Opalescence- the Secret of Pripyat Read online

  A lightning bolt zapped the sky in a petrifying roar. The atmosphere was becoming gloomy. A torrential rain was falling. Contrary to popular belief, storms also raged in winter and the Zone was not spared.

  Andrei took me to a makeshift shelter that was nearby. Consisting only of a cover and a tarpaulin spread out between two trees, our refuge was dilapidated. I was confident that he would protect us from the flood. Squatting on the ground, we enjoyed a few cigarettes while watching the ballet of droplets smash here and there.

  Smoking in the area is officially prohibited, due to the threat of fire and the dispersion of radioactivity. The Zone was equipped with many sensors and warning systems to prevent such incidents. In winter the risk was almost nil and Andrei told me that most of the detection tools were out of order. With a cheerful smile, he placed a tiny lantern at his disposal, supposed to enlighten us a little. Above us, the tarpaulin seemed to struggle not to give in to the pressure of the water. It was strewn with cracks and I was not too optimistic about its longevity. The recurrence of lapping and the runoff of drops were still soothing.

  Placing a cup as an ashtray guide, Andrei began the conversation:

  —So you want to go to the Red Forest?

  —Yes, I will probably go there.

  —Are you afraid?’ he asked.

  —No,” I replied laconically.

  Andrei winked at me.

  —Fine. Don’t get lost! No one will pick you up there.

  —Do you ever get scared?

  —Not really. The guys did a good job on the new structure, the Zone is less exposed now. It seems that the old sarcophagus contained more than 150 square metres of cracks. They had to build it in a hurry with robots and helicopters. Can you believe it? It was a total panic. The guys hadn’t planned anything like that, it was all improvised. It must have been quite a mess.

  —Yes, I imagine that the population around here has suffered a lot from these failures.

  —Of course. But you know, the Ukrainians are not the most to pity. The wind dispersed much of the radiation to the North. It is estimated that 20% of Belarusians now live in contaminated areas. Almost a quarter of the territory is infected for all eternity. I mean, it doesn’t interest the western media.

  —I have read that some reports question the impact of the accident on health?

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  —Yes, it’s hard to know, there are not many studies available. We are only beginning to have the necessary perspective. The World Health Organisation and the United Nations concluded that the consequences of the accident were overestimated.

  —Haven’t thyroid cancers exploded?

  —They have increased, that’s true. But this is also due to the fact that the medical follow-up of the population has been much more thorough than before, mechanically more pathologies have been observed. You know, radiation has a cataclysmic connotation. The truth is that in some parts of the world, such as China, the United Kingdom and Iran, some people are exposed to much higher levels of radioactivity in natural contexts. The biggest victims of the disaster were the liquidators, those who were sent from the very first moment.

  —What about the inhabitants of the exclusion zone? I heard that some of them were still living here.

  —Yes, many of them have returned, including the Babushkas. These grandmothers are the real Chernobyl rebels. But they are not at much risk today. People like us even less so.

  —I am very intrigued by the Babushkas… You have already met some? I asked.

  —Of course, there are not many more and they are quite scattered, but you can find them quite easily. Although, almost all of them are close to the end. They’ve been here a long time, you know.

  —When this century is over, what will happen to the Zone? Do you think she’ll lose her aura? Is the Zone immortal?

  —I’ve been thinking a lot about the posterity of this place. Of course, the sarcophagus is planned for a period of 100 years, but what should we do next? Should a third enclosure be built? Will science have made enough progress? Some are already imagining the construction of a giant dome that would cover a large part of the exclusion zone. The future holds the promise of better materials, new technologies to solve the problem. Scientific progress is our lifeline. We cling to it as a comforting and unverifiable hope. Neither you nor I will be there to admire the result. I believe that the Zone will be eternal, but subject to permanent control. The danger will always be present, but controlled and contained.

  —Are the Stalkers doomed to disappear?

  He shrugged again, pulling his cigarette.

  —They will be forced to renounce. I guess they’ll just have to observe the Zone from the outside. Maybe they’ll develop ploys to get in there. Some will probably have the crazy idea of digging galleries. They will emerge on the other side of the ramparts thanks to their radioactive underground and any effort would be in vain. Employees working for the Zone will continue to be corruptible. What’s the point of sacrificing so much energy to lock down this space? It will never be inviolable. It never was.

  Andrei did not say any more words. He was confined to looking into the void and remaining silent until I called him out:

  —Tell me, what do you do when you’re not in the Zone?

  —Oh, nothing interesting. I am content to live,” he soberly assorted.

  Cigarettes were running out and the cold was gradually settling in. Little covered as usual, I was soon shivering. Andrei had noticed my discomfort. He plunged his head into his bag and almost miraculously took out two vials of Nemiroff. Eager for lightness, we worked hard to exhaust them. If my companion seemed insensitive to the effects of the sweet nectar, I for my part multiplied the sips with increasing ease; a sign that my judgment was deteriorating. The tarpaulin would hold up. So is my liver. I grabbed the small bottle of Nemiroff and emptied it with one stroke. The feeling of fullness was amazing. I was now ready to spend the night outside, to sleep without fear.

  The lantern was weakening, the darkness would soon invade us. Feeling my eyelids getting heavy, I took one last look at Andrei. He had fallen asleep silently, his arms wrapped around his bag in a somewhat tragic posture. I closed my eyes.

  We were woken up by the first light of day. The night had been short, but deep. Slavic spirits had played their part magnificently. Dreamlike epics had followed one another during my sleep. I had dreamed of being a warrior at the head of a Viking army, ready to strangle anyone who stood in my way and prevented me from protecting my own. My dream was disconnected from the Zone, as if my subconscious mind refused to care about it. My alcoholic imagination had numbed my limbs and fogged my mind. I struggled to get up.

  Andrei was already standing up, laying out an apple that he had carefully cut out. He winked at me and added, “I picked it up outside the Zone, you can eat it without fear.”

  Our breakfast was consumed, we tried to carefully pack our belongings and recover the various wastes, removing all traces of our passage. We were getting back on the road.

  Andrei was jovial, he walked whistling. “I will show you something. It’s one of my favorite places in the Zone.”

  The huge warehouse with the irradiated vehicles was nearby. The employees of the exclusion zone had placed the various devices there, which had been mobilised in the first moments of the disaster. As soon as their mission was completed, they had to be confined because of their radioactivity, which was considered too high. They were no longer usable and had no other purpose than to be stored until they were forgotten.

  The gate was blocked by inscriptions and dissuasive signs. A heavy lock had been installed to guarantee the place against intrusion. However, there was a ladder on the north face, so it was easy to climb up and reach the roof. From there, it was possible to enter through an air duct and then sneak into the various garages.

  Andrei handed me a mask. It was essential to limit the inhalation of dust and gas emissions, the nature of which
I preferred to ignore. The passage also had a foul smell that had to be overcome.

  We crawled to a kind of desk with multiple empty shelves. The light in the room obviously didn’t work anymore, I turned on my headlamp. Some filing cabinets were mouldy and piles of rubbish also released an infamous smell. We decided to go out and down the stairs to reach the basement. All kinds of vehicles were there. They were perfectly aligned, as if their owners had wanted to expose them to an excessive manic and narcissistic excess. The garage seemed much larger than from the outside. It had several floors, including an underground part housing larger models. Buggies were stationed at the upper levels. One of them seemed to me to be in excellent condition.

  —This thing still works, doesn’t it?

  Andrei replied to me in a blink of an eye.

  —Officially no one has used it for 30 years!

  I approached a small van with a Soviet logo on it. I tried to distinguish through the glass, but a thick layer of dust blocked my view. Andrei asked me: “Above all, don’t touch anything. This dirt is very harmful.”

  Beer cans were dying in a corner. The darkness was sometimes contrasted by meagre rays of light. Rebellious, they would sneak between the gaps in the wooden planks that were supposed to block the windows.

  Andrei moved carefully, with a meticulous and observant eye. He was looking for something. He explained to me that he had installed a motion detector on his previous visit. “I’ve always been curious about the number of people who come in here. This place is much less well-known than Pripyat. Access is considerably more difficult. This has not prevented 16 people from entering since last year.”

  He finally located the small box, hidden next to a toolbox. He inserted a new battery into his device and carefully replaced it. The detector was calibrated to detect only human presence, animals did not influence its measurements.

  —Why don’t you film it?

  —The absence of light makes it impossible to install a traditional camera.

  I offered him my thermal model. We had it discreetly covered with tires and various equipment that were lying around. My camera had an autonomy of several weeks and was connected by satellite, we would be able to view it remotely and know who was prowling around here.

  Satisfied, we tried to get out of the building and into the delicate passage through the ventilation duct. I was relieved to find the fresh air and its relative purity. The toxic particles I had probably breathed clogged my lungs and undermined my life expectancy by several months.

  Andrei seemed indifferent. He was used to evolving with these kinds of constraints and had to overcome much worse. I observed the way he moved, the way he looked. It seemed to know every corner of the Zone and to find familiar landmarks.

  As I frequented Andrei, I grasped his personality. He was neither a looter nor a daredevil in search of thrills. He defined himself as an authentic protector of the Zone. He wanted to observe it, to understand it, to defend it. He was a kind of forest ranger who looked after the exclusion zone as if he had the mandate to do so. It was his garden after all, his escape.

  He questioned me.

  —So, what’s your opinion on nuclear power?

  —I’m not the greatest expert on the subject. It seems that power plants continue to cause serious problems around the world.

  —Yes, recently in Japan… But technology is not to blame. These engineers did not correctly anticipate the effects of a tsunami on the reactor. Now the ocean is partially contaminated and hundreds of thousands of people have been displaced. According to the experts, evacuations were superfluous, but people would not have accepted a contrary decision. You know, specialists no longer have the confidence of the general public. That is unfortunate, but I understand them. This technology is beyond them. They don’t realise how much it has brought them. Obviously, nuclear fission is not the perfect process, it is only a transitional step towards even greater progress, the replica of the sun with nuclear fusion!

  —Isn’t this a mad rush? More and more powerful, more and more complex… I imagine that the risks are also increasing?

  —Not at all, but here again, it will be necessary to place blind trust in the experts.

  —So Chernobyl will never happen again?

  —Chernobyl is an unprecedented ecological and human disaster, but we could face much worse. Much worse…

  Andrei was scratching his chin, looking both thoughtful and terrified.

  —What are you thinking about?

  —Oh, you see, there is a…

  It is at this moment that an alarm sounds. A powerful projector came on, radiating a blinding light on us. Our cigarettes must have activated some sensors and the Zone’s warning systems had activated. Our indolence was repressed. Andrei pulled me by the arm. “Kneel down and come this way.”

  He led me to a small ditch below. Both of us flattened ourselves by trying to avoid any movement. Above us, the sounds of breathless men were heard. They were looking for us. The guards were rushing to where we were a few minutes before. One of them shouted to give us up. Andrei laughed.

  —They’re really not very talented.

  —Why do you keep smoking in the Zone if you know the risks?

  —I do what I want here, I am at home,” he replied dryly. The Zone is mine.

  His eyes were bright when he spoke these last words. This demonic glow that escaped his gaze made me uncomfortable.

  —Let’s go away,” he ordered.

  —I’m following you.

  Behind us, the men were screaming and seemed angry. Obviously, this was not the first time this kind of situation had occurred. As we fled through the woods, I understood one thing: Andrei was looking for this type of confrontation. He liked to torment authority, defy standards in dangerous conditions and emerge victorious with a final pirouette of which he had the secret. He was finally a player, he loved to test human characteristics and triturate weaknesses. I thought that one day he would repeat this behaviour towards me. I had to be on my guard, not to trust him more than he deserved. Already, I felt a certain paranoia inside me, precisely the one he had warned me about.

  The night was pure and cool, unclouded. The stars were perfectly visible. I couldn’t read them, but apparently Andrei was able to decipher them because he was adapting our route accordingly.

  —We’ve left the sensitive perimeter, they won’t look for us here, no matter what we do.

  I nodded as a sign of approval.

  —So you’ve never been caught?

  —Never, he replied, not without some pride.

  —I was intercepted by a soldier from day one.

  —If they’re alone, you can bribe them. A lot of Stalkers have been through this.

  —That’s exactly what I did.

  —Be careful, however, many of them have integrity. I don’t want to have to pick you up in a Ukrainian jail.

  —Do you know any people who didn’t have a good time?

  —Of course. That being said, it was a long time ago.

  —What happened? What happened?

  —Stalkers died, he replied laconically. A big fight broke out a few years ago, most of them were alcoholic. Finally, the army intervened and took the wounded abandoned on the spot. They hung themselves in their cells. Families sued, implying ill-treatment, but the investigation showed that this was not the case. I think they were out of their minds.

  —I have the impression that many people come out of here, their minds a little disturbed.

  Andrei had a diabolical little smile.

  —There’s still time for you to go.

  To his words, I remained mute for a few minutes. I finally broke the silence.

  —Are we going to spend the night there?

  —Oh, no, come with me. I know a camp nearby.

  —What? What? A camp?

  —Yes. At this time of year, it is almost deserted. But it’s not so bad, we’ll be more discreet.

  H
e chose the opposite direction to the one I would have taken.

  —This way, he asked.

  We made our way through the tall grass. They tickled our faces as we progressed. The ground was muddy and the snow seemed dirty. I was wondering who had the idea of settling in such places. I was not disappointed when we arrived. A small wasteland extended with a single tent within it. Pretty miserable, she was lying down against a tin shack. The smell was stinky.

  —It’s there,” Andrei exclaimed with a smile.

  He started to scatter his things and set up our shelter while I was inspecting the area.

  —What does it look like in terms of radiation?

  —Don’t worry about it! If you worry about that constantly, you won’t sleep at night.

  A sound of footsteps was heard. The owner of the tent already installed was arriving. He had a slow gait and wore a huge coat that covered him heavily. All he needed was a sceptre and he would have looked like a druid.

  —Here’s a new one,” he muttered.

  He had spoken these words with a hoarse and muffled voice, suggesting heavy consumption of alcohol and cigarettes.

  Andrei introduced us.

  —How long have you been living there?

  —It has been about fifteen years now,” replied the individual.

  He spat on the ground.

  —And I am not about to leave,” he continued.

  Andrei intervened:

  —Egor is a prowler. He’s a vagrant, he goes, he comes. He knows everything here and then…

  —It’s okay, I think he understood who he was dealing with, Egor said. What are you doing around here?

  —We triggered the alert systems because of our cigarettes, Andrei replied. The smoke betrayed us, but they didn’t get us.