MILLENNIAL
BASH by John Enright
“When
there were no electric lights,
When
moon glow took us through the tribal nights,
The
priestesses would raise their chants
Toward
that heavenly body in the sky,
And
all the men would have to dance
At
their command and never ask the reason why.”
He
watched her raptly as she spoke,
Then
asked: “Is that supposed to be a joke?
That
was the age in which men ruled
By
virtue of raw strength and sheer aggression.”
He
squared off for a verbal duel.
“Let’s
go out on the floor and dance,” was her suggestion.
“I
want to dance the New Year in
With
someone, and you’ll do.” A twisted grin
Of
friendly challenge crossed her lips.
“I’ll
do?” he asked, and rather seemed inclined
To
match the music and she said, “You’ll do – just fine.”
The
bass line pulsed. The party swirled
Around
them, and the words, “O brave new world
That
has such people in it!” hung
Above
them on a holographic banner.
Somehow
these haunting words stay young,
Facing
the future in an awed but fearless manner.
Beyond
the ballroom’s walls of glass,
The
city sprawled beneath them in a mass
Of
twinkling multicolored lights.
At
ninety-six floors up you get a view
Which,
if you’re not afraid of heights,
Instills
a sense of godlike vision, clear and true.
The
music slowed. She came to him
In
closed frame dance position. She was
slim,
He
felt, but not just skin and bones;
Some
pleasant padding overlaid her form.
He
caught her scent; her pheromones
Washed
over him like bubble bath, coaxing and warm.
He
led. She followed. “By the way,
He
said, “I’m here to make the light bulbs stay
Lit
up. The dreaded Y2K
Will
be here in five minutes. Do not say
Technology
is now passe.
We’ll
squash that bug if it dares crash this fine soiree.”
She
laughed. “One man against a double
Digit
millennial dragon of trouble?
It
sounds like a job for a hero!
How
did you get appointed to this task?”
He
said, “It’s just a lousy zero,
No
big deal really. But it’s funny you
should ask.
“I
got the offer in my e-mail,
From
C. J. Murphy, probably a female
Hiding
her sex behind initials.
Never
did meet her. Anyway, it seems
That
C. J.’s one of the officials
Of
the Society for Making Little Dreams
Come
True – that charity that tries
To
give a dying kid, before he dies,
One
wish that…” Here he had to pause,
Unable
to go on. She watched his eyes
Mist
up. “It's quite a worthy cause,”
She
said, and gently kissed his cheek, to his surprise.
The
music changed. Not “Auld Lang Syne”
Quite
yet, but “Like It’s 1999,”
By
someone who was once called Prince
And
now is known by his own hieroglyphic.
He
reigned in days of old, long since
Grown
dim. But for this night his song was
just terrific.
Fearing
that he’d appeared pathetic
In
front of her, he welcomed the frenetic
Pace
of the music which erased
The
prior moment’s mood. They danced apart
And
yet together, since they faced
Each
other knowing each had felt the other’s heart.
She
said, “My name is Carol Jean.”
He
suddenly stood still. “And does that
mean,”
He
asked, “as Murphy’s Law would say,
That
you’re the C. J. Murphy whom I slammed
As
hiding out behind ‘C. J.’?
She
curtsied and he blurted out “Well I’ll be damned!”
“I
don’t think that your spirit’s fate
Has
anything to do with your long wait
To
meet me in the flesh. A friend
Gave
us your name. She said you were the
best
At
systems work, was glad to lend
A
hand to us. To me. Hear that?
Here comes your test!”
The
dance had stopped, the chant begun –
The
chant that ends with 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!
“Happy
New Year!” the crowd yelled out.
He
pulled her close again and kissed her sweetly,
Putting
aside hesitant doubt.
But
then he heard a siren blaring indiscreetly.
“Should
old acquaintance be forgot…”
Resounded
round the room, but he did not
Join
in. Instead he cocked his ear
And
listened to the siren’s wailing call.
He
said, “It’s coming from in here,”
Then
bolted, ran across the floor, and down the hall.
She
followed, slower in her heels,
Thoroughly
baffled by his hell-on-wheels
Exit. She found him stabbing keys
On
a computer, in the little room
Where
wires join in tapestries,
Woven
together on an electronic loom.
“Well,
what is that annoying squeal?”
She
asked, “Some false alarm?” “I think
it’s real,”
He
gulped. “The systems all look good.
But
that alarm is from Security.”
His
voice was racing now. “We should
Do
something right away. I’m not quite
sure, but we --
“It
looks like -- are about to be
The
victims of a well-timed robbery.
The
guard’s not answering downstairs.
Here,
take my cell phone. Dial 911.
They
meant to take us unawares.
Let’s
hope the cops get here before the thing’s all done.
“They’re
busy? Figures. It’s the New
Year
and they’re always busy then. And you
Know
this one’s got to be the worst
Ever. We’ve got to hold them off a bit
Until
the cops get here to burst
Their
bubble. Do you think the guards are in
on it?
“Who
else might be? Maybe the waiters?
Damn
it! I know! I’ll stop the elevators!”
His
mouse’s arrow flew. It flicked
Through
windowed screens as if it were alive.
Reaching
the goal at last, he clicked
The
button that was labeled “Disengage The
Drive.”
“Drive
Disengaged” a message square
Declared. Some hum they had not been aware
Of
stopped. Quietness. Then a bell
Repeating
at electric pace began
To
clang as if from down a well.
“They’re
stuck,” he said, “We’ve put a crimp into their plan.”
They
walked together toward the bank
Of
elevators. She asked, “Could you rank
Your
certainty from one to ten?
Honestly,
now. Perhaps it’s just a guard
On
his way up, to say that when
The
clock struck twelve his system software went down hard.”
“Could
be,” he answered. “Let’s find out.”
He
pried a tiny crack and gave a shout,
Forcing
the sound between the doors,
Echoing
through the elevator shaft.
“Are
you stuck in between the floors?
Hold
on! The cops are coming for you!” Then he laughed.
“I’ve
gotten through to the police,”
She
whispered, covering the phone’s mouthpiece.
Just
then a champagne cork went POP,
Except
they also heard it ricochet
Metallically. “You moron, stop!”
Somebody
screamed. “My goddamn ears! Put that away!”
“They’re
shooting at us while we speak,”
C.
J. explained, “So please don’t take all week
Sending
us help. I guess I should
Mention
that Mrs. Langston, yes, the wife
Of
you-know-who, is here. I would
Expect
him to be grateful if you saved her life.”
After
she flipped the cell phone shut,
He
said “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but
Could
you tell me who Langston is?”
“He’s
the police commissioner,” she said.
“It’s
good you’re such a systems whiz.
Regarding
city politics you’re not well read.
“Her
hubby is required to
Spend
his whole evening at police H.Q.
Making
a show of standing guard,
Protecting
all of us from Y2K.
But
Mrs. Langston’s working hard,
Drinking
and flirting and dancing the night away.”
Four
hours later, bleary eyed,
They
left police headquarters side by side.
The
air was clear and crisp and still.
He
took her hand. They were alone. The crowd
Of
journalists was gone. “I will
Always
remember this,” he said. She laughed
out loud.
“Of
course you will,” she said, “Because
Now
that I’ve got you in my tender claws,
I
don’t intend to let you go,
Much
less let you forget the night we met.
I’m
way ahead of you, I know.
Trust
me. I trusted you. I haven’t been wrong yet.”
“It’s
good to hear you’re always right.
Now,
how about those jewel thieves tonight?”
He
asked. “As I recall, you thought…”
She
put a finger to his lips. He took
It
firmly off, and slowly brought
His
lips to hers. And in his heart the
world shook.
Later
again, they watched the sky
Brightening
in the east. A lover’s high
Swirled
sweetly within his mind.
“Happy
Millennium to you,” he said,
“And
many more!” “What shall we find,”
She
fondly asked him, “in the years that lie ahead?”
Among
the stars, when this amazing race
Of
hairless apes extends its grasp
Beyond
the planet’s reach, at last we’ll see
How
vast our plans should be. We’d gasp
In
awe if we could guess one half our destiny.”
He
stopped. She grinned. “Your vision’s clearer
On
what is far away. Now let’s get
nearer.”