"It's still yesterday," says a rescue worker interviewed in the Sept. 11 documentary Collateral Damages. From the look on his face, he clearly means it almost literally. Of course, nothing could compare to the experiences of those involved in the attacks firsthand, but watching this triptych of Sept. 11-themed films, it's easy to feel the time between now and then collapsing a bit. Étienne Sauret's 30-minute WTC: The First 24 Hours is pretty much what its title suggests: Footage from the first 24 hours of the attacks and their aftermath. The mostly wordless film simply presents Ground Zero, the dust-covered surrounding areas, and the city's immediate rescue efforts. As a document, it's invaluable, and as a viewing experience, it's somewhat shocking. Sauret avoids showing carnage, but with visions of Sept. 11 no longer common in the media, it's bracing to see them brought front and center again. Collateral Damages serves as an unofficial sequel to WTC. Talking to firemen and other city workers, Sauret finds shattered tough guys all coping, but only barely, with their personal losses and the trauma of witnessing the attacks' effects. One admits to employing "defense mechanisms" even at the time, mentally turning a pile of corpses into a stack of cows and dreading the day when those mechanisms fail. What emerges is a picture of people who went above and beyond the call of duty and came back scarred for their heroism. Or, as another interview subject puts it, "We're just garbage men. We ain't supposed to see this stuff." Sauret's approach isn't the most artful, but it doesn't have to be. Hearing his subjects speak for themselves is good enough. A memorable touch of art begins the program, however, and though it predates Sept. 11 by several years, it couldn't be a better fit. Zbigniew Rybczynski's 1987 short "Imagine," set to the John Lennon song of the same name, pans along a seemingly endless series of identical rooms as characters come and go, love, break up, give birth, and live with the World Trade Center never out of sight of their center window. Lennon's call for a "brotherhood of man" has never seemed so poignant, or so pointed.