The kids and the bomb

This could not happen. Remember that as you read; it’s just a story. It didn’t happen.

It was ‘take-your-kid-to-work-day’ so they did. The scientists did. The nuclear scientists took their kids to work. Older-than-9, younger-than-99 kids (actually quite a bit younger but kids don’t change much over time). Silly, curious kids. Somewhat undisciplined, immature kids. Not-thinking-or-planning-beyond-the-end-of-their-noses kids. Self-centered, I-want-what-I-want kids. Their parents took them to work with them. They worked at the nuclear laboratory(?).

I’m not exactly certain what the workplace was, and I don’t know what goes on in there so I can’t really explain precisely what happened. All that nuclear physics stuff doesn’t make much sense to me. I’ve read some articles on Wikipedia about it but I just didn’t get it. Actually I fell asleep. I’m not sure it’s as real as they say. Except for what the kids did on take-your-kids-to-work-day. Anyway, somehow I found out about it and now I’ll do my best to tell you. If you’re interested. Maybe you’ve got better things to do than read a story about kids at their parents’ workplace. Maybe you already know what happens when parents take their kids to work. Maybe you don’t need to know what happened when the nuclear scientists took their kids to work. But if you’re interested, I’ll tell you what I know.

The parents/scientists arrived with their kids at about 8:00 a.m. I’m pretty sure there were seven kids. Seven – the complete, perfect, lucky number. Two of the kids were siblings, the rest unrelated. The moms and dads decided to keep the kids together and take them on a short tour of the facility (laboratory? power plant?). They led the kids from room to room, usually locked rooms, the kind with those keypad locks. After visiting a few rooms one of the kids started watching closely when a parent/scientist keyed the codes to unlock the doors. It was mainly just something to do instead of listening to those boring parents drone on and on about nuclear physics and what the parents/scientists did there. The kids weren’t exceptionally smart but they had good memories, at least the code-watcher did. The tour took about an hour and thirty-nine minutes. It was take-your-kids-to-work-DAY, not take-your-kids-to-work-an-hour-and-thirty-nine-minutes. There was more time to kill.

So the parents/scientists talked among themselves and came up with a plan. (It may have been a bad plan.) They took the kids to a break room and left them. Before they left them they showed them where there was a restroom, where there were some snacks, distributed paper and pencils, and gave them an assignment for each kid to write a report about their experiences at take-your-kids-to-work-day in the nuclear laboratory (power plant? factory?). Then they set them up with some video games to play once their reports were finished. When I say “some” I mean two. Two video games that one of the parents/scientists found in the back of a desk drawer. Donkey Kong and Pong. This was in 2017 I think. They expected 2017 kids to be entertained with Donkey Kong and Pong for like six and a half hours. But they told the kids to stay, do their work, have fun, and stay. Stay in that room. Stay because there were things in the rest of the building that they didn’t need to mess with. So, yeah, the parents/scientists deposited their kids in the break room and left them.

The kids wrote, ate, drank, peed, played and got along well for a long time. A long time. At least 12 minutes. Then, totally wiped out, exhausted, bored, numbed, stressed, anxious, and twitchy, the kids totally COULD NOT continue in those parent/scientist allotted activities.

One kid (obviously one of the more insightful) astutely and confidently proclaimed, “This sucks!”

All the other kids, as if they had not been able to come up with just the precise words to describe their woeful state of affairs, responded, “Yeah!”

Another offered her contribution to the evaluation: “This sucks!”

There was no doubt – those kids who were brought to their parents’ work HAD to find something else to do. Something that they would like, would enjoy, and would feel good about for a minute or two. One of the older leader-type, a girl I think, actually verbalized the thoughts that were now bouncing around in all their brains: “Let’s do something else.”

They all agreed, but most of them felt the need to continue evaluating and passing their verdict on the circumstances which had overtaken them, the burden which had been laid on their backs by their parents/scientists.

“Why did my mom bring me here anyway?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to come.”

“My dad made me.”

“Mine, too.”

“Mine, too.”

“Mine, too.”

“My mom made me.”

“This is the worst place I’ve ever been.”

“There’s nothing to do.”

“I don’t know how my dad stands it here every single day.”

“What does he do here?”

“I don’t know. Something stupid.”

“Mine, too.”

“Mine, too.”

“Mine – ” I’m sorry, but that’s all of that conversation I’m going to convey. It went on for several more minutes – the kids boringly complaining about the boredom they were enduring. I suppose it was their way of attaining justice. You know how it is – if you sufficiently protest about something, its wickedness will be suitably disclosed, and you are then justified in taking action to rectify it or, more likely (because it feels so good), do something else that seems to balance out the offending something. I’m not saying those kids consciously reasoned this out. They had done precious little reasoning all day so they weren’t going to start in that pressure-packed scenario. Anyway, I’ll skip ahead.

The older leader-type girl proposed: “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Now instantly she had their attention. Then their doubt: “How can we go somewhere else? The doors are all locked. You saw how they had to hit those little boxes to unlock them.”

“Yes, I did. And I (emphatic emphasis on I) memorized some of the codes.”

“Whoa! Really?”

“Let’s go.”

So they went. Seven kids brought to work by their parents/scientists moved out into the nuclear laboratory (factory? test site?). I’m sure you’re wondering where were those parents. So am I. I don’t know. They were probably deeply enthralled and enmeshed in all that important nuclear science-y stuff. Just suffice it to say they were not aware – yet – that their kids had broken from the break room on a mission to find something really cool to do.

Led by the female code-memorizer, the kids gently opened the door from the break room into the hallway and looked to see if a parent/scientist was in the vicinity. If the kids thought what they were doing was okay they wouldn’t have been making sure they did not get caught, would they? No, they wouldn’t. Sneaky kids. As quietly as seven kids could be (not very), they turned left and moved down the hallway. The first door they came to was not one the girl knew the code to unlock, so she led them to the next one and stopped. Her little brain engaged and she tapped the keys in order then turned the knob. The door opened. The kids entered. A large table occupied the center of the room and about a dozen chairs surrounded it. The kids discussed.

“Is this where they eat lunch?”

“Maybe.”

“Boring.”

“Let’s go.”

At the next door they came to, they could hear voices inside the room, so they kept going. The hallway ended at a large door. Code-girl booted up her brain and tapped 5 keys then turned the knob. Well, she tried to turn the knob. It didn’t turn so the door didn’t open.

“Way to go, stupid,” said a boy half her size but only a year younger.

The girl maturely responded: “Shut up! I know another code!”

She reactivated her brain (since it had deactivated after entering the previous code), recalled a number sequence and tapped. Turned the knob. The door opened.

Code-girl led the kids through the door. The pupils of their eyes dilated as they took in the sight. Several kids pushed past code-girl; after all, she wasn’t actually in charge. A large monitor hung on the wall opposite the doorway. Large? No – huge! The biggest any of them had ever seen! There were several other normal-size monitors on a counter in front of the big one. And, of course, several computers and keyboards. The kids were overwhelmed.

The oldest boy exclaimed, “This is what I’m talking about!”

A younger boy added his own well-thought-out evaluation: “Yeah!”

Code-girl uttered in amazement, “Why didn’t they tell us about this? Their own game room!”

Their little souls quivered excitedly as the kids looked around the room and imagined what they could do. And a couple of them – even their bodies quivered.

I really can’t explain how the kids did what they did. Most kids can do things that they actually don’t know how to do. They just start doing – kind of experimenting – and something happens. Sometimes they do based on what they’ve done. Those taken-to-work-kids must have done that. All of them had used computers before that day so they just started using those computers. All of them had played video games before that day (not Donkey Kong and Pong) so they began playing the games they pulled up on those computers. But those games were different than any they had played. The graphics were exceptional – very, well even perfectly, realistic. The controls were extraordinary – instantly responsive. There was only one problem: no audio. No matter which button they pushed or trigger they pulled, there was no sound. But that didn’t stop them.

In time, the huge monitor showed a picture of water, perhaps an ocean, with an island in the center. A red circle encompassed the island. Words appeared across the center of the circle: Target Acquired. One of the kids pressed a button labeled LAUNCH and within a few seconds the island was engulfed in an explosion. Then it was gone, leaving only an empty ocean. Almost empty – a lot of debris floated where the island had been.

“Nice!” a boy exclaimed, “Let’s keep playing.”

I don’t know how but soon they had a graphic of a city on the screen. A red circle appeared but it bisected the city. Somehow a girl took a controller and maneuvered the circle until it encompassed the city. Again: Target Acquired. She pressed LAUNCH. All watched the monitor screen and saw the most realistic depiction of a nuclear attack on a city that they could imagine.

“Wow! It’s so real-looking,” declared the oldest boy.

Soon, by some means, they had another city on the screen. One of the boys somehow magnified the scene so they could see more details. The boy discovered how to move the viewer across the landscape, showing various sites in the city. Streets, parks, homes, small buildings, large buildings, and even people and animals moving around.

Code-girl yelped, “That’s my school!”

“What?”

“That’s my school! I’ve seen aerial photographs of my school and that’s exactly what it looks like!”

“Cool!”

“Blow it up!”

Code-girl giggled, “I wish I could!” She shifted the red circle over the school – Target Acquired – and reached toward LAUNCH.

The door from the hallway burst open and five parents/scientists rushed in, their faces warped in pale horror, screaming incoherently. They saw code-girl at the keyboard, extending her finger, and they shrieked frantically.

“No!”

“Don’t!”

“Stop!”

“What are you doing?!”

You know how kids are. When parents give an order, they think thoroughly about the situation, about their own motives and desires, and about the ramifications of their actions, then willingly and gladly accept and comply with parental wishes.

Uh, no. Enmeshed in the thrill of their exploits, generally kids extend their behaviors just a little (or a lot) farther before reluctantly following instructions. So, yes, code-girl extended her actions in progress, extended her finger and pressed LAUNCH.

One of the parents/scientists dropped her head. The others stared at the giant monitor, sweating and shaking. Most of the kids watched the monitor, but two of them turned to other keyboards and computers to see what other games they could play.

Within a few moments, and momentarily, the school on the screen was engulfed by an exploding fireball. The screen went blank.

Surprisingly for the kids, now there was audio. A sharp, booming blast followed by a continual roar. The building they were in jolted and it was all over. Take-your-kids-to-work-day at the nuclear launch control center was all over.

Remember, this is just a story. None of it happened. An island in the ocean was not blown out of the water. A city somewhere was not wiped off the map. A school and its surrounding community were not annihilated. No kids or parents/scientists were harmed in the making of this story. Why, there’s no way it could have happened. I don’t think nuclear facilities would ever have a take-your-kids-to-work-day. Kids would never be left alone in a nuclear launch control center. Control rooms and systems would never be left abandoned for kids to find and enter. And, of course, no one would ever mess around with such…such…powerful stuff. No one would ever play around with such force. No one would ever be so lackadaisical, so half-hearted, so apathetic, so bored with such transcendence.

Just a story…