Excerpt for A Day in the Life of an Atomic Weapons Research Establishment by David Reynolds, available in its entirety at Smashwords


A Day In the Life Of

An

Atomic Weapons Research Establishment.


David Reynolds


Copyright © David Reynolds 2011

ISBN 978-1-4659-3910-4

Smashwords Edition


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Disclaimer: All Characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental.



Part 1

The Arrival


What you are about to read would be classified Top Secret were it not for the fact I've changed the names, places, events, technology and characters to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

By 8:30am that crisp autumn Monday morning there was a steady stream of foot and vehicle traffic arriving through the main gate of the Tadcaster Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, AWRE (Tadcaster), also known as simply “the site” by the locals and “the establishment” by those who worked there.

Six guards armed with machine pistols, leather gloves and dark sunglasses made sure everyone was in no doubt they were arriving at somewhere serious and secret.

Each arrival wore an ID badge clearly visible at all times lest they be summarily shot under the “Better Safe Than Sorry” policy introduced shortly after 9/11.

Despite the risk of summary execution our hero Bill Shilbert, a fresh out of school 18 year-old employee at the establishment, still insisted on pasting pictures from the FBI's most wanted website over his own mug shot on his ID card. Others had warned him that it could end in tears but Bill just scoffed and reminded them that the rule only stated staff must have their ID badge clearly visible at all times, there was nothing about the picture on it.

Right now Bill was discovering that the brakes on his push bike had worn down; a situation not helped by the fact he was badly hung over; since his 18th Birthday his weekend began on Friday afternoon in the site's recreation society bar and ended late Sunday evening in the Leaking Boat pub situated just outside the east gate of the site, as if the site's six pubs were not enough for the 11,000+ workers; exactly how many people worked there was so secret no one knew.

Bill careered down the slope towards the main gate unable to stop. He weaved around pedestrians more by luck than good manoeuvring and wailed as he shot through the gates before the guards could register what had happened let alone draw their weapons.

The arriving workers carried on as if nothing had happened and the two guards Bill narrowly missed as he swept between them decided that this was probably the best course of action too; it was a Monday morning and no-one wanted to spend the first two days of a week filling out forms. They shrugged to each other and returned to what they'd been trained to do, sternly watching the steady stream of workers arrive.

AWRE(Tadcaster) built on a wartime US airbase was massive as only US airbases could be. Being built on an airbase also meant the main road system looked just like an airport from the air.

20 miles of fencing topped with razor wire surrounded the site. This proved so effective at keeping foxes out that the rabbit population within the site had exploded. The problem became so bad the site had its own ferret division tasked with keeping them under control but failing miserably; there's only so much one man and his ferret can do.

Although constructed in the 1950's the buildings around the main gate were the best on the site. They shielded the casual eye of a person passing the main gate from the buildings behind. The buildings around the main gate housed the administrative arm, the staff canteen and one of the sites' six pubs.

The buildings behind those at the front gate ranged from post war prefabricated huts and hastily constructed office buildings built for the US base towards the end of the war, these served as offices for most of the scientists and managerial staff, to near windowless concrete blocks which is where most of the scientists worked. A row of 6 large bomb resistant aircraft hangers lined the west side of the site; they use to house flying fortresses aircraft but since the end of World War 2 they had become the repository for things best forgotten for reasons of national security; conspiracy theorists would have a field day if they knew it existed.

To the east side of the site was a large building with a dome on top. Several pipes fed in and out of it that leaked steam continually. It looked like a post industrial apocalyptic mosque but was in fact the sites' open-topped nuclear reactor; basically a lot of Uranium at the bottom of 100ft of water in to which scientists would dangle things to see what would happen. Apparently it turned bacon purple and made coffee taste like bananas.

As Bill cycled towards the small brick building he worked in David was leaning back with his feet on his desk and his chair with just the two back legs on the floor.

“You'll fall off that and crack your head one day” said Julie, David's office companion.

“Haven't so far.” came David's typically cocky response.

Julie was 2 grades senior to David but David had secured the desk next to the window because he was in the office first. This left Julie to take the desk by the door giving everyone the impression she was David's secretary, much to his private amusement and her annoyance.

Julie had enquired with admin about switching places but they'd explained that due to budget cuts you had to have a better reason for moving than not liking where you sat. They added that she couldn't move herself because of the unions.

Once Julie had cracked when someone left a message with her for David for the n'th time that week.

“I'm not your bloody secretary!” she'd screamed at David bringing the building’s other residents out of their offices to see what was happening.

“It's not my fault people keep leaving messages for me with you.” he'd replied, affecting a look of shock and hurt at the same time.

“I don't think of you that way you know.” he'd added sympathetically. He'd wisely refrained from putting a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Frustrated at how foolish she'd looked by complaining about something as apparently trivial as passing on a message Julie never brought the subject up again.

The fact David often told people to leave him a message with her was never mentioned by David. Nor was the fact he sometimes arranged to be away from the office when he knew people would be coming and Julie was there. It wasn't a sexist thing it was a grade thing. David was always “sticking it to the man”.


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