Book Description Computers all over the world may revert back to the year 1900 when the clock strikes midnight on January 1， 2000. In this compelling novel， society experiences a "meltdown" with crashing financial institutions， chaotic transportation systems and a crippled national defense. Excerpted from Y2K， the Day the World Shut Down : The Day the World Shut Down by George E. Grant and Michael S. Hyatt. Copyright © 1998. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved January 6， 2000. The air was pure， sharp， and cold， heavy leaden with drama and disquiet， as befitted Epiphany. A frosty mist hung along the banks of the snaking river and a slip of it lingered in the growing darkness of the little dell below. It was not yet quite dusk， but the first stars had come into the sky， twinkling through the snowy boughs and illuminating a narrow path toward the crest of the hill. Will Ajax looked out at the picture postcard panorama before him. A little farmhouse was set snug into the hugging hills. Surrounded by several carefully situated outbuildings， barns， pens and gardens， the homestead was crisscrossed by a series of fences， walls， pathways， and hedgerows. A thin wisp of wood smoke rose from the chimney. The aroma of fresh bread wafted randomly upward. A kind of indescribable glow radiated from the scene-with all the deep inglenooks of memory and home. The intoxicating spell was suddenly snapped by the harsh crackle of his radio headset. "The team is in position， sir." Ajax looked off to his left. Through the trees he could see eleven men arrayed along the crest of the hill. They wore winter woodland camouflage and were weighed down with a bevy of assault weapons， telecom appliances， magellan devices， and directional op-mechanisms. Their faces were obscured by night vision goggles. But their intentions were clear enough. "Right. Recheck the perimeter. Containment is essential. We don't go until they're all in the house." Ajax allowed himself the hint of a smile. It didn't look at all the way Bob Priam imagined the end of the world would look. If anything it looked more like its beginning. He was walking in the garden. A sharp moon， just visable over the tree-lined horizon， was fighting with the flying rags and tatters of a storm. He couldn't quite tell if it was coming or going-but he didn't really care one way or the other. He was lost in the magnificence of the moment. He drew in a deep breath of the crisp evening air. A bracing winter wind whipped the top of the encircling hills， but only the slightest hint of a breeze reached him there. He felt safe， secure， and satisfied. "Dad?" A voice broke his concentration. "Hey， Dad? Are you out there? "Over here. Next to the gate in the wall，" he answered. It was Priam's daughter， Cassandra， silhouetted against the silvery hillside. "Dinner's ready. Mom asked me to come and get you. Whatcha doing?" "OK， Cassie. I'm on my way. I just can't get over how much I love this place." "Yeah， I know. It's really just too good to be true， isn't it?" A sudden chill came over him and Priam shivered as he turned toward the house. Ajax lowered his binoculars as the two small figures below were caught in the light of the open doorway. His pulse was racing. He could taste the saccharined cusp of adrenaline at the back of his throat. It was now or never. He looked over at the men fidgeting in their positions. One was rechecking his weapon for the umpteenth time. Another was repositioning his duffel carriers and tow straps. Yet another was toying with his goggles， trying to et a more comfortable fit across his brow. The rest were gazing down at the odd convergence of pristine beauty and desolate wonder that marked their target. He took a break and gave the signal to strike. The men immediately scramble to their feet and began to move across the frozen terrain down toward the house. Despite the weight of their gear， the steep embankment， and the necessity to maintain stealth， they kept themselves aligned in perfect formation all the way down to the house. The moment felt like eternity， as moment of mere temporal consequence so often do-discerning the difference between what may be the beginning of the end and what may be the end of the beginning is almost always impossible.