I’m going to go on record as having said that the world actually will end on Wednesday.
I’m typically no fan at all of hysterically uninformed weekend-science-desk pseudo-journalism but my undergraduate economics training (and a powerful intellectual tool that is) demands that I cast my lot with the doomsayers.
If you accept that:
1 — there is some chance, however infinitesimally small, that the Large Hadron Collider could cause us all to be swallowed by a black hole, or turned into a lump of strange space poo, or whatever, and
2 — that the world’s ending would be the worst possible outcome, unquantifiably bad, in fact literally infinitely bad
…then you’re bound by journalistic ethics and basic human responsibility to prepare your readers for the worst. Because the infinite badness of the apocalypse, even when multiplied by the vanishingly tiny probability that it will actually come to pass, leaves you with an expected outcome that is infinitely bad. In economic terms the expected value of the LHC project is negative infinity. I haven’t figured out what the units are but there’s really no time to worry about that, is there?
The big gaping downside of this prediction is that if I’m right, nobody will be here to congratulate me. So my choices are oblivion or ridicule. It’s the price you pay for being a visionary I suppose.