From WNYC in New York, this is NPR's On the Media.

I'm Brooke Gladstone.

And I'm Bob Garfield.

If you follow the news at all, it can be difficult to keep straight one potential apocalypse from the next.

Financial collapse, global warming, Mayan prophecy.

They've all started to run together, haven't they?

But 10 years ago, there was a catastrophe looming that captured the world's attention,

as dramatically rendered by the TV's least emotional life form.

In dead of winter, at the stroke of midnight, January 1, 2000,

elevators may stop.

Heat may vanish.

Credit cards and ATMs may cease to function.

Y2K. The logic was simple enough.

Our ubiquitous, omnipotent computers had a simple design flaw. They ran according to clocks that were not programmed to recognize the arrival of the new century.

At the turn of the millennium, they were likely to freeze, ringing everything, everything to an abrupt pulse.

But then, as the clock struck midnight again and again around the world, nothing.

Planes flew, dialysis machines functioned, and everybody could check their AOL dial-up accounts.

In short, it was a global false alarm on a grand scale.

Or was it? Farhad Manj, Slate's technology columnist,

has argued recently about what we stand to lose if we misremember Y2K. Farhad, welcome back to the show.

Thanks.

I forget. Did the world come grinding to a halt?

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