Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

With my flashlight, I was looking for remains, clues that could inform me about this camp and unlock some of its secrets.

My gestures were measured, almost fearful. I had the impression that I was profaning a sacred place. My eyes were drawn to a black shape near a tree stump. A toolbox was present. I dug it up carefully by clearing the snow and mud from it. The lock was dislocated, I had no trouble opening it. Inside the commonplace objects for the most part: a few nails, a screwdriver, an English wrench, a rather archaic Geiger counter. The equipment looked American.

I grab the counter. Having a back-up device could only reassure me. I powered it with two batteries I had at my disposal. It worked but its accuracy was questionable. Dissatisfied, I turned it off and threw it to the ground. The meter provided by Oleksandr would be enough for me.

I slowly walked away from the clearing, resting my arms on the snow-covered birches. These first discoveries had whetted my curiosity. I needed more than that.

I was progressing randomly, improvising my way. I felt that I was approaching, my instincts could not be mistaken. I finally saw a glow through the branches.

He was there, trained and imposing as I had imagined so many times. The sarcophagus glittered in a freezing darkness. He had suddenly appeared in my field of vision like a shooting star, both magnetic and elusive.

Noises of ventilation and busy men were coming out in the distance. The Zone was under video surveillance, but whatever. I approached the gigantic structure in wolf steps, determined to examine it more closely. This huge dome that contained the famous reactor No. 4 fascinated me.

Once I reached the edge of the forest, I had to walk in the open. Nervous, I gradually pressed the pace, glancing furtively around me. Long perimeter walls lined with barbed wire surrounded the complex. I had no intention of entering the sarcophagus anyway. Oleksandr had informed me of the increased risks of such a company. In addition, the place was far too protected, making it really inaccessible.

According to Oleksandr, the installation of the new sarcophagus at the end of 2016 had reduced the intensity of radiation by nearly 90% around the reactor. Indeed, despite the repeated rattling, my Geiger counter displayed 0.20 microsieverts which was a ridiculously low level considering my position so close to the heart of the plant. In order to perfect my discretion, I decided to disable the device and store it in my pocket. I now proceeded blindly, completely concealing the radioactive danger of my progress.

The sarcophagus enclosure was particularly high-tech, in contrast to the general decay of the Zone. Thus, many motion detectors and infrared cameras were regularly arranged to locate intruders like me. The place was too sensitive, the stakes too high. A further explosion of the reactor and the whole of Europe would be condemned, destroyed by radiation and contamination. Fortunately, the engineers —these modern heroes— had done the job brilliantly and designed this huge 11,000-ton steel arch, postponing the problem to other generations.

I tried to get closer, trying to get around the main entrance. My strides were getting faster and faster, maybe too fast. My feet got caught in a barbed wire knot that the darkness had prevented me from seeing. I fell backwards and pushed a swearword to curb the suffering. I was hoping the barbed wire hadn’t pierced the flesh, my toe was probably bleeding. Nevertheless, I kept on going, faltering and weakened.

As I progressed, I felt an increasingly sharp pain that spread throughout my entire foot. Lesser, I was forced to stop to heal myself. The wound had to be bandaged to avoid infection. My bandage was sketchy, but effective. I was ready to go again.

As I got up, I came face to face with a big, nervous dog. Surprised almost as much as he was, I stumbled and found myself ashore again. With joy, he started barking and jumping, noisily betraying my position. The voices of intrigued men were heard. I had to run. The dog was imposing, but seemed too old to chase me. I hastily fled through the forest, leaving the animal behind me and the silhouette of the sarcophagus evaporating in the night.

51°18’19,31”N 30°03’57,66”E

Duga was very close, I could feel it. I was heading towards him. I didn’t really know how I knew about it anymore. Probably I have heard about it by randomly wandering the Internet during my periods of insomnia. Its story was surrounded by a rather bewitching mystery. I had to go there and observe it.

The Duga site was located about fifteen kilometres south of the city of Chernobyl and was supposed to be a secret and therefore unknown to the general public. Nevertheless, the road was frequently used by military vehicles and maintenance personnel. I had to make my way through the forest in order to remain discreet.

Four hours of walking were necessary for me, during which I met many deer, lynx and even a wolf. I finally arrived at the site, a little nervous and impatient.

Soviet propaganda was still visible on the walls of the buildings at the entrance to the complex. There were inscriptions and slogans in the Cyrillic alphabet as well as representations of Soviet officials in advantageous positions inciting admiration and reverence.

Once occupied by hundreds of soldiers and scientists, the complex was now inhabited only by a guard and his dog named Tarzan, a jovial and dedicated German shepherd. Fortunately, the animal was asleep and did not wake up when I passed by. As the area was fenced, the checkpoint of entry was the best way to get there. I crawled on all fours under the window of the small building where the guard was dozing noisily.

With wolf’s steps, I ventured into the complex while holding my breath. There was no way to wake the sleeping dog. I had crossed the compound and entered the forbidden perimeter. I guided my steps serenely towards Duga, whose silhouette rose above the treetops, piercing the pale blue sky with its countless metal rods. It was necessary to progress a few hundred meters on a path along the forest before reaching the thing. The structure was huge. I was thinking that in foggy weather it would be impossible to distinguish the summit.

This steel monster, whose existence few people knew about, deserved as much attention as the city of Pripyat. The object of fantasies for its dimensions and occult character, it fed all kinds of more or less smoky theories combining paranoia, mysticism and secret ambitions. It must be said that the place was intimidating. The radar was up to 150 metres high and nearly 600 metres long. By its size and appearance, it seemed to come straight out of a science fiction movie. Its hidden position in the middle of the forest made it an enigmatic building, a kind of sacred totem pole. It was the cathedral of Chernobyl, a unique work of which the Soviet Union had perhaps never revealed all the mysteries.

The undeclared objective of such a facility was to detect American-made intercontinental missiles and thus protect the territory from an attack considered imminent by the Soviet staff. The titanic project had disadvantages, the main one being to alter commercial and amateur communications. As a result, European radio broadcasts and air transmissions were affected, causing various disruptions.

From 1976 to 1989, the beast emitted at a frequency of 20Mhz with a power of 10 Megawatts jamming the radio waves of all Europe. Despite the vain protests of private individuals, the radar continued its activity and its defence mission. He was acting in the greatest secrecy and with general indifference since no one knew of his existence, and even less of his location. It was only recently that this Soviet military base had become popular in the eyes of the general public. Previously, it was either concealed or falsified by the mention of a youth summer camp on the various maps.