Alice turned on her jacket’s NYPD flashing logo. A cold wind moaned as it slid past the large glass cube. What used to be Central Park lay across the deserted road junction, trees a plastic line peeking over the new perimeter wall. It was Sunday, the only day with visiting hours, and two lines had formed by the entry gate. A small band of protestors walked up and down, holding signs and chanting, their voices audible across the quiet interchange.