WEBVTT

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I could never have imagined

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that a 19-year old suicide bomber

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would actually teach me

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a valuable lesson,

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but he did.

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He taught me to never presume anything

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about anyone you don't know.

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On a Thursday morning in July 2005,

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the bomber and I, unknowingly,

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boarded the same train carriage

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at the same time,

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standing, apparently, just feet apart.

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I didn't see him.

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Actually, I didn't see anyone.

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You know not to look
at anyone on the Tube,

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but I guess he saw me.

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I guess he looked at all of us

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as his hand hovered over
the detonation switch.

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I've often wondered, what was he thinking,

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especially in those final seconds?

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I know it wasn't personal.

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He didn't set out to kill
or maim me, Gill Hicks.

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I mean, he didn't know me.

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No,

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instead he gave me an unwarranted

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and an unwanted label.

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I had become the enemy.

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To him, I was the other,

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the them, as opposed to us.

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The label "enemy" allowed him
to dehumanize us.

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It allowed him to push that button,

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and he wasn't selective.

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26 precious lives were taken
in my carriage alone,

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and I was almost one of them.

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In the time it takes to draw a breath,

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we were plunged into a darkness
so immense that it was almost tangible,

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what I imagine wading
through tar might be like.

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We didn't know we were the enemy.

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We were just a bunch of commuters
who, minutes earlier,

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had followed the Tube etiquette:

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no direct eye contact, no talking,

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and absolutely no conversation.

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But in the lifting of the darkness,

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we were reaching out.

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We were helping each other.

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We were calling out our names,

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a little bit like a roll call,

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waiting for responses.

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"I'm Gill. I'm here.

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I'm alive.

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Okay."

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"I'm Gill. Here.

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Alive.

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Okay."

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I didn't know Allison,

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but I listened for her check-ins

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every few minutes