I lay my fingers on the keyboard and when the desktop settles down, I click on the icon that opens the word processor . And start to type. From 1999 toward the year 2000. Their expressions are taut, or pained, or frightened, or concerned, or worried, or eyes darting back and forth across the metal walls, where the outside sounds are hushed. Fears well up.
People are afraid.
How will they deal with the changes. But they don't know. And so their fears only simmer. Only churn in their stomachs as the hours slide by. They are afraid and stay afraid.