September 11, 2001 - 7:42 AM
Reed's alarm clock had been screaming for twenty minutes, but he was completely dead to the world. The night before had stretched until nearly 3 AM as he worked through calculations that refused to cooperate, his collaboration with Mount Sinai Hospital hitting yet another mathematical wall. The coffee had stopped working around midnight, but Reed had pushed through anyway, determined to crack the electromagnetic field equations before his brain completely shut down.
The phone rang, shrill and insistent. Then again. Reed groaned and fumbled for it, squinting at the caller ID through eyes that felt like they'd been rubbed with sandpaper. Dr. Sarah Johnson from Mount Sinai.
"Reed? Thank God you answered. Are you still coming in this morning? The meeting with the World Trade Center investors is at 9 AM sharp, and we absolutely cannot reschedule this again."
Reed sat up like he'd been electrocuted, his mind clearing with the cold shock of pure panic. The investor meeting. The presentation that could secure twenty million dollars in funding for their next-generation MRI technology. The meeting he'd been preparing for all week, scheduled for the 47th floor of the North Tower.
"Shit, Sarah, I'm so sorry. I worked until three and my alarm... God, what time is it?"
"It's almost eight, Reed. This is a twenty million dollar opportunity. These people flew in from Tokyo specifically for this presentation."
"I know, I know. Jesus. I'm getting dressed right now. Give me forty minutes, tops. Start the preliminaries without me if you have to, I'll join as soon as I get there."
"Reed, these investors don't wait for people. If you're not here..."
"I'll be there. I promise. Forty minutes."
Reed hung up and stumbled toward the shower, his brain doing frantic calculations. Subway downtown, security in the building, elevators to the 47th floor. If everything went perfectly, he could make it by 9:30. Not ideal for making a good impression on potential investors who'd flown halfway around the world, but salvageable.
Twenty-five minutes later, Reed was yanking on his best suit and grabbing his research files when someone started pounding on his apartment wall. Mrs. Patterson from next door was eighty-three and usually complained about normal sounds like walking or closing cabinets, but this was different. Urgent. Panicked.
"Dr. Richards! Dr. Richards! Something terrible is happening! You need to see this!"
Reed opened his door to find Mrs. Patterson in her bathrobe, her face white as paper and her hands shaking like leaves. "What's wrong? Are you having chest pains? Should I call an ambulance?"
"No, no, the television! An airplane! You need to see!"
She was pointing toward her apartment, her words coming out in broken fragments. Reed followed her inside, where her old television was showing what looked like a disaster movie. Smoke was pouring from a massive gash in the side of a skyscraper, and news anchors were speaking in those clipped, urgent tones they only used when the world was ending.
"We're getting reports that a commercial airliner has crashed into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The time was approximately 8:46 AM. We don't yet know if this was an accident or..."
Reed's stomach dropped through the floor. The North Tower. Where he was supposed to be in thirty minutes. Where Sarah and the medical team were probably setting up their presentation right now, forty-seven floors up in the sky.
"Mrs. Patterson, when did this happen?"
"Just now! I was making my coffee and I heard this terrible sound, like thunder but wrong. I looked out toward downtown and there was this huge fireball, and now..." She gestured helplessly at the television.
The camera showed the North Tower with a gaping wound in its side, smoke and flames pouring out into the clear September sky. Reed's tower. His meeting. His life that he was running late for.
"I need to call..." Reed started, then stopped. Who did he call? Sarah was probably evacuating. The hospital would be chaos. The investors were probably...
Reed pulled out his phone with hands that wouldn't stop shaking and dialed Sarah's number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried the main hospital line. Busy signal.
"Dr. Richards, you look like you've seen a ghost. What's wrong?"
"I was supposed to be there," Reed said, the words feeling like they belonged to someone else. "I had a meeting in that building this morning. I overslept."
Mrs. Patterson's eyes went wide as dinner plates. "Oh my dear God. Oh, sweetheart."
They stood there watching the coverage, both of them trying to process the impossible images on the screen, when Reed saw something that made his blood freeze. Another airplane, visible in the shot, approaching from the right side of the frame. It was flying low, too low, banking toward the second tower.
"No," Reed whispered. "No, no, no."
The plane disappeared behind the buildings for a moment, and then the South Tower exploded in a ball of fire and debris.
"Oh God," Mrs. Patterson gasped, clutching Reed's arm. "Oh my God, that was deliberate. Someone did that on purpose."
Reed stared at the television screen, his mind refusing to accept what he was seeing. Two planes. Two towers. This wasn't an accident. This was an attack. A coordinated attack on New York City, and he had been supposed to be right in the middle of it.
His phone rang. Dr. Johnson.
"Sarah! Thank God, are you okay? Are you out of the building?"
"Reed?" Her voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well, shaky and distant. "Reed, we evacuated right after the first plane hit. We're about six blocks north now, but Reed, the people above where the plane hit... they can't get down. The stairwells are blocked or destroyed."
The words hit Reed like a physical blow. If he had been on time, if he had made that 9 AM meeting, he would have been trapped above the impact zone. Forty-seven floors up with no way down and fire below.
"Sarah, get as far away from there as you can. A second plane just hit the other tower. This isn't over."
"A second plane? Reed, what is this? What's happening?"
"I don't know, but it's not safe anywhere near there. Go home. Just go home and stay there."
Reed hung up and realized his whole body was trembling. He looked at Mrs. Patterson, who was clutching her bathrobe closed and staring at the television like she was watching the world end.
"I need to get back to my apartment," Reed said, his voice sounding strange in his own ears. "I need to make some calls."
Back in his own place, Reed went straight to his window and looked south toward lower Manhattan. Even from the Upper West Side, he could see the smoke columns rising into the brilliant blue sky. The smell was already reaching him, carried by the wind. Acrid and wrong and full of things that shouldn't be burning.
He needed to call people. Ben. Where was Ben stationed now? Reed realized with growing horror that he wasn't even sure. Colorado? New Jersey? They'd talked maybe three times in the past two years, those awkward catch-up calls that never seemed to go anywhere real.
Reed scrolled through his contacts until he found "Ben Grimm Air Force" and hit dial. It rang once, twice, three times, then a recorded message: "The number you have dialed is not in service."
"Damn it." Ben had probably changed numbers when he got reassigned. Reed tried to remember if Ben had mentioned his parents' number during one of their conversations. The Grimms had moved around when Ben was in high school, and Reed had never really kept track.
He called directory assistance. "I need a number for Daniel and Helen Grimm in Queens, New York."
"I show three listings for D. Grimm in Queens. Would you like all three numbers?"
Reed took down all three and started dialing. The first two were wrong numbers. The third rang four times before a familiar voice answered, though it sounded strained and worried.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. Grimm? It's Reed Richards. Ben's friend from MIT."
"Reed! Oh, honey!" Her voice cracked with relief and fear. "What a terrible day to hear from you, but I'm so glad you called. Are you watching this awful thing on television? Those poor people in those buildings."
"Mrs. Grimm, I'm calling because I'm trying to reach Ben. I need to make sure he's okay. The number I have for him doesn't work anymore."
"Oh, sweetheart, he's fine. He's stationed in New Jersey now, at that McGuire Air Force Base. He called us about an hour ago, scared to death until he heard our voices. He knows we sometimes take the train into the city for shopping, and he was terrified we might have been down there."
Reed felt like he could breathe again for the first time since seeing the television. "Could you give me his current number? I really need to talk to him."
"Of course, dear. Let me find where I wrote it down. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely read my own writing."
Mrs. Grimm gave him Ben's number, and Reed dialed immediately. This time, Ben answered before the first ring was even finished.
"Hello?"
"Ben? It's Reed."
"Reed!" Ben's voice exploded through the phone, tight with stress and overwhelming relief. "Jesus Christ, man, I've been trying to remember your number for the past hour. Are you okay? You're still in Manhattan, right? Please tell me you weren't anywhere near downtown."
"I'm fine. I'm on the Upper West Side. But Ben..." Reed had to stop and take a breath. "I was supposed to be in the North Tower this morning. I had a meeting on the 47th floor at 9 AM."
The silence on the other end stretched so long that Reed thought the call had dropped.
"Ben? You still there?"
"Yeah." Ben's voice was completely different now, rough and shaky. "Yeah, I'm here. Reed, did you just tell me you were supposed to be in that building?"
"I overslept. My alarm didn't go off right, and by the time I got the call about being late, the first plane had already hit."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Reed could hear Ben breathing hard, like he'd been running. "Reed, do you understand what you just told me? If you had been on time, if you had gotten up when you were supposed to..."
"I know." Reed sank into his desk chair, the full weight of the morning crashing down on him. "I know, Ben. I keep thinking about it. If I hadn't stayed up so late, if I had gotten up when my alarm went off, if I had left my apartment twenty minutes earlier..."
"Don't." Ben's voice was sharp, almost angry. "Don't you dare do that to yourself. You're alive. That's the only thing that matters right now."
Reed looked out his window again at the smoke columns that were getting thicker and darker. "Ben, what is this? Are we at war? Is this the beginning of World War Three?"
"I don't know, man. The whole base is on lockdown. Every pilot's been recalled, and they're talking about grounding every civilian aircraft in the country. Nobody knows who did this or if there are more attacks coming."
As they talked, Reed kept one eye on his television. The images were beyond comprehension. People jumping from the buildings rather than burning alive. Emergency responders rushing toward the towers while everyone else ran away. The President being rushed to some secure location.
"Reed, I need to ask you something." Ben's voice had gotten quieter, more serious. "How long has it been since we really talked? Like, actually talked about our lives, not just those five-minute check-in calls where we pretend everything's fine?"
Reed had to think about it. "I don't know. A year? Maybe longer?"
"Yeah. Maybe longer. And do you know how fucked up that is? You're one of the most important people in my life, and I don't even know your current phone number. I had to call my mom to get it."
"Ben..."
"No, let me finish. I've been standing here in my flight suit for the past hour, watching this nightmare on television, and all I could think about was whether the people I care about are safe. And I realized I don't even know where you live exactly, where you work, who you're dating, what you're doing with your days. That's not okay, Reed. That's really, really not okay."
Reed felt something crack open in his chest, something that had been sealed shut for years. "You're right. It's completely fucked up. I don't know anything about your life either. I didn't even know you were in New Jersey until your mom told me."
"When was the last time we saw each other? Actually saw each other, in person?"
Reed had to think hard. "Tony's party? That toga thing junior year? Jesus, Ben, that was eight years ago."
"Eight years. Reed, we used to live together. We used to plan our whole futures together. We talked about flying to space together, and now I don't even know if you still give a damn about space travel."
"I don't," Reed said quietly. "I gave up on that when my NASA project failed. I've been doing materials research and teaching physics to undergraduates who mostly don't want to be there."
"See? That's exactly what I mean. Something that huge happened in your life, something that important, and I don't know about it. You went through that whole thing alone."
Reed watched the news show footage of people covered in gray dust, walking north away from the disaster like refugees from a war zone. "Ben, I think I've been going through most things alone that I shouldn't have been."
"Same here, man. Same here."
They talked for the next hour as the morning's horror continued to unfold. Reed learned that Ben was a Captain now, that he was engaged to a woman named Debbie who was a nurse at the base hospital, that he was up for a promotion that could lead to test pilot assignments with experimental aircraft. Ben learned about Reed's move to Columbia, his patents, his teaching, the string of relationships that had started promisingly and fizzled out.
At 9:59 AM, Reed was telling Ben about his work improving MRI technology when something on the television made him stop talking mid-sentence.
"Ben, something's happening. The South Tower... oh my God, it looks like it's..."
Reed watched in absolute horror as the South Tower simply collapsed. One moment it was there, damaged but standing against the sky. The next moment it was falling straight down, disappearing into a massive cloud of dust and debris that rolled through the streets like a gray avalanche.
"Oh my God," Reed whispered, standing up without realizing it. "Ben, one of the towers just collapsed. It just fell down. The whole fucking building just fell down."
"What?" Ben's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Reed, what are you seeing?"
"The South Tower. It collapsed completely. There's this enormous cloud of dust covering everything. I can see it from my window... the dust cloud is huge; it's covering like twenty blocks."
Reed pressed his face to the window, watching the brown-gray cloud expand across lower Manhattan like something from the end of the world. People who had been far enough away to feel safe were now running again, covered in debris, their faces wrapped with whatever they could find.
"Jesus Christ," Ben said quietly. "How many people do you think were still in that building?"
Reed couldn't answer. The number was too big, too terrible to even think about.
At 10:28 AM, they watched the North Tower collapse as well. Reed's tower. The building where he should have been, if not for oversleeping and bad timing and an alarm clock that hadn't done its job.
"That's where I would have been," Reed said, his voice barely audible. "That's exactly where I would have been, Ben. Forty-seventh floor."
Ben was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion that Reed had never heard from him before. "Reed, I love you, man. I know we don't say shit like that to each other, but I need you to know that. You're my brother, and I almost lost you today without even knowing it."
Reed felt tears starting to fall, tears he didn't even realize had been building up. "I love you too, Ben. And you're right about everything. I've been living like the people I care about don't really matter, or like they'll always be there no matter how badly I ignore them. That has to change."
"It does. For both of us."
They stayed on the phone until late that afternoon, as the full scope of the attacks became clear. A plane had hit the Pentagon. Another had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania, apparently brought down by passengers who fought back. The entire country was under attack, and everything had changed in the space of a few hours.
"Ben, when you get leave, come to New York. I want to see you. I want to sit in the same room with you and remember why we used to be best friends."
"I want that too, Reed. I want you to meet Debbie. I want to know what you're working on, who you're spending time with, what actually makes you happy these days."
"I want to meet Debbie. I want to know everything about your life that I've missed. Eight years, Ben. We lost eight whole years because we were too proud or too busy or too stupid to pick up the damn phone."
"Well, we're picking it up now."
"Yeah. We are."
After Ben hung up, Reed sat in his apartment as evening fell over a changed Manhattan. The smoke was still visible from his window, though the fires were mostly contained now. The city felt different, quieter, like everyone was holding their breath waiting to see what came next.
Reed thought about the absolute randomness of it all. If his alarm clock had worked properly, if he hadn't stayed up until 3 AM, if he had been the kind of person who arrived early to important meetings, he would be dead right now. Crushed under a million tons of concrete and steel, or burned alive, or jumped from a window because burning was worse.
The investors from Tokyo were probably dead. Dr. Johnson's medical colleagues who had arrived early for the presentation were probably dead. All those people who had done everything right, who had shown up on time, who had been responsible and professional, were dead.
But he wasn't dead. He was alive because he had overslept, alive because he was disorganized, alive because he had worked too late on equations that probably weren't even that important in the grand scheme of things.
And what had he been doing with that life? Working alone in his lab, teaching students who would graduate and forget him, maintaining professional relationships that were polite but superficial. He had been sleepwalking through his days, accomplished but isolated, successful but not really living.
Reed looked at his phone, scrolling through contacts he rarely used. He needed to call people, make sure they were okay, but also just... connect. Really connect, not just exchange pleasantries and hang up.
He found the number for his aunt Mary in Springfield and dialed. It rang three times before a familiar voice answered, though it sounded strained and worried.
"Hello?"
"Aunt Mary? It's Reed. I just wanted to call and make sure you and the kids are okay."
"Reed!" The relief in her voice was immediate and overwhelming. "Oh honey, we've been watching this awful thing on the news all day. Enid's been crying, worried sick about you being in New York. Are you alright? You weren't anywhere near those buildings, were you?"
"I'm fine. I'm completely fine. But Mary..." Reed had to stop and take a breath. "I was supposed to be in one of the towers this morning. I had a meeting there, but I overslept."
The silence stretched for several heartbeats before Mary spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "Oh my God, Reed. Oh my God."
"I'm okay though. I'm completely okay. I just... I needed to hear your voice. I needed to know you and Enid and Danny and Hope are safe."
"We're fine, sweetheart. We're all fine. But Reed, you were supposed to be there? In that building?"
"Yeah. Forty-seventh floor. If I had been on time, if I had gotten up when my alarm went off..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"But you didn't," Mary said firmly. "You're alive, and that's all that matters. That's the only thing that matters right now."
They talked for almost an hour, with Enid and Danny and Hope each getting on the phone to tell Reed how scared they'd been, how glad they were that he was safe. Enid was twenty-six now, working as a nurse in Springfield. Danny was twenty-four, teaching high school math. Hope was twenty-two, in her final year of college studying social work.
"Reed," Hope said, her voice mature but still carrying that warmth he remembered from when she was little, "I keep thinking about all those people who didn't make it out. All those families who are waiting for phone calls that aren't going to come. It's so random, you know? So senseless."
"I know," Reed said quietly. "I keep thinking about that too. All those people who did everything right, who showed up on time, who were just trying to do their jobs."
"What are we supposed to do with that?" Hope asked, her voice breaking slightly. "How do we make sense of something like this?"
Reed was quiet for a moment, staring out his window at the smoke still rising from downtown. "I don't know if we're supposed to make sense of it. Maybe we're supposed to... I don't know. Find ways to help. Find ways to make sure something good comes out of something this horrible."
"Like what?"
Reed found himself thinking about the first responders he'd seen on television, running toward the buildings while everyone else ran away. About the doctors and nurses who were probably working around the clock right now, treating people who'd been injured. About all the ways technology could potentially help in disasters like this.
"I... have... an... IDEA!" The words came out slowly at first, then with growing excitement as the concept crystallized in his mind. "What if we could build robots that could help in situations like this? Robots that could go into dangerous areas where it's too risky to send people? They could search for survivors, or deliver medical supplies, or help with evacuations."
"That's brilliant, Reed," Hope said, genuine enthusiasm creeping into her voice despite the circumstances. "Like, robots that could help save lives when humans can't get there safely?"
"Exactly. And not just for disasters like this, but for all kinds of dangerous situations. Fires, chemical spills, collapsed buildings." Reed was pacing now, his mind racing with possibilities. "They'd need to be highly engineered, built for rescue operations, with artificial intelligence sophisticated enough to make decisions in complex situations."
"What would you call something like that?" Danny asked, having picked up the extension.
Reed paused, thinking about his old golden retriever who had passed away just a few months earlier. Herbie had been loyal, brave, always ready to help, never hesitating to protect the people he loved.
"Herbie," Reed said quietly. "I'd call it Herbie. Highly Engineered Robot Built for Intelligent Emergency response."
"That's perfect," Mary said, her voice warm with understanding. She remembered how much Reed had loved that dog. "He would have liked that. Having something that helps people named after him."
"Yeah," Reed said, feeling something shift in his chest. "Yeah, he would have."
After they hung up, Reed called MaryGay, who started crying the moment she heard his voice and made him promise to come to Boston for Thanksgiving. He called Michael, who was in his final year of medical school now and had been thinking about Reed all day, wondering if he was safe.
"Reed, life's too short for us to lose touch like this," Michael said. "I've been thinking about that all day, watching this horrible thing on the news. We've got to do better."
"We will do better," Reed said. "All of us."
That night, Reed couldn't sleep. He sat by his window, looking south toward the empty space where the towers had been, thinking about the phone calls he'd made and the ones he still needed to make. He thought about Ben's voice when he'd said "I love you, man," and how long it had been since Reed had heard those words from someone who really meant them.
He thought about how close he had come to dying alone and unknown, with his last conversation being an irritated phone call with Dr. Johnson about being late to a meeting. How his obituary would have mentioned his patents and his teaching but probably nothing about the people who would have missed him, because he'd let those relationships wither through simple neglect.
The next morning, Reed called in sick to the university and spent the day writing letters. Real letters, on actual paper, with his own handwriting. To Ben, promising to visit New Jersey as soon as possible and asking him to bring Debbie to New York when he had leave. To Sue and Johnny, telling them about his work and asking detailed questions about their lives. To MaryGay, thanking her for the home she'd given him during those summers when he was learning how to be part of a family.