that fuss was in the future. In retrospect, that Sunday night would feel like a turning point, a hazy transition between one chapter of the disaster and the next. As the Task Force’s list of missing persons was recited over KENI and the responses streamed in over the phone, Anchorage appeared to be finishing off the last of its first kind of problems—the immediate and obvious ones that everyone in the community had been hacking through, collectively, since the moment the shaking started on Friday night. They were resolving the last, big question they were equipped to answer for themselves: Who
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