MILLENDIUM.

Dead Digits

During an economic slump in the last half of the 23rd Century, M. E. O'Wally, CEO of America and Environs, called a meeting of his advisors, henchpersons, and assorted experts.

"We have to pump start the economy," he said sagely.

"You mean 'jump start'," said a novice advisor.

"When I need to know what I mean, I'll ask," replied O'Wally with a smile that sent dread into most of the assembly. He lifted a finger. In response to this signal, three Comfort Operatives surrounded the novice advisor, sedated him, and took him away. A miserable silence followed.

Then a clamor broke out, as those present vied to offer useful ideas.

"We need a paradigm shift," said a Ph.D. in Vending Philosophy. "A radical new techno-philosophy that requires doing something - anything - differently. And also requires everyone purchasing the necessary means."

"Interesting...," pondered O'Wally.

"More upgrades," cried a middle manager from Mandatory Upgrades.

"Upgrading what, exactly?" asked O'Wally with another of his dangerous smiles.

"More obsolescence," squeaked a junior in Customer Satisfaction.

"People have got wise to upgrade and obsolescence," muttered O'Wally, scowling.

"Something to do with time," pondered a long-haired advisor from Idiosyncratic Ideas who rarely said anything. "A time-dependent gizmo that everyone needs."

"Such as?"

"How about a terrible threat?" said a nervous-looking person from Emergency Management and Soothing Press Releases.

"Nothing like fear of disaster to provoke spending," mused O'Wally.

"Rogue as-as-asteroid heading towards Earth," stammered Emergency Management and Soothing Press Releases.

"Too many amateur astronomers these days," said O'Wally sourly, and Emergency Management hung her head.

"The person who owns time, owns everything," remarked the longhair from Idiosyncratic Ideas.

"I own time," growled O'Wally. "I bought Greenwich because they wouldn't give up the sixty-second minute. I decimalized time-keeping and people still say 'wait a sec.' It makes me sick."

"How did they ever manage with base sixty? People only got ten toes," said the junior from Consumer Satisfaction, laughing at his own joke, then choking at O'Wally's scowl.

O'Wally laughed. He'd just had a brilliant idea.

"I made base sixty illegal." O'Wally pointed proudly to a clock on the conference room wall. "America Incorporated made a fortune in time-related devices."

O'Wally paused for dramatic effect. He enjoyed watching his advisors and henchpersons gazing at him in feigned admiration, even though he knew their sycophantic posturing was rooted in fear. O'Wally liked watching people squirm.

"Owing to the current recession, emergency cuts are required immediately. Therefore, we are forced to remove two digits from the calendar, from all software using digital clocking, which all software does, and from all hardware that employs electronic clocking in any form."

His audience broke into an uproar of praise.

"Brilliant."

"A master stroke."

"Wonderful."

"What's the lack of two little digits going to do? Nothing. Who cares? Nobody. I'll do a propaganda blitz about breaking free of the past. A young universe. A new era. A fresh start, as we the people approach the 24th Century. The two-digit calendar. To comply with this new calendar, I'll require manufacture of hardware and software that uses only two date digits. What could be simpler in concept? Just a little matter of reworking clocks and calendars and related software on almost every device in the solar system."

"Amazing."

"He's a genius."

"Astounding."

O'Wally held his hand up to quiet the uproar. "Get to work. I want to see a complete plan in the morning."

The conference room fell silent, then with the scuffing and shuffling of feet, advisors, henchpersons, and assorted experts moved briskly to the door, where a bottleneck quickly formed. Some tried to look enthusiastic. Few could hide their deathly worry over producing a satisfactory plan in a few hours.

Only one other person remained, O'Wally's faithful personal advisor, Euphram Refraser.

"Report to me," said O'Wally gruffly.

"Sir, the Unspeakable Project Development Team advise that they remain hopeful the plan can be implemented as specifications indicate, although they may encounter a minor holdover in terms of adoption of time-specific parameters."

"They aren't getting anywhere, and they don't know when they will," grumbled O'Wally. "Damn scientists. I'd eliminate them all, if I didn't need them. What about that illegal clone, Pangloss?"

"Pang Lawws, Sir? The Director of Hospitality reports that he is comfortably accommodated in quiet surroundings."

"In jail, in solitary," muttered O'Wally. "It seems to me that they caught him too easily. Why'd he come back to the Galactic Cafe, anyway? He must have known my men would be waiting for him."

"He claims he returned to get a picture, Sir."

"What kind of picture is worth your life, eh?"

"Of the Princess Graceful, Sir. He had it sewn inside his space suit. I have it here for your inspection, Sir."

O'Wally examined the portrait of a beautiful young woman with a smooth oval face and long golden hair.

"Judging by the fall of the hair, this picture was taken under Earth gravity conditions. Except the Princess Graceful doesn't exist. She's just another pleb myth."

"The picture's a fake, of course," said Euphram softly.

"Then why go to such lengths to get it back?" O'Wally snarled. "It must contain coded seditious information. I told you they're out to get me. Have this disgusting thing analyzed by the Decryption Department. Tell them not to rest until they've discovered what rebellious, mutinous, revolutionary acts are recorded."

"Immediately, Sir."

O'Wally glowered for a long moment. He sat, leaned back, closed his eyes. As his personal stress-management robot had taught him, he visualized himself at the helm of a beautiful sailboat sailing in a beautiful sea <CLICK HERE 1>.

<1> With all his faults, O'Wally was quite romantic when it came to boating. He loved sailing in a brisk breeze in one of his many sailing craft, feeling the wheel's kick and the white sail's shaking. He owned six sloops, one named Sea-Fever, twenty-three ketches, and nine schooners. Only the privileged could sail these days, because so much of Earth's water was either too polluted, or off-limits because of plankton farming. O'Wally could not remember the names of all of his boats. Although he knew little of general semantics, he used index numbers to keep track of his flotilla; his favorite sailboat was ketch22.

O'Wally's face relaxed and in a few moments, he opened his eyes.

"I will also check on progress with your thoughtful plan to remove two useless digits and thereby render our new era calendar and clocking devices so much more efficient," said Euphram Refraser in soft reassuring tones.

O'Wally blinked, sat up straight.

"In a while, we'll reach the end of the century," he said with a serene smile. "Since by then all computers will have two-digit clocks, they will all crash."

O'Wally closed his eyes a moment, attempted to visualize himself at the helm of his favorite ketch, failed, opened his eyes and continued speaking.

"In about ten years, I'll start predicting an end-of-century systems failure that will destroy the entire economy unless drastic measures are taken. With the population terrified of social collapse, I'll make another fortune restoring those two digits I'm about to remove."

"You will be doing a great public service," said Euphram Refraser, who as usual believed what he said whenever he rephrased his boss's utterings so euphemistically.

"I've invented the perfect name for this little performance," said O'Wally with a smug smile. Again he paused dramatically, although he now had an audience of only one.

"Since people will think the end of the civilized world is at hand, and I will be making millions of millions, I'll call my new project the Millendium."

Meanwhile, a certain astronomer was making a discovery which would reveal that the end of Earth might indeed be near. Let us now look at the background of this brilliant young scientist and some of the unique circumstances that brought her into this tale.

A Curious Case of Identity

The word identity means many things. For example, if you were so rash as to believe the words in a conventional dictionary, you might find yourself thinking something like this:

identity noun 1. the fact or condition of being the same or exactly alike; oneness; sameness [groups united by identity of interests] 2 a) the fact or condition of being a specific person or thing; individuality b) the condition of being the same as a thing or person described or claimed 3 Mathematics: an equation which is true for all permissible sets of values of the variables which appear in it.

To those conversant with general semantics, the term identity means something quite different, yet paradoxically, also somewhat the same. To further confuse the matter, the practitioners of general semantics hold that there is no such thing as identity, or at least no such thing as identicalness. Yet the notion of identity has proved vitally useful in the gs evaluating process through the technique of postulating that it does not exist.

Wisdom works in mysterious ways.

Thus, in gs, the term identity means something unique to the field. Of course, the use of specialized terminology occurs in other disciplines, for example, paleontology, gastronomy, cosmology, or MTV.

Now, consider this curious case of identity, as we examine the life of two intelligent and beautiful women who would one day have a great impact on history, Reggie and Veggie Quadfam of New Euphoria, a smog-ridden, middle-income, industrial hell-hole in what had once been called Yosemite <CLICK HERE 2>.

<2> The economic boom in Yosemite began through the mining of Quarter Dome (formerly Half Dome), which was found to have rich deposits of Muirite within. When the Muirite was depleted, manufacturing remained, importing raw materials from elsewhere. It is rumored that trees once grew here.

Your chronicler had begun to write that this report concerns two "identical" twins - and had once again almost foundered upon the reef of semantic logic. (Do two twins add up to two, or four individuals? Does that depend on whether you say two twins, or two twins?) But let us move on.

The twins Reggie and Veggie (Regina and her sister) were born on planet Earth of non-clone parents. They were normal in every stereotyped way imaginable, aesthetically delightful products of the America Incorporated Dream - normal, except that they were designated "twins," a category which provided a set of "normal" stereotypes all its own.

According to current mythology, "identical" twins come from the same egg, so they have the "same" characteristics in most respects - one might call this nature's way of cloning. As babies, Reggie and Veggie looked, as far as human intelligence could ascertain, exactly the same. They continued to do so as preadolescents. In fact, their parents could not tell them apart. Standard postnatal tests showed no perceptible differences in their DNA patterns.

According to Reggie and Veggie, they also occasionally had difficulty telling themselves apart. This was a conceit they enjoyed because it confused the sawdust out of most people, sometimes even themselves.

When puberty struck, the girls began to change. Or shall we say that change now occurred at a noticeable rate.

Reggie grew tall. Veggie did not. In a few months, the "identical twins" were no longer identical. (Some sticklers for semantical correctness might argue that they never had been.)

Although Reggie grew taller, her bosom and hips did not develop very much. Her manner became increasingly languid: she was slow to anger, she was thoughtful, and often paused to evaluate her thoughts before speaking (except when with her sister). Sometimes, she seemed aloof. Her body became sleek, lithe, attenuated, wispy, ethereal, the embodiment of female beauty. At least, for those who like that sort of thing.

Although Veggie didn't grow much in height, her bosom and hips developed much more than her sister's. She became quick thinking, fast talking, continually on an adrenaline rush. She seemed open and friendly, warm and cuddly, cute and huggable, the embodiment of female beauty. At least, for those who like that sort of thing.

Reggie and Veggie didn't care one way or another.

They had other activities in mind.

In fact, the sisters did not acknowledge their physical differences. When one looked at the other, she thought she saw a mirror image of herself, as she had done in the past. Thus tall Reggie now perceived herself as short and curvaceous, while Veggie perceived herself as tall and thin.

They fell into the habit of arguing. They argued about anything and everything.

If Reggie said it was red, Veggie said it was green.

If Veggie said it was good, Reggie said it was bad.

If Reggie said she enjoyed classical music, Veggie claimed she liked pop.

If the next moment Veggie praised popular music, Reggie went ape over classical. If Reggie extolled grapes, Veggie went bananas over coconuts.

For a time, their differences were only at the level of words.

They continued to enjoy doing the same things together, eating the same food, playing the same games, reading the same books, caring for the same virtual pets, etc.

But verbally, they could agree on nothing. Reggie and Veggie developed the art of verbal argument to perhaps the highest level of skill in the known universe.

All because they loved each other.

Then they began to grow apart in the things they liked to do.

Reggie, tall, slinky, cool, languid, sensuous, seductive, took up feminism.

Veggie, spicy, voluptuous, sensual, kissable, flirtatious, volatile, threw herself into traditional femininity <CLICK HERE 3>.

<3> Disclaimer: the preceding adjectives are not the opinion of the author, editor, or publisher of this report, but are specifically the subjective views of "those who like that sort of thing."

Reggie took up formal representational painting based on classical imagery.

Veggie took up sculpting abstract conglomerations from found objects.

Tall Reggie got a job as a model, and became interested in cosmetology.

Petite Veggie took up feminism and got a job as a plumber.

They continued to share a dwelling unit and argue endlessly.

Reggie got a scholarship at UU to study geology.

Veggie got a scholarship at UU to study diamond cutting.

Reggie lugged home various sedimentary, conglomerate, and volcanic rocks, and with her special hammer, she smashed them into useless powder.

Veggie carried home crystals, and with her special hammer, broke them into beautiful faceted gems.

Reggie brought home an enormous meteorite of congealed melted material that apparently had no crystalline form, no stratification, no layers, no faults of any kind.

Veggie studied the meteorite for days, gazing at it for long hours from every angle imaginable. Then, with one stroke of her hammer, she shattered it into hundreds of matching gleaming octahedrons.

Reggie went on field trips, exploring vistas far and wide, including off-earth locations.

Veggie hunched over her workbench in a tiny windowless room under artificial light and peered at small precious stones a few inches beneath her nose.

Reggie loved open spaces and suffered from claustrophobia.

Veggie developed agoraphobia, and took to sitting in closets.

Reggie took up playing the piccolo in the park.

Veggie began playing the euphonium in the shower.

Tall Reggie dated short men.

Petite Veggie dated tall men.

They argued unceasingly, and couldn't stand being apart for more than a few hours.

Their parents were an apparently normal, middle-income, quiet, contented couple who didn't argue, held hands, accepted their gender roles and did most things in moderation, voted middle of the road. "Dear, we don't rock the boat," he'd say, and she'd reply. "Yes, Dear, we don't make waves."

Reggie and Veggie came and went like a couple of tornadoes.

Despite the changes that had occurred over the years, Reggie's and Veggie's parents continued to label them "our identical twins" and they still had difficulty telling their daughters apart.

In an attempt to develop a career as a beautician, Reggie signed up for a course in cosmology, and only after she had become enraptured by the science of studying the universe did she discover her mistake. She stayed in the course, and eventually took Ph.D.s in cosmology, astronomy, and related fields.

Veggie got a job in a pawn shop, evaluating jewelry. In her spare time, she took Ph.D.s in 5D geometry, schism physics, and various obscure mathematics.

One day, the City of New Euphoria, population three million, received an eviction notice. M. E. O'Wally, CEO of America and Environs, had bought the city so he could demolish its structures and build another WallyMart.

The inhabitants of New Euphoria dispersed, except for those who would work in the new WallyMart. Reggie got a job in the department that sold planetariums, observatories, and assorted electron telescopes. Veggie got work at the other end of the store, in the WallyMart diamond production and cutting department.

Some, like Reggie's and Veggie's parents, took advantage of O'Wally's offer of relocation by electronic de-materialization transporter to his new Adult Community Planet <CLICK HERE 4>.

<4> Scandalmonger reporter Hearaldo Irreverent claimed that O'Wally's transporter did dematerialize travelers, just as the glossy brochures so glowingly described, but it failed to re-materialize them, so the travelers never arrived anywhere. He further alleged that O'Wally's Adult Community Planet only existed as a model in a holdcaster studio. The Supermarket Inquirer published Hearaldo Irreverent's shocking expose that included pictures of thousands of CDs allegedly containing the compressed molecular data of lifeless dematerialized "travelers" stacked in an abandoned warehouse in Beverly Hills. Whatever the case, Reggie and Veggie received no postcards from their parents after their "departure."

At break, Veggie and Reggie would each take a shuttle and meet for a snack and a chat somewhere in the middle of the store.

When business was slack, Reggie spent hours looking at the cosmos through the high-powered telescopes sold in the department where she worked. She patched herself into [Hubble.sub.101], where she could get an even better look at the heavens. In this way, while eating a donut, drinking synthetic coffee, and puffing on a mockarette, Reggie discovered that doggy-bone-biscuit-shaped asteroid 2202 Bluto had left its orbit and was moving differently in relation to surrounding celestial bodies.

Reggie's calculations revealed that asteroid 2202 Bluto was on a collision course with Earth. Its impact would cause such a catastrophic release of energy as to convert the planet into smithereens.

"Wow!" she yelled, exhibiting an excitement unusual to her, and more often seen in her sister.

"Trippy, man. Far out. A million smithereens. The end of the world. It's the millendium."

Continued...

Paul Dennithorne Johnston, struggling humorist, serves as Executive Director of ISGS. Here, he continues to explore humor and fiction as a means of creating more awareness of general semantics.