A new figure had wormed his way into the nuclear station on the 25th of April though it would be difficult to know with the safety gear covering most of him. There was a static air of excitement about him although his looks would say differently.
If the appearance of illness ever became a trend than this man may just be the one to start it. The pale skin and the fading blonde hair gave him the look of someone who stepped into the wrong era and would have been better suited in the Victorian Romantic period just before the drug abuse kicked in.
He was the kind of figure who, even without the uniform, would blend in with a crowd and never be given a second glance at. No one would know if he was there or not and that was the way he liked it. It made his job easier to manage. His work took him all over the world and with each new location; he was given a new name.
For arguments sake, let us refer to him as Mr White (1).
Mr White's predecessor had retired not so long ago. Time had not been kind to him. The workings of two particular men, Jenner and Fleming, had made his job unusually difficult. A short while after that, he had decided to retire and allow the new comer to take over his position.
They were big boots to fill (2). To prove him worthy, the successor had to start off his record with an explosive beginning. This brings us nicely back to why he was currently standing in the middle of a nuclear power plant.
It was his baby. It was his pride and joy. He had a helping hand in assisting with the designs, but the mathematics had proven difficult. It had meant he needed help from the outside. The effort it took to find someone would be worth it when Chernobyl goes down in history. He was well connected even if he preferred to work alone. It had helped to get him this position.
Surprisingly, Mr White didn't understand how nuclear power stations functioned exactly. He only knew how they didn't. That was the key advantage he had over the others in the station. It was not the only one.
He hummed under his breath and tapped a finger against the clipboard. The discoloured nail, unlike the rest of his appearance, was hosting signs of new life forming underneath. Had anyone taken the time to glance over at them properly, they would have been horrified at the state of them.
A small smile appeared on his thin lips as he read on. According to the latest report, they had scheduled a routine maintenance shut down on Unit 4 reactor and, to his immense delight; his whispered suggestion had made it to the ears of supervising engineer Anatoli Dyatlov. Dyatlov and a handful of operators had decided to perform a test to determine whether cooling the core could continue to be ensured in the event of the Chernobyl nuclear plant losing power.
His sleeve was tugged up to reveal a rusty stained watch. It was 1:00am. The experiment was already in progress. He would miss the results if he didn't hurry.
Mr White detached the report from the clipboard and threw it all over his shoulder. Papers danced about his feet before settling onto the ground. He was gone by the time the last sheet floated down.
He left the business side that was the administration building and went behind to the unit buildings in a hurry. Slipping through the crowds to the ideal area was no easy task but due to his bland appearance, he was able to pass the guards with little hassle and got inside. That had taken twenty minutes precisely.
Problems were already rising when he arrived.
The operators were arguing amongst themselves in a mix of Eastern European languages. Mr White was well versed in these but even he was struggling to understand all that was spoken. Piecing together the translated phrases he picked up on, there seemed to be a problem with the rods.
He wandered through to the control room where the bickering was still taking place. There was a vast range of flashing lights and electronic sounds screaming out at him. His fingers itched to press every single one of the buttons but resisted. The pain-staking process was already in operation; what kind of person would he be to further disrupt it?
Two workers were shouting at each other. Mr White noted the frequent appearance of the word 'dangerous'. That one word alone perked up his interest. If action wasn't taken soon then the reactor would blow. It was fortunate that he had chosen to arrive when he did.
He leant into the closest operator and whispered delicately into his ear, influencing the choice of next step to take. In the next couple of seconds, the emergency protection system signals came on and Mr White received the explosive beginning he had wished for.
Screams of alarm and terror were drowned out by the hissing of the rising steam (3). The second explosion followed roughly three seconds later.
Not even he had time to react. His feet left the ground and his body was thrown back into the wall. His skull cracked against metal. A loud ringing sound echoed in his head. His exposed skin felt as though it was melting from the deadly elements. It sent a passionate sensation throughout his body. It was orgasm worthy.
When he came to his senses, Mr White lifted himself up from the ground. The atmosphere was choking them all as it wiped out the breathable air and replaced it with the toxic fumes and smoke. From his right, he could make out the cries for a fallen employee and the impatient yells for another injured member but the ringing made it hard to know what was said.
His vision was heavily blurred. He could just make out the remains of what was once the Unit 4 building. A battlefield would have described the setting better; skeletal remains of the building smouldering, heavy chunks of debris were still hitting the ground, and something was hissing murder to them all.
Mr White was shoved roughly when the chaos broke out within the crowd. No one completely understood what had happened but the poisonous environment was what prevented them from checking. They looked, to him, like a frantic herd of wounded gazelle escaping from lions. Mr White did not run. He did not even walk. He remained there, keeping his ground, as he gazed out at the ruins.
They were already dead. It would only take them a moment of calm mindedness to realise that. He inhaled sharply and sampled a flavour of the atmosphere. He could taste the bitterness of smoke on his tongue and acid burnt the buds. Death would soon be upon them all and, in mild amusement, Mr White wondered over the type of transport he would be using (4).
The sirens deafened him as he was pressed against the remains of a wall. No one was slowing down. They charged down the staircase and leapt over the fallen. Someone even tried to grab his arm and pull him away whilst yelling out. In rough translation it meant;
"What are you doing? We're going to be cooked alive! Escape! Now!"
Mr White only raised his eyebrows at the stranger and smiled faintly. "Really?" he hummed thoughtfully. "Now wouldn't that taste something awful?" (5)
What else could he possibly do? Realising the pointless struggle, the stranger released him and ran off to save the last of his own skin.
The orange flicker of flames came into sight as fire escaped from the reactor hall. The combustion of chemicals caused further dangers. It was naive of them to believe they could escape this by running, he thought; the poison was already in their bloodstreams. Mr White pulled himself together and wandered on after the remaining crowds.
The outside air did not smell as intriguing. It was bland and tasteless. Yet the more he inhaled, the better it became once the chemicals had mixed in their deadly touch. The air was no longer safe to breath. He licked his lips and shivered.
Mr White soaked his thumb with the last of his saliva and held it out. The winds were assisting the toxins in their mission to contaminate nearby towns and countries. Yes, he thought to himself in the same mild amusement as before, this would go down in history.
Fire-fighters were charging to the scene. Mr White caught the name of Lieutenant Pravik when one of the fire-fighters yelled at him that they would need backup. Training had not prepared them for a disaster on this level and so, Mr White discovered, they were easily influenced by the small suggestions from the unknown uniformed operator.
Mr White walked back to admire the sight from afar.
Sudden combustions weren't his thing. He preferred the slow decay of life. Beauty, he reasoned, required time and attention to make it reach perfection. This would be an exception. The sky had never looked more stunning with the work of Pollution's helping hand.
Mr White smiled gaily.
And so, as suddenly as he had come, the latest horseman walked out of sight.
1 - Purely because of his preference to white clothing.
2 - Roughly a size 9 in UK adult shoe sizes though Mr. White was only a size 7.
3 – Being the one who knew how nuclear plants didn't work, the idea of putting water onto an intensely heated reactor simply bewildered Mr. White.
4 – Death arrived shortly after on a fire-fighters vehicle and wore a mask that looked too big on it.
5 – He had learnt that radiation did not cook from experience and if it did then it would have been a terrible chef.