How could these other men sleep so soundly here? There were at least half a dozen bunks filled, and gentle snores coming from most of them. From the nearest bunk, not so gentle; Kalychenko knew that the fireman there was the football player they called "Summer," the best scorer of the Four Seasons.
Kalychenko was still trying to make up his mind whether it was worthwhile to lie down again, when Vissgerdis poked his head in the door. "Kalychenko? Telephone," he said. When Kalychenko mumbled a question about who would be calling him here, Vissgerdis only looked upward and jerked a thumb toward heaven before returning to his card game.
That could mean one of two things, either God himself or the organs — the GehBeh. And what in hell could he want? Sure enough, the voice on the other end belonged to the Personnel and Security chief, Khrenov. "Operator Kalychenko," he said, voice warm and intimate, "how nice that you sleep alone for a change, but if you can bring yourself to report to work a bit early, we need you. The thermal output on Reactor Number Four is dropping fast."
"With pleasure," snarled Kalychenko, looking at the clock. It was not even eleven yet! As he dressed he helped himself to half a cup of the concentrated tea the firemen kept for times they needed to wake up in a hurry. He pulled his clothes on rapidly. How like Khrenov to seek him out himself, instead of letting the shift chief do it! It was not that Khrenov interfered in the technical work of the power station — exactly — he was careful, always, to stay within his own sphere of authority.
But where did that sphere end?
Kalychenko didn't waste time resenting Khrenov's issuing orders, or in wondering how the Personnel man had known where to find him; of course Khrenov knew where to find anyone, all the time. What he did resent was Khrenov's continuing nagging little jokes about Kalychenko's relationship with the woman whom he was pledged to marry. Surely that was none of even the GehBehs' business!
It did not occur to Kalychenko to complain to anyone about Khrenov's actions. Who was there to complain to about the KGB?
Vissgerdis took time out from the game to look in on Kalychenko again. "What's up?" he asked. "There's a story that they're doing something strange with the Number Four Reactor tonight."
Kalychenko paused as he pulled a boot on. "Oh, of course," he said, remembering. "No, it is nothing strange, simply a test of a new energy conservation measure." They were friends, of a sort — Vissgerdis was half Lithuanian, like Kalychenko himself, and so they both stood out as tall and pale among the stubby Slavs, which had made them at least acquaintances. Nevertheless Kalychenko never forgot that he was an accredited power operator, while Vissgerdis was only a fireman. So he said, in rough comradeship, "A technical matter. Nothing important." But, he reflected, the trouble was that when something like that was going on, they would be busy all night. That was a nuisance. Normally Kalychenko actually preferred night duty. After all, the Chernobyl power plant pretty well ran itself. All the operators drowsed off from time to time on the midnight shift; oh, they were careful to see that there was always someone watching the boards and listening for the telephone in case of any messages from the load dispatcher in Kiev, but, really, there was not that much to do at night, when the bosses were all tucked away.
But tonight would be different, he thought glumly.
Reluctantly he left the fire department's comfortable little quarters, waving thanks to Vissgerdis, already back at the card table. The power plant was not quiet — it was never that, with the turbine scream always in everyone's ears wherever they were in the structures — but it was almost deserted. There were hardly more than a hundred people anywhere in the vast expanse at this time of night; construction had stopped for the weekend, and the three thousand workers who swarmed around the plant in the daylight hours were all back in their homes.
When Kalychenko got to the control room for Reactors 3 and 4, it did not look deserted. It was full. The four-to-midnight shift was still there, so were some of those who would take over at twelve, though it was only eleven-thirty by the big clock. And so was Khrenov, gazing thoughtfully at Kalychenko as he came in, and so, for a wonder, was the Chief Plant Engineer, Vitaly Varazin.
The Security chief gave him one of those intimate, understanding looks. "Are you just out of bed, then, Kalychenko?" he asked — it was his way of showing he was in a good humor, but what was he in a good humor about? "Did you also manage, this time, to get a little sleep?"
With someone like, say, Smin, Kalychenko would have managed some sort of retort to the effect that it was none of anyone's business whom he slept with, or when. Not with Khrenov. In a quite civil tone Kalychenko said, "Thank you, yes." He did not prolong the conversation. He relieved the other operator and took his seat before the big board, frowning as he saw that the main pumps were still disconnected. He called to the shift chief, "Shouldn't we turn these on again?"
It was Chief Plant Engineer Varazin who answered. "Not at all, Kalychenko. We've been allowed to take Number Four off line after all, so now we are able to proceed with the planned experiment."
And Khrenov, standing behind Kalychenko, said pleasantly, "Aren't you pleased?"
Kalychenko didn't answer. He didn't have to, because two more men were coming into the main control room. They were strangers to Kalychenko, but obviously not to Khrenov, who turned away at once to greet them.
Kalychenko scowled at the board. The best things about his job were that there was so little, really, to do, and that little could be done in comfort, without people standing around to watch you. This night was all different. Another stranger had just come hurrying in, looking as rumpled and sleepy-eyed as the first two. The shift chief whispered to Kalychenko that they were observers — from the turbine factory, from other power stations — but, whoever they were, they were not welcome to Kalychenko. Nor was Khrenov, who certainly had no business being present at this purely technical matter. As for Chief Plant Engineer Varazin, well, certainly the man had every right to be anywhere in the plant he chose, at any time. Still, Kalychenko had never before seen him in the control room after midnight before. With all these people present there would be no good chance to disappear for half an hour or so for a little rest from his duties.
Both Khrenov and the Chief Engineer looked freshly washed and shaved, and humorously apologetic to their guests for getting them out of bed at this uncultured hour. "Still, now you can see how hard we work here at Chernobyl," Varazin said affably. "In any case, you're just in time. We've already begun to reduce power on Reactor Number Four."
"Excellent," said one of the visitors politely, glancing around. "And the Director and Deputy Director?"
"The Director has left the entire matter in the hands of Chief Plant Engineer Varazin." Khrenov smiled. "As to Smin, I tried to call him, but he is off on some private errand. So when they come in to work on Monday, we will be able to give them both a pleasant surprise."
"Exactly," Varazin agreed, rubbing his hands together. "Now, as designated test leader, I must give a briefing." He stepped toward the board and raised his voice. "May I have your attention, please? As provided by the regulations, it is my duty to brief you all on the experiment we are conducting. But don't stop what you are doing. Continue to reduce the power; we don't want to be here all night!"
Kalychenko listened with half an ear. Most of his attention was on the tricky business of lowering, the temperature of Reactor No. 4, though what the Chief Engineer was saying was certainly interesting. Kalychenko almost forgot to be sleepy as he heard the plan.
The basic intention of this experiment, Varazin announced, was to see if useful power could be generated from the heat usually wasted while a nuclear reactor was down for maintenance. The reactor never stopped being hot, of course; it never would until at last the plant was finally decommissioned, somewhere in the next century, and probably not for some time even then. But it was not the practice to try to use that heat while the reactor was being serviced. Now, perhaps Chernobyl could lead the way to new practices.