Numerous lawsuits were filed, but before they could be adjudicated, all the prisoners were released without any charges being filed, making those lawsuits moot. I had to admit, it was a clever strategy. Most of the same lawyers then filed civil lawsuits claiming their clients’ constitutional rights had been violated, demanding multimillion-dollar damages. Those cases immediately got bogged down on the badly overwhelmed calendars of local courts.

More troubling, an embargo was declared prohibiting any print or electronic platform from publishing any information about scheduled demonstrations. When The New York Times challenged that directive, its site was suspended for a day, and its distributors, both brick-and-mortar and online, were threatened with expensive legal action that might shut them down if they circulated the paper.

This time no demonstrations were held to protest the crackdown on demonstrations.

Not surprisingly, Wrightman was given credit for doing exactly what he had promised during his campaign: he had restored order. Once again, his approval ratings stabilized, then began rising. A submissive Congress began granting every White House request without holding public hearings or full disclosure. Essentially, they handed him a blank check.

At the Pro we worked through the turmoil with a growing sense of frustration. The administration’s relentless effort to change the subject had finally taken hold. The nation had moved on. Stories about the terrorists no longer dominated the front page, replaced by events like a sex scandal on the PGA tour, which allowed a delirious media to use words like balls and strokes in suggestive headlines. The contest to design the most attractive memorial for each terrorist site had practically become a national obsession. At Pearl Harbor, there was strong support for building a new bridge-like visitor center over the now-sacred wreckage of the old bridge-like visitor center. In Louisiana a recirculating river two feet wide by one foot deep along which lighted candles would float following the path of the flood past the ruins of Morgan City had been approved by the state legislature. In New York, a tastefully subdued pattern of lights that would change throughout the entire length of the Lincoln Tunnel was the favorite.

International tensions also had wound way down. Most nations were so pleased at the restored predictability in relationships and trade that they avoided provocations.

This passive acquiescence gnawed at my soul. It became a sore spot between Jenny and me. One night, after we’d finished watching the final episode of the The Crown’s eighth season (Queen Elizabeth II had survived!), I asked, “When did we become this nation of spectators?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” she said dismissively. “Please pass the remote.”

In my best Joe Pesci, “You think I’m funny?”

Eyes closed, face scrunched up, she gave me that “do we have to go through this again?” look. “What do you expect people to do? Go fight the terrorists themselves?”

“Isn’t that what we have those 300 million guns for? All that militia stuff?” I hadn’t told anyone about my night visit to the shaman’s world. But I sure hadn’t forgotten it, either. “Don’t you get it, Jen? We’re seeing exactly what the government wants us all to see: peace, security, and great television. But that’s not what’s really going on. That’s not the real story.”