Governments are planning for the year 2000. Stock markets are keeping a watching brief. Software and hardware companies are running - and in some cases failing - tests on their own products.
But one group is prepared. In the backwoods of Idaho, the bluegrass plains of Kentucky and the mountains of Montana, the survivalists are digging in, building their earth-ships and laying up stocks of jerky, pemmican, mullein plants (for toilet paper), antibiotics and carbine ammunition.
Of course they have their own mailing lists - my favourite is y2k-homestead (subscribe address is y2k-homestead- request@MyList.net). "This list is being born in the first quarter of 1998 with the hopes of bringing together people who are interested in the Y2K problem and would like to discuss recent news sightings, share information from real life experience and help each other in preparing for the worst while hoping for the best," says the welcome message.
These are people who believe that Y2K is going to mean TEOTWAWKI - The End Of The World As We Know It. They expect, at the very least, stock market crashes worldwide; at the most, rioting in the streets, gangs of (maybe cannibalistic) rioters roving the cities, martial law and giant concentration camps for civilians in the United States.
The people are varied: some hang out in the Blammo Ammo gun shop, rattling the change in their pockets while deciding between the nicer sorts of guns: "Since a 12-gauge DOES kick, a really good butt-plate pad is a must if you are small. If you want to see some exotic ammo for 12g find a catalog from Blammo Ammo - flares, dragon's breath, bolos, fletchettes, reports, meteors, and all kinds of weird stuff."
Others swap recipes (sometimes, touchingly, not seeming to know that you can cook without using any machines), or discuss an eclectic range of interests. For a while last week it was the Third Secret of Fatima, giving a (supposed) transcription and commenting: Reading this document with Y2K in mind is positively chilling."
Some are startlingly right-wing to Irish ears - but, deep down, they're the kindest, decentest bunch. When one lister's child went missing people kept asking, kept putting the Web address for her picture and description on the end of their letters - and, when she was tracked down and brought home, they and their fellows from the Homestead list lined up to scold the little brat.
The list has a mix including military men, traditional American housewives minding their ancient dads, computer (gulp!) programmers (who seem to favour New Mexico for their boltholes), journalists and farmers. They all have one thing in common - their plan is, if possible, to sell up their city places and get somewhere deep in the countryside to ride out the coming disaster. And boy, is it busy. 100 email postings a day would not be unusual.
They share information freely. "3l acres in Breckenridge County, Ky., wooded and open, 25 minutes from Elizabethtown (college, hospital, large shopping district, and regional state government offices). $31,500 with $500 down and $363 monthly," someone recently quoted, offering a series of mouth-watering Kentucky land prices.
Their ideal is an earth-ship - a kind of spaceship home set snugly into the earth, self-contained and defensible. But most are settling for old farmhouses, and learning how to keep livestock and grow vegetables. Of course, some are still living the city life, stashing goods against the day of wrath. "Gracious sakes, girl! How do you `hide' six months of food in an apartment in NYC?" wrote a countryman in reply to a plea for help.
But not all are expecting the worst, even though most are preparing for it. "Mankind has always been threatened by some kind of imminent danger," a granny writes. "I remember in the late 1950's being sure we were all going to be nuked at any moment - and here I am 60 years old figuring out how to survive Y2K!
"Personally I don't think its going to be as bad as some think - but I'm preparing anyway. It has become a challenge now! My husband is 76 and he remembers his grandmother saying the world was coming to an end when he was a child!"
Let's hope the optimistic granny is right!
Lucille Redmond is at lucred@indigo.ie