SEVEN minutes out of lower Manhattan, and I've landed in the downtown Twilight Zone. The clocks still run on Governors Island. The buildings appear recently painted. A schedule still adorns a bus kiosk, announcing regular pickups and drop-offs. Signs announce the hours of a barber, a movie theater, a restaurant. A swing set looks as if a child has just run inside for lunch. But there's no one alive here on this creepy and magnificent spit of land smack dab in the middle of New York Harbor's Upper Bay. Not if you don't count the Canadian geese who have full...
