We All Fall Down by Eric Walters

crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. At this time, and we are in the process of receiving updates, we do not know the size of the plane, nor do we know the reasons for the crash, whether it was a result of pilot error or equipment failure or deliberate.”
    Deliberate? Why would a pilot deliberately crash a plane? It would be like suicide … wow … a public, spectacular suicide for the whole world to see.
    “Got to be an accident,” somebody said. “You know how people are always buzzing around the buildings on those tours of New York, showing off the city for tourists. Just a matter of time, I guess … I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before this.”
    Suddenly a second television screen flashed over to the same scene. Then another picture, then another and another, until there was a whole bank of TV sets, almost all of them showing the same thing. Funny, all the pictures were the same, but some of them were slightly out of sync. Then I realized why. These shots were being beamed to countries around the world and then bounced back here. This was being seen,
live
, by people around the world! How unbelievably strange.
    Even stranger, this was all happening right outside our building, visible through the windows,but we were all in here, huddled around the TVs rather than witnessing it with our own eyes. Maybe it was because seeing it on the screen, validated by the unseen announcer at CNN, made it more real.
    No, that wasn’t it. Here, watching the screen, it was safe and sanitary. Looking through the window, with our own eyes, unshielded by the lens of the camera and the thick glass of the screens, it was too dangerous to look at, like staring up at the sun. By watching it on TV we felt removed, distant, and that distance gave us protection.
    “At this time,” the announcer continued, “we have no word on fatalities.”
    That’s right, there had to be injuries … deaths. The pilot of the plane, passengers, anybody who had been right there by the windows … the way
we
were right by the windows. That could have been us, a few floors lower and one building over. A shudder went through my body.
    The screen was now split into two parts. On the left side was the image of the building. On the right was an announcer. Suit and tie, perfect hair and teeth.
    “It would be expected that, aside from the plane’s pilot and any passengers aboard, there will be fatalities in the building from the initial crash and then the subsequent fire. It is reported that the plane crashed into the north side of the North Tower.”
    “That can’t be right,” Phil said. “We can only see the
south
side of the tower. It had to have hit the south side. It must have just buzzed by our building.”
    “Maybe what we’re looking at is where the plane came
out
of the building,” Suzie suggested grimly.
    “No way, that isn’t possible. There’s no way a little plane could pass right through the whole—”
    “I’m just receiving an update,” the announcer said, and Phil stopped. The announcer placed a hand against his ear. He was probably getting the information through his earpiece. “There is new information … it is now confirmed that the airplane that crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center was a commercial airplane.”
    There were gasps. This was now even more unbelievable, but Suzie was right. We weren’t looking at the place where the plane had crashed into the tower, this was where it had crashed through the other side.
    “While it is too early to know the exact number of fatalities in the building or on the plane, it can only be assumed that all passengers have perished. I repeat, it is assumed that all passengers aboard the plane have perished.”
    I heard whimpering and turned around, away from the TV. There were two women, both crying, with their arms around each other. A third woman was crying just behind them and there was a manbeside her, working hard to force back the tears that I