"Good people do not need laws to tell them to act responsibly, while bad people will find a way around the laws."
- Plato (427-347 B.C.)
September 11, 2001
New York had very few perfect days, but this looked like it was going to be one of them. Dave lingered in bed with Fuzz Ball curled up on his chest. Fuzz Ball was not sure he liked the change to City cat, but Dave’s Mom was not home very much and after Dave had gone off to college “The Fuzz” as they called him, had adopted Gramps. With Gramps gone, Fuzz Ball needed someone. So did Dave. Out his window he could just see the tip of the Empire State Building. He could see more of it from his balcony, which had been another selling point. Some mornings you didn’t want the windows open but today the air held the first nuance of autumn, not that it would be here for a while, but coming.
Dave glanced at the rosewood and brass clock sitting on his bedside table 8:30am. Most of the furniture had come with the apartment. It was old wood, coddled through generations with layerings of care. The bed was a four poster, also made of rosewood that was deeply etched, and looked as if it should be in a museum. That had initially made him nervous, but now he was used to it. His friends knew he had inherited some money from Gramps but not how much.
Stretching, he rolled out onto his feet, enjoying the softness of the Tibetan carpet. Its tones were muted reds and brown with roses edged in yellow tones. He had changed nothing about the room.
Fuzz Ball resettled himself into the pile of pillows and sighed.
The coffee maker was murmuring while he cut and sectioned a grapefruit for himself, placing the second half in a zip lock back in the refrigerator. Glancing at the paper briefly he poured himself a first cup of coffee. It smelled wonderful.
The phone rang just as he was taking his first sip.
“Hi there sleepy head; must be nice to be a man of leisure.” Nann’s voice always made him smile.
“Hey, I work hard. I was up until 3 last night working on the..”
“I know. Working on your business plan for the internet site.” Dave had never told Nann what he was really doing. He thought it was safer to keep that part of his life quiet. Anyway, there was a website and it was his business.
“Do you want to get together for lunch today? It is my last day in the Towers and Jim and I have some news for you.” Nann sounded excited.
“Sure. You are sounding mysterious.” He remembered that her company had moved now. She had been both happy to be further east, closer to her apartment and sad to be leaving the Towers, which held her favorite Godiva Chocolate store. Nann’s worst habit was those perfectly molded upscale candies.
“Not mysterious. Actually, we’re going to have a baby – and we are drafting you as godfather. What do you think?”
Dave was stunned. His mind erupted in thoughts all running around like ants colliding with each other.
“Nann. Of course, I would be delighted.” The ants were slowing down, just a little. “I am so happy for both of you.”
Mostly Dave meant it. One of those little ants carried the sad wish that he was the happy daddy to be, but those possibilities were now far away.
“I heard from Lindsey last night, late. Have you talked to her lately?”
Dave had never managed to discuss Lindsey with Nann. A couple of times he had wanted to, but not known exactly what to say. Talking about his emotions was not his strong suit.
“No, haven’t been in touch much. She called once to tell me she is back in New York.” Suddenly Dave felt the impulse to confide in Nann about his feelings. Maybe tonight, after he had some more time to think about it.
“Did she tell you that she and Dicks moved in together?”
“No. She didn’t mention that.” Dave felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He tried to keep his voice level and unaffected.
“Oops. There is something going on. I’ll see you at lunch. The restaurant in the hotel at twelve, right?” Their favorite eating-place around the Towers was the restaurant in the upscale hotel right in the complex.
“Sure. Noon. Take care of my godchild! Bye.”
Dave sat down at the dining room table; Lindsey living with Dicks. Suddenly the conversations they had had over the last several months came flooding back; things were falling into place. Lindsey had told him she was just coming out of a bad relationship. He had not mentioned knowing about Dicks. Obviously, neither of them had been entirely forthcoming. Did anyone really tell the truth about sexual relationships?
Bernard’s hotel, the Radisson Lexington at 48th & Lexington Avenue, reminded him of Malaysia in a curious kind of way. It was old, lavish and well appointed. Bernard had eschewed luxury since leaving Benron. He tried to eat, think, and live differently.
The Director, Evelyn Morton, had chosen the place. She said it was the right environment for entertaining potential donors and representatives from the countries who served on the UN committees they were meeting.
Before he had bottomed out and been rescued by Dan, spending this kind of money on luxuries would have bothered him. But now he was in wait and see mode.
The hotel was three blocks from the United Nations, which was convenient to both his brother’s apartment at the Watergate and the meetings that had been spread out through the entire week. The conference had come up rather suddenly, actually, arranged by some go-getters at the UN who had indicated they were willing to provide some real funding for research on the craziness of the legislation that had resulted in the Magnuson – Stevens Act. Bernard was tired. Even after emerging from the depression that had come so close to killing him, he still had moments when he wondered why the world made no sense.
So now he was with Peace for the Planet. Better to help the world’s fisherpeople than to pour his life into another large, corporate apologist. Green4Peace had seemed like such a perfect counterpoint to the first part of his life. He remembered, briefly, the letter from Loyal Barrington, smiling with a little grim irony. Loyal had gotten his idealism in early; was it too late for idealism? Bernard wanted to dedicate his skills not to the creation of wealth, which he had come to despise, but to making a difference to real people like the fishermen who were slowly but surely being snuffed out of business along the coast in New England. Bernard hoped this time the organization avoided being swallowed by the need for 401ks.
It had seemed perfect when he left Malaysia. At first it had been easy to justify himself. He had handed everything over to Fran, taking nothing for himself from the relationship. Dirty money, he thought, would only sully him. He knew that his abrupt about face had hurt Fran and the boys; the months he had spent carving and healing in the longhouse in the jungle had seemed to them like a midlife tantrum. They had not been able to see it as he did, and that difference in views had caused the alienation that had followed.
Fran had moved back to the small town where she was born in North Carolina and bought a house free and clear with part of the accumulated savings Bernard handed over to her. But that was it. No alimony or support had been forthcoming and Fran had run through the savings pretty quickly. Now, seven years later, she had finally remarried.
That was why, of course, they had not been excited about coming to the rescue when he had again flattened his nose, this time on the reality of the Environmental Movement. Through his work as Public Relations and Community Liaison for Green4Peace Bernard had gotten a clear view of what environmentalism was about - now. That different approaches were desperately needed to prevent events like the Love Canal was obvious; he knew that from his experiences with Benron in Malaysia and India. But the efforts to change things at home were heartbreaking. As you moved up within most of the organizations that were supposedly fighting for the environment, you found more and more people who worried more about their 401Ks than anything else.
Bernard knew that there had to be an answer. If he looked hard enough and long enough he would find it. The environmentalists were not perfect. But what else was there if you really cared about a better world? He enjoyed the challenges of working for the fisherpeople, and they sincerely appreciated what he could do. Perhaps that was all one person could ever do.
The night before Bernard had called Dan as soon as he got in and dropped his bags. Dan had wanted him to stay with them, but although Bernard was now back on his feet, head firmly screwed on straight, as Dan said, he was not ready for that. Instead, he promised to spend time with them the next afternoon. Dan said that if they had had more warning maybe he could have come with him to visit Charlie Howard the next morning. Charlie was another native of Clayton, North Carolina who had gone to school with Bernard and Daniel. Fran’s family and now Fran lived in Apex, to the south of them.
Dan and Charlie were working on a deal together at another investment house, this one in the Twin Towers. It would be fun to chew the fat over old times; that was what Dan had said just before hanging up.
Dave kept his television turned on low in the morning so he could monitor the news without having it intrude on the peace of the moment. He had finished dressing, still thinking about the revelation from Nann. He had eaten his grapefruit and scramble and was putting the dishes in the dishwasher when the tone of the announcer’s voice finally caught his attention. The time on the television was 8:46.
Dave turned slowly, unable to believe what he was seeing. Stopping only to tie his shoes, he ran out of the apartment and down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. The taxicabs along with other traffic were mostly stopped, watching. He began running south.
The scenes on the streets were unbelievable. It was as if a war had descended into that perfect day of late summer. He was looking right at the Towers when the second plane hit at 9:03. He screamed when it hit as if it were penetrating his body. He kept running. He ran south on Park until he reached Union Square, and from there went west on 14th. Everywhere people were stopped and looking, pointing at the skyline to the south. He turned south on 6th to Christopher and kept going. It was at the corner of Chambers and Hudson where he caromed off of another man who was also running, knocking him into a car.
It was from there that the two of them watched the first tower dissolve, melting into dust as it began falling. As they ran, the air was growing thick with dust; the piles of debris getting larger the closer they came to the complex that had just two hours before been the hub of the world. That was when he started seeing the bodies. They looked as if they had been exploded. Later, he heard other people who were there repeating the stories of burning victims hurdling themselves out of the windows at the top of the tower.
In the days that followed, those hours seemed to stretch in his mind until they took up years of his life. He found himself doing things he had not imagined. He staunched wounds, carried bodies, dug into twisted piles of glass, concrete and steel with his hands. Catching a glimpse of himself in a broken mirror, he was shocked to see that his skin was entirely covered with dust, matted on like the flour you roll chicken in before frying.
Looking back, Dave remembered the day in a series of vivid images. One of those was when he ran into Bernard, nearly throwing him into the parked car. Picking him up, they had run on together without word or plan.
He and Bernard had pulled a steel door off of a man dressed in a business suit. When they managed to lift it only half of him was there.
It was past midnight when they finally began walking uptown. It was comforting not to be alone, walking back towards a home that would never be the same again. Now Dave knew how that felt. He remembered what Gramps had said about the ground dropping out from under you and understanding just how fragile life could be. He had called Jim on his cell phone and finally gotten through. Jim was making the rounds of the hospitals but without much hope. Nann had been above the entry point of the plane in the first tower.
Dave went with Bernard to the Watergate; Bernard had been calling the apartment all day. Sandy and Erin had not seen Dan since he waved to them from the street, chatting on his cell phone. Dan and his family lived on the 28th floor. Sandy and Erin were obviously exhausted, too, but Sandy’s mother and sisters were sitting with them. Bernard invited Dave in and they went out into the kitchen and made something to eat for everyone. When they had finished putting together the simple meal of scrambled eggs and toast they could hardly eat.
That night they both slept on the living room floor. In the morning they headed back down to the Towers that were no longer there. Their absence on the skyline was haunting.
The next night they called Sandy and Erin to check in and went up to Dave’s place. Afterwards they could never remember why they just stuck together. They hardly talked those first two days. Perhaps it is the same kind of bonding that brings soldiers back together year after year to remember the most horrible moments of their lives; perhaps it was because they had been baptized in a new faith of reality by the time they had spent together the day before. It happened. It comforted each of them.
Dave was fixing some cold breakfast for himself and Bernard on Friday when he got a call from Lindsey. She had finally gotten through to Jim after trying for days, she said. Then the conversation just hung there. He could hear her crying softly over the phone.
“Look, Lindsey, I…” Dave had never been more at a loss for words.
“She was going to have a baby. She called the night before and asked me to be the godmother. We were going to have lunch together that day.” Lindsey’s breaths were coming very deeply and slowly. Dave could feel her trying to control herself as he digested her words with shock. He had known from what Nann had said that the two women had become close; for some reason this evoked a flare of anger. He took a deep breath and started to speak.
“How far along do unborn babies have to be to go to heaven? I’ve wondered about that….I’ll talk to you later.” Lindsey’s question shocked him into silence that continued long after he could hear the steady hum of the disconnect.
It wasn’t until Saturday morning that Dave and Bernard really started talking to each other about themselves. Later, Dave realized that Bernard, who seemed like the brother he had never had, was also the most politically liberal individual with whom he had had a long conversation.
It began when Bernard and he were having breakfast that Saturday. They were both tired down past the bone from the days of continuous lifting and carrying down at the Towers. They had agreed to spend some time recovering before heading back over there on Monday morning.
Dave had been almost out of coffee and about everything else. He walked down to the d’ Agostino’s down on 3rd Street as soon as he woke up. He noticed that they had fresh raspberries and recalled watching Nann eat raspberries the last time they had eaten together. Lindsey and she had shared a decedent chocolate and raspberry dessert.
Dave found out that mourning is not a singular experience but one that you take in small increments and at unexpected times.
Moving over to the coffee section helped.
Bernard was up and emptying the dishwasher when he walked in. Spying the food, Bernard smiled.
“Good man. Is it too much to hope for bacon?” Bernard had been spending his time at the apartment in the Watergate and here pretty equally. But there he felt like an outsider, and an unneeded outsider at that. He and Dave had become a team, helping where necessary. They had worked with the families of victims to put together flyers, done grocery shopping for everyone else, and worked in the local hospitals. That and working at the site of the disaster had consumed them.
Dan’s funeral was set for the next Friday. They had found him. They had still not found Nann. Dave accepted that given where she had been, they probably never would.
Dave put the bags down on the counter and Bernard began emptying them. When he pulled out the bacon, Bernard smiled. Some small normal things did remain.
They began really talking that morning. Dave had heard parts of Bernard’s story in dibs and dabs over the last days. Bernard had heard some slice of Dave’s. But there were many things that simply had not come up.
That morning, lingering over coffee, they finally did. Their immediate concern was not surprisingly why and how something like 9/11 could have happened at all. Why would a bunch of Arabs hate America enough to kill thousands of innocents and themselves as well? They hashed that over for a while. Dave favored the theory that the militancy of Islam was to blame; Bernard felt that American foreign policy was to blame. Arguing over the history of Israel and American involvement in the Middle East they had adjourned to Dave’s study for a reference book. That was where Bernard noticed the flyer from the National Convention the year before taped so that the quote showed on the board in Dave’s office.
Bernard touched the printing lightly with his fingers. Noticing what had attracted his attention Dave asked if Bernard knew Joe Sanfilippo. As it turned out, Bernard had known Joe.
Joe Sanfilippo had struggled to buy another boat. Failing that, one morning he had taken the small dingy he had bought in better days for his son and never come back. He had left a letter for the son that included the deed to the small house made over to him. The son had been put on the checking account; the saving account had been depleted and closed. He had been seen that morning heading out to sea. He old friend who had passed him, coming back from fishing, had waved. He said later that Joe had looked happier than he had seen him for a long while.
Dave remembered the minutes he had spent listening while the old man poured out his story into the ears of someone he thought could help him, his ears had heard but he had done nothing. Dave burned with shame.
When he and Bernard had found the book they had gone looking for, their dialogue had already moved on to other issues. Why the attack on the Towers had happened must be placed in the chains of causality that depend on knowing all of the facts and doing the right thing when the moment for action presents itself.
Bernard began with the story of how he became involved with the fisherpeople, moving on the sad changes he had seen in Peace for the Planet and before that Green4Peace.
They stopped for lunch in the mid-afternoon because they were too hungry to concentrate anymore. They hiked uptown to the Broadway Diner on Lexington for something solidly American. This was a place that Dave had never been to with Nann or Lindsey and that seemed like a good idea to him right now.
It was over the huge, juicy hamburgers slathered with mayonnaise and topped with real garden fresh tomatoes that Dave first heard the full story of Bernard’s life and Bernard heard the rather shorter story of Dave’s.
The two had ordered up malted milk shakes, Dave vanilla and Bernard chocolate. They were still talking when the straws were gurgling in the last vestiges of the creamy residue from the bottom of the long tall glasses. The straws were the nice wide kind that allows you to suck up even the thickest shake.
The waves of shock and sympathy from the world at large had eased their pain. These had been immense, coming from people of all kinds. They had cried and mourned for America. Bernard was hopeful that this event could be the beginning of a new understanding that would nurture world peace. Dave shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He hoped that would be the case, but he strongly doubted that would be the outcome.
Walking rather more slowly back towards the apartment, they continued to talk. They had both noticed the same patterns, coming at it from entirely different viewpoints. Bernard continued the story about his time in Malaysia working for Benron. Dave listened intently. The patterns of behavior could be charted as clear, understandable behavioral strategies if you ignored the rhetorical devices used. In other words, watch what they do, not what they say.
Benron had used its relationship with the US government to steal. They had done that by deceit, by putting pressure on foreign governments and by violence when nothing else worked. That was it in a nutshell. Corporations within the United States, at least some of them, did the same things.
They argued the issues, the people, the substance of the truth eventually getting down to the foundations. Bernard clung to a belief that government could be fixed. Dave, having abandoned this hopeful fantasy, had begun considering other means for the essentials of governance.
Most people, asserted Dave in the natal moments of that Sunday morning, just don’t understand what is happening. If they did it would be different.
It was the next afternoon, after they had both been unable to avoid sleep, that Dave finally told Bernard about the URL site. They do not agree about how to solve the problems; they did not agree exactly what underlies the problems, but they did agree on one thing. There is a war going on but it is being waged against the American people by the government.
The White House
Humstead could not believe his luck. After the initial scare it had been exhilarating, and it was kind of neat to be treated like a hero, which all of them had been. Sitting there, watching the towers come down, had been like watching a movie. There had been an intermission imposed by the evacuation. He had been hurried down to a secured location by grim faced Secret Service and uniformed servicemen.
Best of all, the War was now officially a go. They would have to put together a strike for Eben el Boraden, the Muslin leader known to be responsible for the actual strikes, but after that….Iraq had oil reserves that ached to be tapped. Iraq’s contracts with France and Russia brought no income into the pockets that mattered.
The Administration’s relations with Saudi Arabia had been under pressure because their own needs for money were outrunning the relatively low price on oil. Ironically enough, it was the ‘welfare programs’ offered as a birth right to all native Saudis that had sent their population through the roof and put pressure on what had once seemed like an unlimited source of wealth. The price of oil needed to rise. Sometimes the right set of actions can accomplish several goals. What had not happened during the Gulf War could now be accomplished. There must be evidence that Saddemun Hesistan had something to do with this. It only stood to reason. If they looked hard enough they would find it. Humstead planned every campaign in depth, leaving nothing to chance. The tools were in place, needing only to be activated with their subroutines.
He smiled. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
Jersey City
Tom had called her from his office in the Canal Street Journal, telling her to turn on the television. Seeing what was screaming from the screen, she ran outside and stared across the water at the Towers, clearly visible through the warm summer morning. She gasped when the first Tower came down, her hands pressing her mouth to keep from screaming. She had been getting ready to go over there to lunch with Nann. A small package she had just wrapped was sitting on the dining room table. Inside was a bib she had sewed by hand, embroidered the night before with “Lindsey’s Godchild.” Finishing it at two in the morning had been quick work. Lindsey had cut it from a piece of white flannel she had bought to make baby clothes for her own baby. She could not bear to get rid of the material after Tom talked her into the abortion. The baby still tied her to Tom when she remembered how he had held her and told her that they would have other babies, later when it was safe. Tom had told her about the threats against his life by the Quince Administration because he had the courage to tell the truth. Their relationship, and a family, would have to wait.
Her eyes could not believe what she had seen.
Slowly turning, she went back into the apartment. This apartment had a door leading directly into the parking area.
Once in, she ran to the phone and tried to call Nann. There was no answer. The next time she called there was no dial tone.
The day was a million years long.
Tom walked back to the apartment, covered with a thick layer of dust and bringing with him two security men from the Journal who were unable to reach their homes. They had walked across the bridge together. She grabbed Tom, crying; he hugged her hard. Then she dried her eyes, walking back towards the apartment and helped all of them clean up. It was nice to have something to do to keep her from thinking. She made a simple meal; cereal and milk. They were all starving. It was late after noon now.
Lindsey had answered the phone hearing the frantic voices of people she knew well who were also well known to the public. Tom had a lot of important friends. They were worried about her and Tom and were looking for reassurance.
Eventually, she got her mother on the phone, reassuring her that she was all right. But she wasn’t.
North Carolina
He had been up for several hours working on the computer and cleaning up before going to work. Right now he was employed running a crew answering inquiries for a cell phone company. It was not the kind of thing he had done before, but the massive burns he had suffered the year before on the job as a mechanic had made it impossible for him to continue the heavy work he had been doing. He would get back to it eventually, he hoped.
He was just buttoning his shirt over the still tender pinkish skin when the phone rang. It was Trudi. She had Bead right now and he could hear his daughter playing in the background.
“Turn on the news, right away!” Trudi was obviously excited. He could hear her television turned up loud. Trudi always woke up to the ‘This Morning Show’ even if she was not going to really get up for hours.
Coop turned on the set.
The first tower was dissolving before his eyes. He stood there staring at the screen and then slowly sat down. Russ, one of his Dad’s friends from Vietnam, had worked in the Tower. He had met Russ through Uncle Mike, his Dad’s best friend in ‘Nam. Uncle Mike and his Dad had agreed that last day that if anything happened to either of them, they would take care of each other’s family. Uncle Mike had been true to his word. Uncle Mike and Russ had been close.
Coop was not given to self-indulgence. He was at work only ten minutes late; he knew that cell phones were not as impacted by this kind of damage to their system as the land lines were with their dependence on hard wired centers and land strung phone lines would be. All phones would be in heavy use right now. When those you love could be in danger, you want to touch them with your voice. Coop briefly wondered how many Americans and people around the world were worried right now on the most personal level. From North Carolina he could not do much about that. He and his crew could not dig into the mountains of broken concrete, but they could do their part.
Later that day he went down and donated blood. Responsible people, good people, do the right thing automatically. No one has to tell them what the right thing is.
On the Road to Raleigh, North Carolina
John Mitchell had fired their attorney the week before. They had paid him every cent they could lay hands on over the last year, but still the Department of Social Services refused to even consider giving their kids back. Now John was determined to do it himself. He had written and rewritten the writ, painfully reading through the Black’s Law Dictionary and studying the rules of law.
He had found others who had managed to go into court Pro Se and defend their rights; he would do it too. This week he had prepared the writ that now rested in the neat manila folder in the back seat, three copies; one for the Judge and another for the court record; one for himself. None for the DSS; they could whistle for it.
They had not stayed for long in the house from which the kids were taken. It hurt too much to walk in hoping somehow to hear their voices. Now they were living closer into Charlotte where they could get to the courthouse and DSS faster. John had not worked in months, instead spending his time poring over law books.
He and Kathy had acquired an old Crown Victoria from friends. It worked; that it was less than beautiful did not matter.
Kathy leaned forward and snapped on the radio. It still worked, too. She smiled a little. They had spent so much time listening to music together and then with their children. She was looking for something relaxing, but all of the frequencies carried one message. Shocked, the couple listened.
John’s first reaction later shamed him. He felt like he had been hit in the gut with a stab of despair. He had called the media, asked them to come in and listen. Some had promised to show up. But the disaster at the Twin Towers would swamp the year long agony of his family, he knew that instantly. He had worked so hard to assemble these papers for the court. The folders in the back seat represented not just a painful assembling of evidence entirely refuting the DSS’s claims, they were his sweat and time and hope for the last six months.
When they pulled into the parking lot across from the courthouse, it was obvious that nothing was as usual. Grim faced military men were patrolling the outside. John reached over and squeezed Kathy’s hand.
No matter what, they would keep on keeping on.
Quentin in Quiet, New York
Gladys Elliot Ramsey and her daughter were headed to the train station. They had planned a day of shopping and late lunch with friends in the City. Since Emily had graduated from college and married, this kind of relaxed and fun day was a rare treat. The perfect weather made it even more special. Gladys smiled, looking at her daughter. They had both grown into wonderful women, women she was proud to have as daughters.
Emily had turned out despite what the family had been through. Gladys had struggled with the school where she was going nearby; they had not been sympathetic when mistakes in testing had misassigned the test scores of another student to Rachael. Emily, always at the top of her class, had found herself shuffled over to a nonacademic curriculum, taking her away from her friends in the college bound courses. It had taken two years to correct. At the last the principal had had the nerve to tell her that it didn’t matter because since Emily was so beautiful, she would never have to use her brains, anyway. Prejudice comes in all kinds, Gladys had learned.
Today all of the struggles were behind them.
The cell phone rang deep in Emily’s purse.
Looking at the phone Emily showed it to her mother. It was her brand spanking new husband. Gregory called frequently just to say hello.
“Hi there darling.” Gladys watched as the happy expression on Emily’s face dissolved in shock.
“Mom! Gregory is on the Western Highway. Traffic is absolutely stopped. Smoke is pouring out of the World Trade Center.”
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