INTRODUCTION

On the morning of September 11 it was warm and clear in New York City, with just a hint of fall in the air. Going to work on days like that, you think how good life is, and you contemplate taking a stroll at lunch, walking home through the park, or heading out to a baseball stadium in the cool of the evening to catch one of our pennant contenders play in a game that really matters.

But as I stepped off a downtown bus at 8:50 A.M., all those pleasant thoughts vanished. For in America’s busiest city, with the workday just beginning, people were standing around, looking up at a thick stream of dark smoke.

“A plane hit the World Trade Center,” someone said.

There was no panic, just puzzlement: How does a plane, on a sparkling day, crash into a skyscraper so tall you can see it for miles? Something felt wrong. I hurried upstairs, logged on to America Online and turned on CNN.

Minutes later, I watched a jetliner zoom across the television screen and explode as it crashed into the Trade Center’s second tower.

The next thing I clearly remember was that my computer screen was filled with Instant Messages. The ones from friends were urgent and personal: “I’m okay. Are you?” The ones from AOL colleagues in other buildings asked the same question. Then, like people who work in media all across America, we moved quickly beyond our own reactions to practicality: “Let’s get to work.”

And so, minutes after the second plane hit the Trade Center, with two other hijacked planes still hurtling toward their targets, AOL set about reporting the awful events.

Updating the news—and throwing cold water on the rumors that raced across America—was only the start of the ways that AOL and other online services helped hold our country together that day and in the days to come. After all, news was available around the clock on radio and television, on many Web sites, and in special editions of big-city newspapers. And those sources did a terrific job in helping us comprehend the day’s impossible-to-understand events.

What online services and some Web sites offered, in addition to news, was something just as important and maybe more so: the chance to reach out and talk with a world of people who were at once distant strangers and immediate friends.

On a normal day, most of us don’t think of the technological miracle called “interactivity” as anything extraordinary. We read and send e-mail as if we’ve been doing it forever, even though for most of us it’s only been a few years. Teenagers who have scores of friends on their Buddy Lists come home from school and send Instant Messages to kids they saw just a few minutes ago, and everyone accepts that as part of the fabric of day-to-day life. It took September 11 to demonstrate what the ability to “find” people online can mean in times of crisis.

Terrorism is unlike other forms of war—its primary targets are civilians. And the point of terrorist attacks isn’t just to kill or wound the innocent; it’s also to break the opponent’s will to fight back. So hijacking jets and crashing them into buildings was only a prelude; the real detonations were to occur in the psyches of the American people, who were supposed to feel isolated and defenseless, betrayed by our country’s inadequate security—and horribly alone.

But when we went online that day, we weren’t alone. We reached out for friends and loved ones, only to discover that many of our friends and loved ones were going online to reach out for us. And then, once the overwhelming majority of us saw that our friends and loved ones were alive, we reached out to the larger online community.

In New York City, telephone service was disrupted by the attack; land lines didn’t work well, and even cellular service was spotty. People quickly discovered that online services were often the simplest way to communicate. Like my friends and colleagues, they began with Instant Messages; just on AOL, 1.2 billion were sent that day. They followed up with message board postings that, like the Instant Messages, had a common theme: “Have you seen . . . ?” Then, as the impossible fact of a terrorist assault on America began to sink in, people shared their fears and consoled one another.

At America Online, experts on terrorism and trauma streamed into virtual auditoriums—which remained open and staffed around the clock—and gave us advice about talking to our children and dealing with our own distress.

Every online service and hundreds of Web sites began publishing contact information for the Red Cross and other charities.

In days to come, “normal” process was forgotten. At AOL, and, I’m sure, at other online services and Web sites, people worked around the clock—we all understood that interactive media was Ground Zero of the American conversation about the attack and its aftermath. Special features sprouted everywhere: poems from teenagers, drawings from children, tributes to the dead and missing.

And it didn’t ebb. At AOL, numbers told us how important time online was to a hurting nation: unprecedented participation in AOL Live events, tens of thousands of message board posts, millions of votes in our polls, and millions of dollars donated. But even more meaningful was the shift—from confusion to resolve, from grief to inspiration—you could chart in the chats and on the boards.

That resilience is not limited to Americans; around the world, people triumph over circumstance. But there is something thrillingly American about 285,000,000 people getting knocked down, mourning their losses, and then dusting themselves off and setting out to rebuild. If how we behaved in our communities and online during those few weeks in September is any guide, the American spirit will be a greater challenge than any the terrorists have ever faced.

This book is a record of that transformation from shock and grief to resolve and rededication. For those who were online during those long days and endless nights, it’s a reminder of the stages we passed through; for those who weren’t online, the chronicle of reactions you’ll find here probably mirrors the reactions you experienced in your community. And, to give us a sense of perspective, we’ve included comments and wisdom from some of America’s greatest leaders and thinkers, from crises past to this latest trial.

It’s been hard for all of us since September 11. Two cities we love are crippled, and many, many others have suffered grievous losses. There are too many people on our Buddy Lists who aren’t around anymore. And the ripple effect of loss and grief sneaks up on us, as, we suspect, it sneaks up on you. But we have been freshly inspired as we have worked on this book. We hope you will find inspiration here too.

Jesse Kornbluth

Editorial Director, America Online