sonys, of gimcracks and gewgaws? The world economy is anxious enough as it is. Even as I read this, the New York Stock Exchange is bucking and rearing like an unbroken stallion.
So, expect disruption. But how much? That depends on you. According to Wired magazine, all the hotshot programmers who were hired to solve the Y2K problem got one look at the true scope of the mess – all those computers, all those embedded chips, all those lines of code that need to be rewritten – and immediately went out and started buying guns and non-perishable foods. I think that’s the wrong answer. One programmer – Paloma O’Reilly – started the Cassandra Project, to help communities take care of people when Y2K rolls around. I think that’s the right answer.
I don’t know what will happen on January 1, 2000 when the computers may or may not go haywire, but I imagine it might be something like the Northeast Blackout of 1965. It was a cold night and suddenly a very dark one. I remember my dad pulling on his wool jacket and disappearing into the night, canvassing the block, checking on our neighbors, reminding them our house had a gas stove.
Soon people began arriving, carrying flashlights and food. A common meal was prepared by the glow of the stove’s burners and consumed by small clutches of friends gathered around candles. By morning, the power had been restored, but I have no doubt we could have continued as long as we needed.
I doubt we shall pass through Y2K without trouble, but we have the power to decide between the lonely clang of the bunker door or the comfort of mutual aid.
For the Want of Two Bytes
“For the want of a nail the shoe was lost. For the want of the shoe the horse was lost. For the want of the horse the rider was lost. For the want of the rider the battle was lost…” and so on.
We don’t rely much anymore on horses, horseshoes or horseshoe nails, but the analogy holds. For the want of two bytes, the date was lost, for the want of the date the computer was lost, for the want of the computer — what was lost? The power grid? The stock exchange? The air-traffic control system?
If you’ve logged onto Soapbox, you have enough computer familiarity to have heard about Y2K – the glitch by which computers read the year as a two-digit, rather than a four-digit number and which threatens to push all computer-reliant systems off-line on January 1, 2000, if not before.
My real and electronic mailboxes have been full of material on Y2K in the past few weeks. Unlike other dire predictions which may or may not yet prove true, we will know the full effect of Y2K in less than 500 days.
From what I read, the problem is considerable. Earlier this year, one satellite went askew, disrupting millions of pagers and dozens of television broadcasts. Last year, the failure of one electrical substation created a cascading effect that blacked out much of the western half of the country. It doesn’t take much. But, even if we do fix all the computers in time, there will be an estimated 50 million non-compliant “embedded system” chips on January 1, 2000. An “embedded system” is a computer chip which is part of another machine – say a car, an airplane or a railroad switch.
Then, if we manage to cobble together our essential services, what about the economy? In the frivolous world in which we now live, where the number one worldwide industry is tourism, what happens when there is an interruption in the supply of Nikes and Sonys, of gimcracks and gewgaws? The world economy is anxious enough as it is. Even as I read this, the New York Stock Exchange is bucking and rearing like an unbroken stallion.
So, expect disruption. But how much? That depends on you. According to Wired magazine, all the hotshot programmers who were hired to solve the Y2K problem got one look at the true scope of the mess – all those computers, all those embedded chips, all those lines of code that need to be rewritten – and immediately went out and started buying guns and non-perishable foods. I think that’s the wrong answer. One programmer – Paloma O’Reilly – started the Cassandra Project, to help communities take care of people when Y2K rolls around. I think that’s the right answer.
I don’t know what will happen on January 1, 2000 when the computers may or may not go haywire, but I imagine it might be something like the Northeast Blackout of 1965. It was a cold night and suddenly a very dark one. I remember my dad pulling on his wool jacket and disappearing into the night, canvassing the block, checking on our neighbors, reminding them our house had a gas stove.
Soon people began arriving, carrying flashlights and food. A common meal was prepared by the glow of the stove’s burners and consumed by small clutches of friends gathered around candles. By morning, the power had been restored, but I have no doubt we could have continued as long as we needed.
I doubt we shall pass through Y2K without trouble, but we have the power to decide between the lonely clang of the bunker door or the comfort of mutual aid.