Frederik Pohl - Chernobyl

"Ah, I see," the older man nodded. "In this respect. But in others? Did the Director instruct you to use substandard materials?"

And with a flourish he produced that copy of Literaturna Ukraina, with the article calling attention to the disastrous conditions of Chernobyl's projected fifth reactor-defective materials, poor maintenance, slipshod management. It seemed clear, the Chekist said sorrowfully, that it was not the suppliers who had tricked Smin with substandard cement and flawed piping, it was Smin who had conspired to cheat the State, heedless of danger to the property of the people.

"But that was about Reactor Number Five. And it was not defective material that caused the accident," Smin burst out. "In any case, none of that material was used in essential construction-it was all discarded, and only satisfactory materials were employed." But that only led to the succeeding charge, that under Smin's management three thousand bags of expensive cement (substandard or not, what was the point of trying to defend himself in that way?) had been allowed to stay in the open until rains soaked them and turned them into blocks of crumbly stone, while scarce and costly steel piping (oh, that, too, was defective, Comrade Smin? But how much defective material did you accept, after all?) was allowed to rust. And then there was the question of the baths. "Why such lavish ones, Comrade Smin? Did you think your workers were ancient Romans?"

"Workers dealing with radioactive materials must be allowed to shower when necessary," Smin pointed out.

"So magnificendy?"

"After all, we had plenty of hot water," Smin snapped.

"And plenty of high-grade tiles?"

"No," Smin said strongly. "Of that, none in surplus; all the good tiles went into the turbine room. But the rejects were good enough for the bath."

"I see," said the investigator. "But why, please, did you endanger the plant by making the reactor more explosive."

Smin sat up in bed at that one. He blinked at the man. "What did you say?"

The KGB man peered at his notes. "You are stated to have authorized an increase in the uranium-two-thirty-five content of the core by eleven percent. That is, from one point eight to two percent of the total uranium."

"J authorized that?" asked Smin, astonished. "But that was the Chief Engineer's decision. I merely initialed his order. And that did not make the core more explosive. It went the other way, in fart. It was to reduce feedback between steam generation and the nuclear activity of the core."

The KGB man looked at him without expression. "You admit, then, that you approved this change. And at the same time you took out some graphite, is that right?"

"We reduced the density, yes, if that's what you mean. It was part of the same procedure. But in that case I believe it was Director Zaglodin, not I, who initialed the order. In any case, really, that was more than two years ago!"

The older Chekist sighed and glanced at his slim, obviously foreign wristwatch. "We promised we would not stay more than twenty minutes," he reminded his colleague.

"Oh, but I feel quite able to answer questions, Comrades," Smin said. "Of course, you're very busy. I suppose you've already questioned Comrade Khrenov?"

There was a change in the temperature of the room. The younger man said curiously, "For what purpose do you suppose we would be questioning Personnel Director Khrenov?"

"Perhaps because he was there, as I was not?"

Now the man was careful. "Are you suggesting that Comrade Khrenov was in any way involved in the accident?"

Smin thought that over. Then he said justly, "No. I'm not. At worst, I am only saying that he was on the scene because he thought the experiment would succeed, and then he could claim some credit for it. But I have no reason to think he blew the reactor up; that was left to the operating technicians themselves."

"We will take note that you see no wrongdoing on Comrade Khrenov's part. After all, how could there be? It wasn't a matter of personnel that caused the accident."

"Wasn't it? But I think it was, Comrades. It was actually utter stupidity on the part of the entire control room crew that caused the explosion. One by one they turned off every safety device, and then they were surprised that the reactor wasn't safe any more."

The elder man said mildly, "Are you trying to shift the blame for your failings of leadership onto someone else?"

"Not at all! But what kind of leadership can there be when the First Department takes on the kind of people who drink, and stay home when they should be on duty, and even run away?… Still," he added thoughtfully, "in a sense, I suppose you are right. The decisions of the Party congress to bar drunkenness and absenteeism were not merely Khrenov's responsibility to follow. I could have been more ingenious, I suppose. I managed to find uses for substandard tiles by putting them where they could do no harm. I suppose I could have done a better job of finding unimportant jobs for useless people."

Hie men from the organs looked at each other. "Well," said the elder, standing up, "we must not tire you in your condition, Simyon Mikhailovitch. Perhaps on another day you will be feeling more cooperative."

Smin closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillow. All he said, without looking at them, was, "I wouldn't count on it."

What Smin needed more than anything else at that moment was a bedpan. Fortunately the nurse came at once. When he had relieved himself she began taking the screens away, Smin watching her.

"I don't suppose you are a drunk," he told her gravely.

Although nurses are used to hearing all sorts of things from their patients, she gave him a quick, puzzled look. "Me a drunk? What an idea!"

"But it is strange, isn't it, that our Soviet women drink very little, while the men pour it down. Why is that, do you think?"

"Drunkenness is a great social evil," she told him severely. "The decisions of the Twenty-seventh Party Congress-"

"Yes, yes, the decisions," Smin said. "But why do our men drink? Because they have jobs they don't like, for which they are not paid enough, and the money they are paid can't buy them the things they want. Isn't that true? But if it is true for men, how much more true it must be for women! Wouldn't you like to have an electric dishwasher? A blow dryer for your hair?"

"I will have those things soon enough," she said properly. "The production in consumer goods is increasing all the time."

Smin smiled up at her with real fondness. He said, "You are a very good girl."

When she had gone away, looking puzzled, he lay back and closed his eyes. The interview with the GehBehs had tired him more than he had expected. He really should go out to speak to the head nurse about Sheranchuk, he thought. He was determined to do that, very soon… but first he allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment.

When he opened them, one of the doctors was standing over him, a smile on her cool face. "And how are you feeling now, Deputy Director Smin?"

"I will feel better," he said at once, "if you put Leonid Sheranchuk in that other bed. It's lonesome here."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "I believe Comrade Sheranchuk has requested the same thing. Perhaps it can be arranged. You should properly have a room of your own-"

"I don't want a room of my own! I want Sheranchuk here."

She said, "What you want, Comrade Smin, is to get better, and that's what we want too. It is up to the hospital director to decide if having him as a roommate will be good for you. Now, I asked how you are feeling."

"Very tired of being in hospital," he said. "Otherwise not bad."

"But that is only a temporary remission, you know." She hesitated, then asked him in an accusing tone: "Did you do something to your dosimeter?"