United 93: The Theatre was Packed

“We’re at war with somebody, stop all the flights!", said Sliney.

Indeed we are. Unknown actors made me hate them, and I am angry again. Kill all the terrorists.

Textured confusion. Tumbling close-up shots. Boston ATC! NORAD! New York. National Air Traffic Air Control Center, Herndon, VA. Fast camera hand offs, and shifting scenes. Fragments of dialogue, bits of questions. Voom, foom, zoom!! Noise and bits of sentences plummet up from the background. “A hijacking!? “ “We haven’t had one of those…” Little sideways v’s, dotted lines and flight numbers moving on monitors fill the screen. “AA117, Boston?” The Towers framed and fuzzy, smoking, seen through the hands above the New York flight controllers. Whispers in the aisle, “They flew two planes into the Towers”. “Two planes?” “We’re on a suicide flight”. “We have to do something”.

Phone calls, “Tell them I love them”. “I love you, goodbye”. “Honey, take the phone. Call your people”. “Our Father…” “Hallowed be thy Name”.

Deliberate, inexorable tightening towards an end we do not want to see, but need to watch.

And remember why we were angry then.

Why we must be angry now.

Why we must fight. There is no other choice. Kill all the terrorists.