The Year 2000 sits in an oversized chair, squirming a bit under the TV lights, adjusting his dirty sash. His hair has gone prematurely white, and his skin is growing translucent as the lights heat up. He is quite uncomfortable. And waiting in the wings, heating in an incubator, is the Year 2001. So young and pristine. Year 2000 looks in the direction of his successor and silently sneers.

The reporter, an appropriately leggy twenty-something fake blonde with a microphone permanently implanted in her neck, is looking in a small mirror as the finishing touches of her make up is applied. A production assistant gives a countdown, Kleenex is pulled from the reporter's collar and Year 2000 tries to correct his slump in the chair. The lights become suddenly brighter and all eyes are on the departing year.

"So much was made of your ascendancy to power, 2000," the reporter starts. "But for the most part, you have failed to live up to even the kindest of estimates. What happened?"

Year 2000 coughs up a pocket of phlegm and spits to the side of his chair. "You have to remember, Mandy, that a year ago the world was afraid of being completely paralyzed by computer malfunction. That the lights would suddenly go out and human kind would enter a new dark age. As everyone knows, this did not happen. I fail to see how not falling into despair and looting is a disappointment on my part. Obviously I did something right, everyone can still watch their favorite TV shows without interruption."

Mandy, the reporter, gives a quick smile and then continues. "But the fact that your administration inherited a working electrical grid doesn't mean you did anything at all. The fact that the lights stayed on is more of a testament to your predecessors' preventive measures than anything you did."

"I think that's taking the narrow view, Mandy," the old year says, shifting once again his sash.

"Very well. What else would you say was an accomplishment of your year in power?"

"What about AOL/Time Warner? Wasn't that fantastic? A huge melding of new economy and old economy. The new media with the old into one huge melting pot of goodness and high speed access. How about that?"

Mandy, employed by Fox, chuckles. "Well, AOL stock is down almost two-thirds from its high at the announcement of the merger. The new economy has failed, and a recession is coming on. Would you like to take credit for that as well? And, you must realize, the merger still hasn't gone through. It might pass you by completely and happen during the next administration."

"But 'You've Got Merger!' Wasn't that a great catch phrase?" Year 2000 laughs, then coughs, then convulses, then coughs and spits to the side.

Mandy, sensing her opponent is on the ropes, continues. "Oil prices are up, the Presidential Election was a sham, we're at the beginning of a new ice age, dot coms are in the crapper, no one can expect to graduate from college and retire five years later, and where are the flying cars? Why aren't there any flying cars?"

"I never promised flying cars, Mandy. That was merely a fiction created by advertisers to give the public a false impression of what the future could bring. I never promised flying cars!" Year 2000 raises his hands and eyes to the sky, possibly hoping that a flying car would come crashing through the studio roof and crush the proceedings.

"Well, how about this? Here's an easy one. What was the best movie of your administration? What was the pinnacle of entertainment this year?"

Year 2000 looks at Mandy and nervously fiddles with his sash, which is quickly becoming strands of frayed cloth rather than anything recognizable as a symbol of power. "Gladiator?" he says weakly.

"Way too long and as it went on the fights got shorter and less spectacular. Much the same could be said about your year of power, 2000. Any last words?" Mandy is excited now, she's got her subject down for the count and her legs are quietly working her gander up.

Year 2000 glances back at the incubator containing his successor. So much waits for the little man who will take his crown. So much that 2000 is responsible for will be heaped, undeservedly, on the child who will soon be The Man.

"Fuck you! I did my best. Look at what I was given, and think about the expectations inherent in the Year 2000! I couldn't do any better, everything was against me. And that freakin' Cuban kid, like he was some sort of aborted fetus tugged between countries. What could I do? I couldn't stop any of it, it was all out of control and all I could do was clutch at myself and try not to laugh. Fuck you! Fuck you all! I'm out!"

The Year 2000 jumps up, rips his microphone off his sash, which falls to the ground as he steps away and then falls flat on his face because one leg gets caught in the remnants of his clothes. In seconds his body melts and disappears into the floor.

Mandy, beaming and thinking Emmy, quickly turns to her camera man and says, "Did you get that?"

Matt Worley has been seeing Mandy for quite a while, but usually they don't talk about work.