Bill Gates and Steve Jobs had gleefully come up with the same idea that green should be predominant in their new killer apps.
Charlie Manson studied for his parole review.
Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen were thinking clever thoughts.
Salmon Rushdie had just arrived at Heathrow Airport in London, where he proceeded to change cars four times, take three different cabs, use a body double while he stopped off and grabbed himself a Starbucks Grande Caffè Mocha (skinny, half-sweet with extra whipping cream!), then proceeded to drive to a parking garage, get out on the third floor, run down the stairwell to the second floor, get in the car (of a different make and colour) and drive to his heavily secured and fortified home.
In the United States, the bombing campaign was going quite well overseas. CNN was covering it live. The President was keen on numbers.
He liked his staff to be descriptive with the casualties. He liked to be told how many bombs were dropped on a particular target. He liked the footage from the missiles fired from his F-16’s. Sometimes he’d get to pick a target. He really liked that. He liked watching the little roads and towns of America from Air Force One.
Everything was normal. Women made less money than men.
Cancer was still being cured.
Coke was Pepsi.
Pepsi was Coke.
Somewhere, another GAP Ad was being erected on an apartment building. A bad TV show was being written; a car commercial filmed.
A baby cried.
A cat mewed.
A woman screamed.
A man surrendered.
A children’s baseball game was lost.
Celebrity life went on.