When I opened my eyes Howie was standing in front of my desk, his back to me; his sleeves rolled halfway up, hands resting on his hips, looking straight ahead at the wall of monitors, shaking his head. Even Howie was having difficulty organizing this reality. It appeared that for the first time in our history America had been attacked simultaneously from the East Coast to the farthest West Coast. Howie was wrestling with how to cover it, what angles we could take that would set us apart. How do we “do journalism” here?

“All right,” he snapped, turning around to face the room. “Bart,” he said, pointing at our youngest reporter. “You do the history. Every domestic attack since…”

“Howie!” another voice shouted with hesitant astonishment. We turned again and looked. The newsroom went silent. Two of the screens were now showing a still photo of a summer lake. Sailboats, children floating on inner tubes; it looked like a travel poster. “There’s another one.”

“Jesus. What?”

“They just blew up some dam in Louisiana.”

The story spread to the other networks. None of them had visuals, so they went back to their anchor desk. I began switching through the channels, catching snippets. The same words were repeated: Explosions. Gunfire. Casualties. Multiple deaths. Reporters racing to the scene. Information as soon as we get it. Some of the stations were broadcasting Google Maps footage from a place called Morgan City. It looked like a pleasant place. Seventy miles west of New Orleans. Sixty miles south of Baton Rouge.

Seconds later every cell phone in the newsroom began ringing, chiming, singing, and vibrating. The soundtrack of social media. Every single device. I glanced at my iPhone. Big red caps announced: PRESIDENTIAL ALERT! This was the first real-time use of FEMA’s new Wireless Emergency Alert System:

This is a message from the president of the United States, Ian Wrightman. Our country has been attacked on several fronts. We are meeting this threat with all appropriate measures. The greatest military and civilian police forces in the world remain ready to protect all Americans. We ask that everyone shelter in place until we can be certain these attacks have ended. We will keep you informed. We assure you that this attack on the foundations of our democracy will be met with our entire arsenal of weapons, righteousness, and the American spirit, and that those responsible for it will feel our wrath. God bless you and God bless America, President I. M. Wrightman.

I stared at that message, letting it sink in. Three simultaneous attacks, west to east and one in the deepest South. The meaning was obvious, delivered clearly: No American is safe, from west to east, on land or at sea, from the sophisticated cities to the deepest swamps. Every American is now vulnerable. Your government cannot protect you. We can strike anywhere.

The problem was identifying the we. Who launched these attacks? Where’d they come from? How many more would there be?