The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding, go out to meet it. —Thucydides
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Dr. Louis Slotin was a brilliant young physicist. Only thirty-four years old, he had been working at Los Alamos on the super-secret Manhattan Project since 1943. He was known to be a quiet, reserved man, and yet one who was attracted to dangerous assignments.
Perhaps that’s what drew him to an experiment that would ultimately kill him.
Most of us are in awe of the work done on the Manhattan Project. Names like Oppenheimer, Bohr, Fermi, and others who worked there defined much of nuclear physics research in the mid-twentieth century. Yet despite the magnificent brain power, one of the experiments that was required in order to construct an atomic bomb was surprisingly primitive.
“Critical mass” is a term that describes the condition that occurs when the amount of fissionable material brought together is enough to start a nuclear chain reaction. In an effort to determine critical mass in the Los Alamos lab, a human operator would bring two hemispheres of such material close together until the mass just started to go critical. A Geiger counter and a neutron monitor would gauge the radiation emitted by the two lumps of metal. The goal was to get the assembly to begin to go critical but stop before it became dangerously over-critical and released lethal amounts of radiation.
Louis Slotin had performed this experiment dozens of times using a simple screwdriver as a lever to control the approach of one lump of material toward the other. He referred to the procedure as “tickling the dragon’s tail.”
On a fateful day in May 1946, Dr. Slotin was in the lab. Amazingly, there were visitors in the room to observe the operation. According to an article on the Canadian Nuclear Society website,
The experiment involved creating the beginning of a fission reaction by bringing together two metal hemispheres of highly reactive, beryllium-coated plutonium.
Seven people watched as Slotin brought one hemisphere close to the other. The Geiger counter ticked a little faster.
Then Slotin’s hand slipped, and the upper hemisphere of metal fell onto the lower one causing a hard release of radiation. The Geiger Counter went crazy, then stopped completely, and people in the room reported a strange blue glow.
Slotin lunged forward and flipped the top hemisphere of beryllium off and onto the floor. Nine days later, Dr. Louis Slotin died in a hospital from the results of radiation poisoning. Miraculously, none of the other people in the room succumbed.
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I have read “The Strange Death of Louis Slotin” by Stewart Alsop and Ralph E. Lapp several times. Each time I read it, I’m surprised by the crude contraption used to determine critical mass. The scientists at Los Alamos would have known better than anyone else how dangerous a mistake could be.
I’m even more surprised by the willingness of anyone, especially someone with a clear understanding of the risk, to volunteer to run the experiment. But there are those people who not only enjoy a sense of danger, but even seek it out. Those to whom “tickling the dragon’s tail” is an essential part of their lives.
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It makes me wonder. Who are these people who enjoy living on the edge? Are there many of them?
Last week, Alan mentioned a test pilot friend of his had died while flying an experimental aircraft. It reminded me of books I’ve read about test pilots, and I wonder what it takes for a man or woman to climb into a contraption that’s never been tested before, and take off. I think of the Wright brothers, Charles Lindbergh, and Chuck Yeager.
And what about those ultimate test pilots, the astronauts? Can you imagine sitting on top of a rocket with a few hundred thousand gallons of fuel underneath you, and blasting off to be the first to land on the moon? Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin were willing.
Maybe those are the extreme examples. More down to earth (pun intended) are police and fire fighters whose livelihoods embrace danger.
And then there are fictional characters who refuse to back away like Atticus Finch, James Bond, or Sam Spade. How about Nancy Drew?
Writing mysteries, thrillers or suspense means we create characters who deal with danger in a variety of ways. Some are attracted to it, some run away, and others don’t seek it out, but stand and fight.
So TKZers: Do you have favorite fictional characters who love to push the envelope? How about the characters in your books? How do they handle danger?
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Private pilot Cassie Deakin doesn’t go looking for danger, but she lands right in the middle of it when she searches for the key to a mystery—and finds a murderer.
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