Elizabeth blinked and looked at her grubby clothes. Feynman kept staring at her, flashing his cockeyed, suggestive grin. She felt stiff and dirty. How about a long hot shower, with plenty of lather, good shampoo, then a blow dryer? A blow dryer—she hadn’t used one in a year and a half. Even a shower in this desert hellhole seemed beyond all possibilities.
“How long to the detonation?”
“Two hours at the most. They haven’t officially announced it yet. Oppie wants a new report from the meteorologist first. The general looks like a kid who’s just had Christmas canceled on him.”
Elizabeth started to get up, but Feynman didn’t move to give her some privacy. She plucked at the buttons on her blouse. “Um, could you give me a minute to change into some clean clothes? Want to dress up nice for the atomic blast, you know.”
Feynman raised his eyebrows. “If you insist.” He backed to the door. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Once the door closed, Elizabeth struggled into her extra pair of khaki dungarees. She had gotten them from the PX at Los Alamos. Her one pair of blue jeans no longer fit her well. She had gained weight, sitting around too much, having a sedentary life, getting too comfortable.
Too comfortable, too accepting of what was going on. She had stopped fighting and surrendered. After the test, though, she could really begin her debate, to convince people never to use the terrible weapon they had developed. After their years of effort and billions of dollars of expense, Elizabeth knew the President would have to see the Gadget work. She just had to convince everyone not to use it on people, not on Germany, not on Japan. Somehow, she was trying too hard to make herself believe that General Groves and the others would listen to her.
She met Feynman outside the door. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Let’s check in with Oppie.” Feynman led the way down the hall to the living room.
Bright pools of illumination shone from trouble lights hooked onto the wall. Cigar smoke curled up to the ceiling in a blue haze. Elizabeth coughed, feeling her tired eyes stinging already; no one noticed that she and Feynman had arrived.
Serious-looking military officers stood at one end of the wall, fidgeting as if they were trying to be comfortable. Their close-cropped haircuts, identical long-sleeve khaki uniforms, and dark ties made them indistinguishable from one another.
A line of senior Project physicists faced the military men. The scientists also dressed alike—white shirts, dark pants, a few even wore ties, but they lounged in chairs. Oppenheimer and General Groves spoke quietly in the center of the room. Smoke rose from Oppie’s pipe and Groves’s cigar. Oppie kept waving his hands, holding them chest high in a gesture that made him look like a poorly made scarecrow.
The scene looked like a confrontation between two teams in some sort of battle. And in a way, that’s exactly what it was—the academicians against the soldiers. They didn’t yet know just how much at odds they would be. Right now their goals were in harmony: to stop Nazi Germany. But soon, Elizabeth knew, the two camps would split and champion different goals.
Elizabeth could not see Graham Fox among the scientists, but he would be out at his observation station to take readings from the test. Several other solo researchers had been placed at various distances from Ground Zero to measure the blast.
She stood quietly in the hall and tried to catch what the men were discussing. The front door of the ranch house stood open, letting a cool wet breeze float inside. The rain had stopped, and the sky showed patches of black sky and speckles of stars. Only the sound of water dripping from the roof gave any indication of the storm. Elizabeth wished a breeze would enter the room and clear the air of smoke.
Groves raised his voice. “Every day we delay—”
“I know, I know.” Oppenheimer sounded exhausted, ready to crumble. “Every day takes us farther from victory. We’ll do the test today, General. Just give me five more minutes for that wind check downrange. At least make sure the people and towns downwind from the blast are shielded from fallout. We don’t want to make another New York disaster out here in the desert.”
Groves blew cigar smoke into Oppie’s face. “I know when you’re exaggerating, Dr. Oppenheimer. We’ve discussed the worst-case scenario before, so don’t go trying to scare my staff.” Groves glanced back at his men. They stood placid; their faces revealed nothing. Elizabeth could tell that the last remark had been more for Groves’s own men than as a retort to Oppenheimer.
Oppie waved the cigar smoke away from his face and sucked on his pipe. “I just wanted to make sure that we’re both aware of the consequences.”
“Damn right we are. You’ve got your own calculations to prove it.” Groves shifted his weight. As Elizabeth knew, he was a man not used to waiting for what he wanted.
“Oppie?” An enlisted man entered the ranch house, out of breath. The rank insignia on his arms showed him to be a private. His boots were covered with mud and wet sand, but the rest of his uniform was dry. He strode into the room, then stopped as he caught sight of Groves. He snapped to attention.
“Morning, General.”
“Get on with it,” said Groves after returning the salute.
The enlisted man held out a paper to Oppenheimer. “The winds have died down. Meteorology forecasts no weather coming in for at least the next three hours.”
“Thank you.” Oppenheimer beamed. “That takes care of it, General.” He raised his voice and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Looks like it’s a go!”
Groves snatched the paper from Oppenheimer, grinning. He looked at Elizabeth, but didn’t seem to recognize her. “Let’s do it,” he said.
Oppenheimer studied his watch. “An hour and a half. That’ll give us time to run through the check one more time.”
“Right.” Groves whirled and snapped to his men. “You heard him. Ninety minutes.” And he was out the door with a graceful, rolling gait despite his girth and his obvious weariness.
Elizabeth expected some excitement after Oppie had made his announcement. The men all looked to be asleep on their feet, feverish and ready to curl up on their bunks. They had been working nonstop for days on the final preparations.
The support crew filed out of the ranch house and headed into the dark night. They each had their specific task to perform, even if just to observe the test. No one spoke; they must know to save the cheering for later. Somehow it seemed appropriate to set off the world’s first nuclear explosion in the darkest hours before dawn.
Elizabeth and Feynman waited until the last man had left. Feynman rubbed his hands together, then squeezed her shoulder. She wondered how he had been so certain that the test would proceed. “The Army’11 be making a last sweep of the area to make sure no one’s left around.”
“Do you have anything left to do?”
“Me? A theoretician! Theoretical physicists are useless when things get practical.” He thought for a moment. “I had an advisor once who told me that when he caught himself doing anything useful, he knew it was time to change fields.” He grinned. “Come on, join me in the command bunker. I’m sure there’s enough room.”
“Okay.” He put his arm around her as they left the ranch house; she managed to discreetly extricate herself from his touch.
They made their way to a convoy of jeeps just outside the ranch house. They tried to avoid the mud and fresh puddles from the storm. The hard sand surface had absorbed most of the moisture, but in some spots the ground had left pools of water. The air smelled fresh, rinsed clean of the dust that had been whipping around the test site for the past week.
The jeeps sat parked in a long line, their engines running as the support crew climbed in. Sunrise would not come for another hour or so. Long pencil beams of light came from the sets of headlights, making the convoy look like a glowing caterpillar. As she and Feynman approached, a figure stepped from the shadows behind the first jeep. Elizabeth recognized his profile, the thin body, the tense way he held his shoulders.