Member Sections: Weird Rei Angela Wolfwood |
ephemerality.permanence1945 The year it came to be The fate’s decided many miles across the sea They told them not to fear They couldn’t be prepared Then came the day That not a single soul was spared -Blind Guardian Listen to my story. This may be the last chance to preserve our humanity. My name is Jules Robert Oppenheimer, and with the collective efforts of the United States of American and the backing of the President, I slew over 100,000 people in mere seconds. My sordid tale begins with the advent of World War II. Before the war began, we humans had come to the realization that atomic energy could be harnessed as a weapon, and that the so-called splitting of an atom held raw, incalculable power. President Franklin Roosevelt had given us the go-ahead. Albert Einstein had heard word of German scientists attempting to purify uranium, which could be developed into a massive bomb. Drastic measures had to be taken immediately. Already the race was on. I was appointed the Director. The Overseer. The Murderer. My job was to beat Germany in who could kill the most people first. We simply called it “The Manhattan Project”. It cost in excess of two billion dollars to see it to an end and took six years to develop. I was in charge of it all. I had limitless power at my fingertips. Every day was spent with the bomb. Each day I would walk down the corridors of our laboratory, overseeing death gradually take shape. I was the one to see this child to adolescence. I, after all, was the one who had conceived it. And I was the one who saw it go off and usher the world into a new age. The Nuclear Age. I hate to think that any good came out of the incident at all. I did, however, forge a somewhat of a friendship with one man. His name was Ken Bainbridge, and he was the Test Director of our Manhattan Project. Ken was of average height, a gentleman with a nervous tick, a bristly mustache, and rather unkempt hair. I recall that just about every time I saw him, he was wearing a tie to go with a sweat-stained, white button-down shirt. I remember much about the entire incident, some details more vividly than others. ------------ The bomb came a long way in the six years of its development, as had the war. Germany had lost, finally succumbing to the Allies, Hitler’s dream shattered, their conquest for nuclear domination scrapped. Japan, however, still tenuously held on, intent on pulling through and winning the war for themselves. But the bomb was now ready. The day I first saw it in action was an infamous one that will haunt me until I leave this mortal coil. It was July 16, 1945. I had been summoned to the detonation site several days earlier. That morning, I had awakened, barely having had time to do any sort of morning calisthenics or to even grab a cup of coffee. It was a short drive to the site, about half an hour from the military installation where I had been for several days previous. I dozed while an MP drove the olive drab Jeep off-road to our designated site. 4:35 A.M. I arrived at the bunker from where I would observe the detonation. The proposed area was located in Los Alamos, New Mexico. We were the only ones who knew about this test, but this would only temporarily be so. To preserve its secrecy, we referred to the site as “Trinity”. Ken was already there to greet me. “Good morning, Jules. Are you prepared to see the fruits of our labor?” he said. I groggily gesticulated in his direction. “Mornin’, Ken. Whatime izzit?” Ken yawned. “Early enough that I see you haven’t had any coffee yet.” “Is it ready? “In approximately 45 minutes, yes. You don’t want to rush with these things.” I silently agreed with this sentiment and rubbed some sleep out of my eyes, then recalibrated my joints. Perhaps it was due to my lack of sleep, but at this moment, I didn’t comprehend much. I knew this was an activity that demanded my complete attention, but I wasn’t fully prepared. Neither was I expecting what exactly was to come next. We all knew we had a bomb on our hands. It was big, and it was bad, but we were still unsure of its full potential. At 5:23, or thereabouts, we saw several engineers making haste back to the bunker. The time was near. Ken handed me a disposable pair of plastic goggles. He cautioned me, “Put these on so you don’t burn out your retinas.” To me, this belied the lack of humor of the whole situation. If this was an attempt to be funny, I wasn’t laughing. I strapped on the headgear and peered out the small slit in the low stone building. I couldn’t even see the bomb, but I knew how it was situated. It had been placed atop a tall platform on a steel pole several dozen meters above the ground. The bomb, of course, would be remotely detonated. I blinked. Before I realized what was happening, a loudspeaker began echoing over the vast wasteland. The countdown had begun. Ten seconds. I was glued to the wall, but was unaware of this. Ken pulled me back a step, I figured, so he could get a better look. 8. I saw him hold up a small apparatus connected to a mass of wires that went into a box. He flipped up a Plexiglas guard on top, revealing a bright red trigger. Not only was Ken in charge of the detonation sequence, he would be the one to personally set it off. 5. Destruction was imminent. 3. I held my breath and squinted intently over his shoulder at the omnipresent sand outside. 2. Here it comes. 1. Click. The sky exploded. A gargantuan fireball erupted into the still morning air. A deafening roar rolled over us. Intense light filled the bunker, and dust blew inside all over us. Some shadows near me moved around. We were miles away, but I still felt it. I closed my eyes, but I still saw the light; the light of a thousand suns. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. It was like watching a catastrophic car wreck. I tried to move, but I was transfixed on that spot. Radioactive vapor solidified while the light lessened. At 30,000 feet above the New Mexican landscape, an immense mushroom cloud began to materialize, a temporary reminder of man’s ingenuity; a terrible mark of man’s iniquity. Ours. For the first time, I truly saw my creation come to life. I could bear to look at it no longer. I turned around and looked down at the tiled floor. No words could describe this. Absolute silence permeated the area for about 10 minutes. The explosion gradually died down. Some other scientists shifted around uncomfortably. Debris and dust fell from the sky like dirty rain. I felt sick. My back was turned to Ken, but I felt I had to say something… something that would reflect the horrible significance of that situation. I spoke to the room. “So I have become Death… the destroyer of worlds.” Silence. Then I heard Ken say: “Now we’re all sons of bitches.” I turned around. “What now, is next for man? What great achievement still remains? What will our next atrocities be?” I said. Ken took off his protective eyewear and loosened his tie. His face, like mine, was covered with soot and dust, except where his goggles had been, leaving a prominent 8-shaped ring of flesh visible. He ran a hand through his hair and earth fell to the floor. I saw him pick up a dirty clipboard and scribble something on it. I don’t know if this was for form’s sake or not. He stood up and walked past me. “I don’t want to think about it,” he said. I later read the clipboard. TEST SUCCESSFUL ------------ The results had been incredible. Results. Aftermath. The steel pole on which the bomb had been placed was completely vaporized. The only thing left at Ground Zero was a wide ring composed of shards of radioactive green glass where the intense heat had melted the surrounding sand. I sat and watched some test footage many times over being of a house blasted backward off its foundation and bursting into flames. But our bomb was designed for people, not houses. We knew we had no power over what would happen next, and ten days later, my worst fears were confirmed. The new bomb we had detonated was not the last of its kind we would see. President Truman issued an ultimatum to Japan that day. It read, “If they do not now accept our terms, they may expect a rain of ruin from the air the like of which has never been seen on this earth.” Their cabinet promptly rejected that ultimatum. More bombs were made. I couldn’t change the future; our future, the one that I had begun. Several scientists fabricated a petition to halt the use of the weapons. I myself signed it. Later I heard that Truman had disposed of it. The path was set. We could not forestall fate. We could not prevent death. My epiphany had arrived too late. The power now rested solely in the hands of our leader, and our only option now was to trust in his decision. The man of power had nothing to fear When the finger hits the switch They’re far away from here Down in the sanctuary They’re hiding in down ‘ere The Sorceress of Justice Will be waiting for them there -Blind Guardian ------------ I recall in vivid detail the day where so many died. It was on August 6, 1945. I was sitting in my office. Its appearance was rather bland, furnished only with a beige file cabinet, a water dispenser, and the desk at which I sat. My papers were scattered over the desk like dead birds. I brooded silently, hands up under my face with interlaced fingers. I stared at the window, its sun-bleached blinds hanging in front of the glass. A large bubble erupted inside the dispenser. I waited. The door behind me opened. It was Ken. I didn’t even need to turn around to know this. “…Well?” I heard a lighter flick. “They did it.” Neither of us said anything. The acrid smoke from Ken’s cigarette curled lazily about the room, stirred around the ceiling fan, highlighted by the rays of light slicing through the blinds. It was like an old noir movie, but was presented to us in grim detail, not in black and white. Ken leaned against the file cabinet, as if his strength had left him. I sighed out the last of mine. I pushed myself up out of my chair and cracked the blinds so I could stare over the green lawn outside, as if I could see the fallout hanging over Hiroshima. Ken shattered the silence. “They’re dropping another in a few days.” “Shit.” I plunged both my hands down wearily and leaned, head down, on my desk. “They can’t possibly comprehend what they’re toying with.” “The President doesn’t,” he said, taking a long drag. “But at least we do.” ------------ Robert Rouis, the pilot of the Enola Gay, the plane that had dropped the first bomb, opened the hatch of the bomber and shot upward from the sudden loss of the payload. Rouis looked at the monster falling below him and had said, “My God. What kind of thing did we commit on this earth?” Remaining true to his words, Truman had Nagasaki bombed three days later. The bomb missed its intended target by over a mile and a half, but it didn’t matter. Nearly 40,000 people still died needlessly. Fallout still plagued the two cities for months afterward, and many more died from severe burns and rain that was polluted by radiation. Japan surrendered on August 10. We had finally won the war, but at what cost? Humans are truly amazing creatures. Our intelligence exceeds any other species. We have the ability to create, and we have the ability to destroy. Because of this, we are the only species that declares war. Why? Philosophers have been debating this for years. Perhaps we will never know. But if we continue on our current path, we will end up destroying ourselves far before any act of God does. Some have said that my contribution to science saved more American lives than those which were lost in Japan. To me, this is a moot point. Life is life is life, no matter how one looks at it. When I look back on my accomplishments, I start to get a sinking feeling deep within myself. We cannot change the past, but we can change the future. We must take action. We are the only ones who can prevent a nuclear holocaust. And, ironically, we are the only ones who can start one. |
