© 2026 Connecticut Public

FCC Public Inspection Files:
WEDH · WEDN · WEDW · WEDY
WEDW-FM · WNPR · WPKT · WRLI-FM
Public Files Contact · ATSC 3.0 FAQ
Play Live Radio
Next Up:
0:00
0:00
0:00 0:00
Available On Air Stations

At the end of 1999, many thought Y2K would cause the world to collapse

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC)

SARAH MCCAMMON, HOST:

Time now for StoryCorps. At the end of 1999, there was high anxiety about a potential computer glitch, known as the Y2K bug. Some believed that at midnight, when the year turned over to 2000, computers would malfunction and society worldwide would crumble. Some thought this was nonsense, but not 18-year-old Erin Maloney (ph). She rallied a small group to wait out the apocalypse in an old house in the woods.

ALEC LIVELY: Your confidence is kind of the driving force. You know, you found a group of people that were just all so willing to do about anything.

MCCAMMON: That's Alec Lively (ph). He and Erin sat down at StoryCorps to talk about those final days of 1999.

ERIN MALONEY: We were a bunch of kids in Nowheresville, New Hampshire, trying to build a place in the world where we could be safe in case something happened. The house was sort of like a hunting cabin, I guess, and I remember we had to tie a hose to the bathroom sink and bathe out on the deck in the middle of winter.

LIVELY: We didn't have any technology.

MALONEY: Just a landline, old-school with the curly wire, and that was our only means of contact with the outside world. We were all dumb as rocks. There was a party almost every night, and we never actually saved any food (laughter).

LIVELY: We had that freeze-dried stuff in the basement.

MALONEY: You ended up eating at all.

LIVELY: Did I?

MALONEY: Yeah (laughter).

LIVELY: That sounds right.

MALONEY: In order to stay at the property, the owner wanted us to have this military survival training to make us better protectors of the place. Bob, the guy who trained us, was ex-Marine.

LIVELY: That was my first real experience with firearms.

MALONEY: At one point, he had us disassembling and reassembling Colt 45s.

LIVELY: Yeah. Yeah, you think you can still do it?

MALONEY: Hell no.

LIVELY: I remember doing all the ropes training and thinking, well, if I ever need to repel, things have gone real wrong.

MALONEY: New Year's Eve - we had a moment of silence at midnight. And then we were searching the news for any weirdness that was going on outside, and it was nothing.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)

UNIDENTIFIED NEWS ANCHOR: Happy New Year here. Welcome to our Millennium special. We're happy to say the lights are still on, computers are still on, planes are flying. Life is continuing. It appears the threat...

MALONEY: It was a hell of an anticlimax. The four or five of us sat together upstairs in the pig pile area where all the blankets and pillows were, and we talked about sort of next steps.

LIVELY: When nothing happened, it really solidified for me, like, don't trust most of these giant theories. I was so lost back then, and I looked for radical ways to find that sense of purpose.

MALONEY: Well, we were definitely raw cut gems back then.

LIVELY: How long did you stay there after that?

MALONEY: Not long. It was like a month or two. You know, I was starting to go over all the things that I potentially regret from that period in my life, but it was the only path for me.

LIVELY: Yeah.

MALONEY: We were kids. We had to go through these things, and we came out the other side.

(SOUNDBITE OF BLUE DOT SESSIONS' "CHROMIUM BLUSH")

MCCAMMON: Alec Lively now works in IT, and Erin Maloney is a paralegal and a mom. Their interview is archived at the Library of Congress. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.

Esther Honig

Federal funding is gone.

Congress has eliminated all funding for public media.

That means $2.1 million per year that Connecticut Public relied on to deliver you news, information, and entertainment programs you enjoyed is gone.

The future of public media is in your hands.

All donations are appreciated, but we ask in this moment you consider starting a monthly gift as a Sustainer to help replace what’s been lost.

SOMOS CONNECTICUT is an initiative from Connecticut Public, the state’s local NPR and PBS station, to elevate Latino stories and expand programming that uplifts and informs our Latino communities. Visit CTPublic.org/latino for more stories and resources. For updates, sign up for the SOMOS CONNECTICUT newsletter at ctpublic.org/newsletters.

SOMOS CONNECTICUT es una iniciativa de Connecticut Public, la emisora local de NPR y PBS del estado, que busca elevar nuestras historias latinas y expandir programación que alza y informa nuestras comunidades latinas locales. Visita CTPublic.org/latino para más reportajes y recursos. Para noticias, suscríbase a nuestro boletín informativo en ctpublic.org/newsletters.

Federal funding is gone.

Congress has eliminated all funding for public media.

That means $2.1 million per year that Connecticut Public relied on to deliver you news, information, and entertainment programs you enjoyed is gone.

The future of public media is in your hands.

All donations are appreciated, but we ask in this moment you consider starting a monthly gift as a Sustainer to help replace what’s been lost.