The 9/11 Machine

by Greg Enslen

  The 9/11

  Machine

  The 9/11

  Machine

  The 9/11 Machine

  Copyright © by Greg Enslen

  All Rights Reserved © 2011, 2015 by Greg Enslen

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system without the written consent of the publisher and author. Greg Enslen has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Enslen, Greg

  The 9/11 Machine / by Greg Enslen

  ISBN: 978-1-943768-18-7 (paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-940876-38-2 (ebook)

  Published in 2013 by Gypsy Publications, Troy, OH 45373, U.S.A.

  www.GypsyPublications.com

  Edited by Diana Ceres

  Cover Design by Pamela Schwartz

  This story is a work of fiction and, while based on actual events, is entirely fictitious. Certain events, incidents, and locations have been changed for dramatic purposes and in no way are meant to reflect actual events, incidents, or locations. All characters in this book, living or dead, are fictional or have been used in a fictional context. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, please see the author’s website at www.gregenslen.com.

  PAPERBACK PRINTED IN THE UNTED STATES OF AMERICA

  Books by

  Greg Enslen

  Black Bird

  The Ghost of Blackwood Lane

  Tipp Talk 2010

  The 9/11 Machine

  Tipp Talk 2011

  A Field of Red

  Tipp Talk 2012

  Tipp Talk 2013

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those who lost their lives on 9/11/2001 and to anyone who lost a loved one, family member, friend, or acquaintance that day. Even ten years later, the losses suffered on that day are still being felt.

  This book is also for my children: Xander, Annabelle, and Katie. Kids, this book is about 9/11, an event that took place before any of you were born. It feels strange to write that, but it’s true—for you, the attacks in Washington, D.C., and New York City are as much a part of ancient history as Pearl Harbor or the Great Depression.

  Many lives were lost that day, and the rest of us dealt with it in our own ways, struggling to move past the loss and the shock and grief of those events without allowing them to define us. None of you were alive ten years ago, but now it’s impossible for me to imagine a life without you. You children are a testament to the fact that, above all, life goes on.

  I love you.

  Foreword

  This book is intended to be a work of speculative fiction about the events of September 11, 2001. I have always thought that 9/11, the worst terrorist attack in the history of the United States, could have been a lot worse.

  World Trade Center. The hijackers struck the twin towers of the World Trade Center, destroying both buildings and shaking the nation’s financial center to its core. But they struck very early on a Tuesday morning during a mayoral primary, and a sizable number of people who should have been in the towers had not yet arrived at work. Normally, upwards of 50,000 people worked in the buildings on a daily basis, with another 100,000 passing through the seven-building complex and the large shopping mall built underground beneath the towers. Yet on the day of the attacks, only 2,606 people were lost, along with 147 passengers on the two airplanes. For purposes of comparison, I will not include the hijackers in any of these calculations.

  Conversely, in 1993, while only 6 people were killed when a car bomb was set off in the basement, it took well over two hours to evacuate the 50,000 people that were in both towers at the time of the attack. Improved evacuation systems implemented after the 1993 bombing, along with the primary and the fact that the hijackers struck very early in the morning before some employees had arrived, certainly contributed to a lower death toll on 9/11.

  Pentagon. The hijackers managed to crash a passenger jet into the Pentagon, the heart of the American military. But they somehow managed to hit the only part of the building that had been recently upgraded to much stronger construction materials, blast-resistant glass, and other improvements. The Pentagon was, at the time, undergoing an extensive retrofit. The location of the plane strike was the only “wedge” that had been upgraded. In addition, personnel had not yet moved fully back into this section, and between those two reasons, the loss of life was much lower than it could have been.

  Also, in 2001 the offices of the Secretary of Defense and other high-ranking military leaders were reportedly located on the uppermost floors of the E ring on the eastern side of the building, which faces the Potomac River, a large marina, and downtown Washington D.C. Yet the hijackers struck the western side of the building, far away from these important offices. If they had struck the Pentagon from the east, coming in over the Potomac, they would have been much more likely to strike near the offices of Secretary of Defense and other high-ranking military leaders.

  Flight 93. The fourth hijacked plane, United Flight 93, was heroically brought down by the passengers as they attempted to regain control of the hijacked airliner. One of the reasons the passengers were in the position to attempt to retake the plane was because the flight departure had been delayed 41 minutes, taking off from Newark Liberty International Airport in New Jersey. After the plane was in the air and the hijackers took control, the 41-minute delay allowed the passengers and crew to learn about the other planes that had been hijacked and that those planes had been used as missiles to strike important targets. If the passengers had not acted or if the flight had not been delayed in leaving Newark Airport, the plane likely would have, according to congressional reports, targeted either the Capitol building or the White House. The loss of either of those buildings would have been a crippling blow to the American psyche.

  I began to wonder what a person with foreknowledge of the event could, or would, do about it. Would they intervene and try to stop the attacks from happening altogether? And what if the authorities did not believe them?

  Fortunately (or unfortunately) as a writer, when I get an idea like that in my head, my brain will not stop churning until I write it all down. My thoughts, speculations, and extrapolations about politicians and ordinary people’s reactions to that foreknowledge transformed themselves, over several years, into this book.

  I offer one clarification. This book is not meant to belittle the suffering of anyone who was affected by the events of that tragic day. I think every American, and many people throughout the world, has been affected in some way by 9/11.

  This story is also not meant to second-guess any of the decisions made by those in charge, either before or after 9/11. As they say, hindsight is 20/20, so it’s easy for me to write about what might have been.

  One thing people rarely discuss when talking about 9/11 are the hijackers themselves. It’s still very difficult for some to believe that 19 men, armed with nothing more than box cutters, could have carried out such a devastating attack. It’s difficult to believe how four very inexperienced pilots with minimal training could have managed to pilot the massive airliners so accurately. Many professional pilots have stated that it would have been difficult to strike the targets as they did, especially in the case of the Pentagon attack, which required the plane be flown very close to the ground at over 500 miles per hour.

  The hijackers and terrorists used surprise against us. They took advantage of our open society to take flight training and acquire the basic knowledge they would need to use our own airplanes against us. The hijackers were clever, and their planners and supporters bold
, in bringing the fight to our shores and using our own technology—and, in some cases, our own bureaucracy—against us. But their plans did not cause as much damage as they had hoped, and one has to wonder whether it was incompetence, poor planning, or just dumb luck that saved so many people that day.

  For those interested in 9/11 conspiracy theories, you’ll find them in this book aplenty. I think there are so many conspiracy theories surrounding 9/11 because no one wants to believe that 19 men with little more than box cutters and a martyr’s zeal could have such an effect on history. People want to believe that larger forces were at work. I incorporate several theories in the book and discuss my skepticism about the major conspiracy theories in the afterword. But I don’t begrudge those who believe we haven’t heard the whole story. I understand that there’s a comfort in imagining that we were all victims of some grand scheme. The truth is probably closer to this—that we were all taken by surprise.

  For those interested in making a donation to support the families of those who fought and died on 9/11, I would suggest researching charities or donating to one of the few described below:

  9/11 Memorial: This amazing memorial at Ground Zero, located in the footprints of the towers, is dedicated to those who died on 9/11. I toured the perimeter on a trip in 2010 with my wife, when it was still under construction, and it was a humbling experience to see the construction firsthand. To make a donation, visit www.national911memorial.org. There is an interactive guide to the memorial, including detailed maps and animations and a detailed 9/11 timeline.

  Flight 93 National Memorial: This memorial is dedicated to the passengers and flight crew of United Airlines Flight 93, who fought back against the four hijackers aboard their plane, causing the flight to crash into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, instead of striking the intended target in Washington, D.C. Visit www.honorflight93.org.

  Friends of the Firefighters: I mention this great organization in the first chapter of the book. This organization was created in the wake of the 9/11 events to offer support to firefighters and their families. Their website can be found at www.friendsoffirefighters.org.

  I apologize if something in this book offends you. I tried to take what I know about our historical figures and extrapolate what they might have done in alternate universes. I’m not saying that 9/11 wasn’t horrible—it was. But I am saying that, looking back on it now, ten years later, I think we dodged a proverbial bullet. It changed our country, reminded us about the importance of foreign policy, and brought about many long-needed upgrades to our military and intelligence infrastructure.

  The events of 9/11 changed this nation and affected many people in many different ways. It rocked our nation to the core and is still, to this day, affecting people on a daily basis through increased security and the costs of waging two ongoing wars. But in this work of fiction, I propose a disturbing concept.

  It could have been worse.

  “They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.”

  Andy Warhol

  Part One

  1.1

  Quiet Reading

  Don sat on the edge of his daughter’s small bed, reading carefully through one of her favorite books. In this one, she had drawn curls of red crayon in the margins and over the pictures.

  He marveled at the thin, looping lines as they twirled around the blocky words that made up the page of text.

  The room was silent, as always.

  Don had tried to leave everything exactly as he’d found it; her toys and stuffed animals were just where she had dropped them. The nose of a green plastic frog peeked out from under the bed. The small jade plant she had won at school looked bigger now, of course, and the tree outside her window was taller. But inside, her room was preserved, as untouched as he could manage.

  There had been days when Don would just sit in her room, sometimes for hours. He would make plans, or ponder some particularly difficult engineering problem, or allow himself to daydream. Sometimes he would sit in here when he was trying to extrapolate future events from past occurrences, following the loops of time and predicting what might happen based on a particular set of circumstances.

  He did some of his best thinking here, sitting on the corner of her twin bed.

  It was nice, remembering what his life had been like. Sometimes, he even smiled.

  On occasion, he dusted her room and tidied up a little bit, but it was difficult to decide what to clean and what to leave alone. Two years ago, he’d finally washed the “Dora the Explorer” bedspread—it had grown too dusty, sending up little clouds every time he sat down on her bed. But he’d hated himself for washing it. He didn’t want any part of her to be gone.

  Last summer, Don had finally given in and reorganized her bookshelf. Princesses and Sesame Street and Elmo and dozens of other titles. He’d read many of them to her, but he’d been too busy to read them all. He hadn’t known at the time that there was a limited window of opportunity. Of course, no one would have blamed him—he had had his work and papers to grade and his plans and gizmos to tinker with in the basement office. Sarah had picked up the slack, reading to Tina every night before bed.

  But Don didn’t want to think about Sarah.

  Don liked to flip through the books, concentrating on the fact that he was probably the first one to do so since Tina had held them in her small hands. The books had been a mess after five long years of him taking them down and reading quietly through them, so in 2008, he’d spent a long weekend dusting and organizing the books.

  But Don tried not to move many of her things. This was his sanctuary, where everything was still the same. It was a museum to his past. It was a time machine—when he was in here, he could pretend that Tina would come walking through that door at any moment.

  In this room, he could pretend Tina and Sarah were still alive.

  Don stood slowly, putting the book back. He looked around the room, smiling, and walked slowly out of her room, closing the door gently behind him.

  He wanted to linger, but he couldn’t. He needed to get on with the myriad activities and errands that his life had become. He had things to do before he could leave for work. Don was also on edge because of the date. He thought every single person in the nation was probably nervous today.

  Ten years ago. It seemed like only yesterday.

  Don walked down the hallway, passing the walls decorated with faded pictures of his family. Sarah had put those up. He shook his head and pulled the front door open, stepping outside.

  Today was sunny, nice. And it was a nice neighborhood—Jericho, New York. A nice little town on Long Island, about a half-hour from the University of New York and an hour from the city. A funny name, he’d told Sarah the first time they’d walked through the home. A little too biblical for his tastes, he remembered telling her. She had giggled—he suddenly remembered, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. They had been following the agent, who was busy pointing out the home’s features, and Sarah had giggled and thrown him one of those looks she used to give him.

  Don’s stomach turned over.

  Sarah had loved the home, the lawn, everything, from the start. She’d made up her mind, even before they had gotten to the expansive kitchen, the room that ended up being her favorite in the house.

  Don leaned over and picked up the paper, flicking off the rubber band and pulling it open. He glanced at the paper and was reminded again of the momentous date—huge headlines screamed about the anniversary and memorial services to be held at Ground Zero and in D.C.

  Don glanced around at the grass between him and the street. Not long after she had died, Don had gotten a lawn service to take care of the yard. He told himself that he was simply too busy to be out here, mowing and pruning, but he knew that, on some level, he needed to preserve the yard as she’d liked it. She had always been out here, planting and pruning in the yard around their home, a habit that had given her so much pleasure. He didn’t have the heart to let the
flowers and bushes die.

  He tried to not look at the flowers around him. Now, he paid the service, and they kept her gardens up. He would occasionally glance out a window and imagine her out in the yard, hunched over some flowers or digging in the dirt in her ridiculous gardening outfit—faded jeans and a silly shirt with a fig leaf pattern that she had said reminded her of the story of the Garden of Eden.

  And then, of course, after a moment, the ghost would be gone. It wasn’t even a ghost—it was more like a shadow, moving over the grass.

  Don turned and went inside, heading into the kitchen. He flipped on CNN on the big TV in the family room and started his breakfast. He hated quiet rooms, as a rule, but quiet kitchens were the worst.

  “Anxiety levels remained high amid more warnings from the federal government concerning additional terrorist attacks,” the news anchor on the TV said as the commercials ended. “Homeland Security Director Tom Ridge assured citizens that everything that could be done was being done.”

  On the screen, the video changed to show Ridge, looking tired.

  “As we mark the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks in Washington, D.C., and New York, I want to assure the American people that we are more prepared, more ready than ever for any eventuality than we were on that day that, for many, seems like yesterday. The government, including the reconstituted Congress, is working hard to protect you and your children.”

  Don finished chopping up the ingredients for his omelet and heated the pan.