Chernobyl

Chapter 32

It is eighteen days after the explosion at the Chernobyl power plant. Every television set in the Soviet Union is turned on for an important address, and Mikhail Gorbachev appears on the screen. His face is grave but his bearing assured. He begins to speak.

"Good evening, comrades," he said. "As you all know, a misfortune has befallen us — the accident at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. It has painfully affected Soviet people and caused anxiety in the international public. For the first time ever we have had to deal in reality with a force as sinister as nuclear energy that has escaped control.

"So what did happen?

"As specialists report, the reactor's capacity suddenly increased during a scheduled shutdown of the fourth unit. The considerable emission of steam and subsequent reaction resulted in the formation of hydrogen, its explosion, damage to the reactor, and the resulting radioactive discharge.

"It is still too early to pass final judgment on the causes of the accident. All aspects of the problem — design, construction, operational, and technical — are under the close scrutiny of the Government Commission.

"It goes without saying that when the investigation of the accident is completed, all the necessary conclusions will be drawn and measures will be taken to rule out a repetition of anything of this sort."

Thirty kilometers from the reactor, Private Konov was bent over his meal, but his eyes were fixed on the little television screen. He hardly knew what he was eating. A pity; it was a chicken, bought from a local farmer, and pronounced fit by the technicians after they had run their detectors over its feathers and even up into its opened belly. "He sounds like we'll be here a long time," the soldier beside him grumbled.

"We'll be here until the job is done, Miklas," Konov snapped. "Please be still! I want to hear this." And Gorbachev's voice went on.

"The seriousness of the situation was obvious. It was necessary to evaluate it urgently and competently. And as soon as we received reliable initial information, it was made available to the Soviet people and sent through diplomatic channels to the governments of foreign countries.

"In the situation that had taken shape, we considered it our top priority duty, a duty of special importance, to insure the safety of the population and provide effective assistance to those who had been affected by the accident.

"The inhabitants of the settlement near the station were evacuated within a matter of hours and then, when it had become clear that there was a potential threat to the health of people in the adjoining zone, they also were moved to safe areas.

"Nevertheless, the measures that were taken failed to protect many people. Two of them died at the time of the accident — an adjuster of automatic systems and an operator at the nuclear power plant.

"As of today two hundred and ninety-nine people have been hospitalized, diagnosed as having radiation disease of varying degrees of gravity. Seven of them have died. Every possible treatment is being given to the rest."

In their flat in Kiev, the Didchuks and the old parents were clustered around their set. "He has not mentioned the children who were evacuated," Mrs. Didchuk fretted.

"But none of those are suffering from radiation disease," her husband said soothingly. "After all, you spoke to our daughter on the telephone just yesterday."

"I do not want to speak to her on the telephone! I want to hold her in my arms!"

"Soon, my dear. And now, look! Comrade Gorbachev is angry!"

He was at least scowling as he said harshly, "I cannot fail to mention one more aspect of that affair. I mean the reaction abroad to what happened at Chernobyl." He paused for a moment. His expression softened as he went on. "In the world on the whole, and this should be emphasized, the misfortune that befell us and our actions in that complicated situation were treated with understanding.

"We are profoundly grateful to our friends in socialist countries who have shown solidarity with the Soviet people at a difficult moment. We are grateful to the political and public figures in other states for their sincere sympathy and support.

"We express our kind feelings to those foreign scientists and specialists who showed their readiness to assist us in overcoming the consequences of the accident. I would like to note the participation of American medics Robert Gale and Paul Terasaki in the treatment of affected persons and to express gratitude to the business circles of those countries which promptly reacted to our request for the purchase of certain types of equipment, materials, and medicines.

"But—" and now he was scowling—"it is impossible to ignore and not to assess politically the way the event at Chernobyl was met by the governments, political figures, and the mass media in certain NATO countries, especially the U.S.A.

"They launched an unrestrained anti-Soviet campaign.

"It is difficult to imagine what was said and written these days—'thousands of casualties,' 'mass graves of the dead,' 'desolate Kiev,' that 'the entire land of the Ukraine has been poisoned.' And so on and so forth.

"Generally speaking, we faced a veritable mountain of lies — most brazen and malicious lies. It is unpleasant to recall all this, but it should be done. The international public should know what we had to face. This should be done to find the answer to the question: What, in actual fact, was behind that highly immoral campaign?

"Its organizers, to be sure, were not interested in either true information about the accident or the fate of the people at Chernobyl, in the Ukraine, in Byelorussia, in any other place, in any other country.

"They were looking for a pretext to exploit in order to try to defame the Soviet Union and its foreign policy, to lessen the impact of Soviet proposals on the termination of nuclear tests and on the elimination of nuclear weapons, and, at the same time, to dampen the growing criticism of U.S. conduct on the international scene and of its militaristic course.

"Bluntly speaking, certain Western politicians were after very definite aims — to blast the possibilities for balancing international relations, to sow new seeds of distrust and suspicion toward the socialist countries…."

In Warner Borden's flat he rose to refill Emmaline's glass, but she put her hand over it. "No more, please," she said. "I've got to get back to my own place, but thanks for letting me watch your TV."

"Don't thank me," he smiled, holding the wine bottle ready in case she changed her mind. "Thank old Gorbachev. He's sure putting on a show."

Emmaline hesitated. "Actually, I think he's got a point—"

"About what? About what the papers said in America? Well, hell, honey, if the Russians had just come out with some real facts, all that speculation wouldn't have happened."

"I suppose so," Emmaline said thoughtfully. "Anyway, he did mention the American doctors."

"Sure. One line. And now — listen, he's getting started on disarmament. You don't want to miss this — and, look, there's just another drop in the bottle; we might as well finish it off."

"The accident at Chernobyl," Gorbachev was saying, "showed again what an abyss will open if nuclear war befalls mankind. For inherent in the stockpiled nuclear arsenals are thousands upon thousands of disasters far more horrible than the Chernobyl one…

"The nuclear age forcefully demands a new approach to international relations, the pooling of efforts of states with different social systems for the sake of putting an end to the disastrous arms race, and of a radical improvement of the world political climate…"

But in Simyon Smin's room at Moscow's Hospital No. 6, no one heard the last words of the whispered voice from the television set, though Vassili Smin was gazing at it, his eyes brimming with tears. His brother Nikolai was leaning against the window with his forehead pressed against the glass, his eyes closed. His mother was looking into space with an expression that was neither angry nor sad; it was the baffled look of a woman who would not have believed things could have gone so badly for her.

On the other side of the room his grandmother was closing his father's eyes. The plastic drapes had been pushed back. The blood-exchange machine sat silent, its lights dark. Simyon Smin looked as though he were sleeping, his mouth open, the broad, friendly face a mask.

"What did he say before, that nine persons were already dead from Chernobyl?" Aftasia asked. "Now it is ten."