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"
This
is
our
world
,
now
,
our
world
,
"
Tyler
says
,
"
and
those
ancient
people
are
dead
.
"
If
I
knew
how
this
would
all
turn
out
,
I
'd
be
more
than
happy
to
be
dead
and
in
Heaven
right
now
.
Seven
minutes
.
Up
on
top
of
the
Parker-Morris
Building
with
Tyler
's
gun
in
my
mouth
.
While
desks
and
filing
cabinets
and
computers
meteor
down
on
the
crowd
around
the
building
and
smoke
funnels
up
from
the
broken
windows
and
three
blocks
down
the
street
the
demolition
team
watches
the
clock
,
I
know
all
of
this
:
the
gun
,
the
anarchy
,
the
explosion
is
really
about
Marla
Singer
.
Six
minutes
.
We
have
sort
of
a
triangle
thing
going
here
.
I
want
Tyler
.
Tyler
wants
Marla
.
Marla
wants
me
.
I
do
n't
want
Marla
,
and
Tyler
does
n't
want
me
around
,
not
anymore
.
This
is
n't
about
love
as
in
caring
.
This
is
about
property
as
in
ownership
.
Without
Marla
,
Tyler
would
have
nothing
.
Five
minutes
.
Maybe
we
would
become
a
legend
,
maybe
not
.
No
,
I
say
,
but
wait
.
