SPDX-License-Identifier
CC-BY-SA-4.0

Shutdown

Indeed it was. Mori's morning job was to check the control procedures for the reactor, the seeming naivete of which had earlier surprised him. George introduced him to Dave Rottbaum, the computer programmer.

Pleased to meet you, Dave. Aren't you staying, George?

No, I'd just bother you and Dave, and get bored and jumpy. Also, you'll have more confidence in the results if I don't tell you what to look at and what to ignore.

OK, see you at lunch. Now, Dave, what can this simulation program do?

You give the shape and composition of the reactor, and a time sequence of control operations. It integrates out the power and the composition changes.

How about decay power?

You can choose the empirical formula or the energy from the actual fission products present.

OK, let's see it do something.

Dave typed on a computer terminal with a graphics screen. First I enter R0; T300; A3600 — I drop the safety rods, cool the core to room temperature, and let it stabilize for an hour.' The terminal beeped after a second or two. There, it's done.

It did an hour of simulation very fast.

All it's calculating is decay heat, which it does analytically. It can change its simulation speed automatically, from milliseconds to days per step. I'm very proud of that part.

Milliseconds? Can you do an event of prompt criticality?

Yes and no. It's like the TRIGA reactor: this reactor is idiotproof against prompt criticality because the fuel expands a lot with temperature. But you can get very short critical periods if you pull the rods out fast, and the program can simulate that. Not explosive motions or neutron detonation waves, but the simulation is fairly accurate down to a period of about ten milliseconds. Now, let's do something real: a normal startup. T-1; R1,240; G1,2,6; P3E7; A600 — temperature to be calculated; rods completely out at standard speed; graph of power, temperature and inverse period; 30 megawatts thermal power; automatic mode for ten minutes. Now we wait. The graphs appeared on the screen half a minute later. See, period and power lurch up once at the beginning, then the temperature rises proportional to rod position. At this slope change the zinc starts boiling, and then everything stabilizes at full power equilibrium.

And there's no automatic control at all? You just pull the rods all the way out? On the reactors I'm used to, you're constantly moving the regulating rod in and out, because the reactor is unstable.

The fuel expands with temperature, and more fast neutrons escape to the blanket. That reduces the reactivity.

Let's see something. Mori typed on the terminal P2E7 … it's not doing anything.

Enter A200. You have to tell it to compute. The graph came out in a few seconds. See, the temperature jumps up when you cut back steam generation, which reduces the reactivity. Then when the fission rate is down to match the power out, the temperature stabilizes at about the same value as before.

Very neat. Can you display reactivity directly?

It's G7, or V7 if you want to see a number.

I have some test cases that I worked out before coming here. Would you help me set up this fuel loading?

Mori went through several simple cases, assuring himself that the program got the same answers that he had computed by hand. It did. This exercise gave him confidence that the program would also correctly model the reactor in more complex, more realistic tests. Then he did over fifty simulations, varying the power, the composition, the rod positions, the starting temperature, in jumps, cycles and all different combinations. Finally, as lunchtime neared, he said, I want to blow it up.

Dave replied, You vaporized the core several times.

I mean, like boom. Prompt criticality.

Set up a cold core, and pull out the safety rods instantaneously. That will set it off for sure.

What's a credible exit time?

Half a second or so, for one gee acceleration, like if the building turned turtle. But that doesn't give an explosion. The power always goes up on the same time scale as the rods. It has to be milliseconds.

Mori typed, R0; T300; A100; T-1; R1,.001; A1. The computer churned for fifteen seconds or so, then replied, Floating overflow in procedure 'Integral' statement 138. The graph appeared immediately, mostly blank and with a final temperature of minus several million degrees, which made the rest of the results unreadable.

You blew it up, all right, said Dave. That's a numerical instability because the changes are too quick. Try it again with 0.01 seconds exit time.

This time the complete graph came out, and there wasn't even any vaporization of the fuel. Look at that, said Mori. That's no explosion. I'll bet it would have cracked the graphite, but you don't simulate that, do you? But really, you can abuse this reactor a lot more than you can a PWR, and nothing too bad happens. Of course, you can't be sure until you load fuel and pull the rods out. But I have enough confidence that I would be willing to be in the control room when you turn the thing on the first time. That definitely wasn't true when I came in here this morning. I thought your control algorithm was hopelessly naive, but now I have some feeling for why it can work.

I'm glad I was able to help you.

And your project. I guess you guys pass parts one and two of your inspection. Let's find George and go to lunch, and then I can get on with part three.

What's that?

Money. Will you have enough to finish and then operate the plant safely?

I didn't write the accounting: programs; we bought them and I don't know much about them.

Mori looked forward to auditing the books. Few engineers have the skill and the patience to even understand accounting, much less to artfully conceal items of interest to the NRC. Mori had come expecting to shoot down his favorite nemesis, the breeder, and to give his versatile tongue a little exercise. This plant had so many weird features! But so far they had all turned out to be very reasonable, not the disasters they seemed to be on paper. Maybe the books would reveal something that would make the trip worthwhile.

Mori emerged on the deck of the reactor building, and George crossed the bridge from the residential float. His walk and his face showed worry. The radio reports support in the Senate for Tomlin's shutdown order. A lot of telegrams have come in supporting it, and the senators are listening to their constituents.

Mori reassured him, The senators are just posturing, not listening. With a quarter of our electricity coming from nuclear power, it would be suicide to pull the plug.

They've committed suicide before. Look at what they did to Social Security; that's why the Democrats are back in power.

If people have to vote by candlelight, they'll vote Republican again. Don't worry about it.

Where does that leave us? Shutting down this project would kill it. We couldn't pay people to just wait until Tomlin runs out of breath, or votes, and with the people gone, nobody would pick up the project again when, or if, the ban were lifted. It would all go down the drain.

Come on, you won't go down the drain. Tomlin will make political hay for a few days, then the bill will get sent to committee and will vanish in oblivion. The energy subcommittee is pretty responsible in this Congress. Stop looking so gloomy. Let's run, and eat. This afternoon I can get into your books.

You're the political expert. But I have a bad feeling about this Tomlin business. Aw, forget it. Let's run back on the residential area and pick up Meiko Chou and Bob. Also, you forgot about your bath.

Oh yes, the bath, said Mori, running after George. We can't let this project be lost; it has so many unique features.

After lunch, George took Mori back into the reactor building, and pointed out two computer terminals in the main entrance. Mori had seen workers using them, but had not figured out their significance. They're like time-clocks. Everyone has a badge, and you stick it in the hole. You can enter sick leave and vacation by using the keyboard.

I noticed no internal security checkpoints; you could use these badge readers. You certainly need to have your security system working before your fuel comes in.

We intend to use badge readers. But it's such a hassle for the workers to have locked doors during construction.

You had better get them used to it, and get the bugs out of the system, and have some experience so you can demonstrate that it works, before you apply for your fuel and operating licenses.

I see your point, but other parts of the system have had higher priority.

There can be no compromise with security. You hope to have chemically separable weapons-grade fuel. Do you realize what would happen if your security system failed? An acceptable security system, in place and tested, is a precondition for a license to possess fuel.

We understand that. Where would you suggest we put checkpoints?

You're the licensee; you're supposed to have a plan. I should like to see it.

Of course. Would you like to see it now, or after you finish with the accounts?

Mori did not like to strike into empty air. He had caught Chou; Chou had let himself be caught; then he turned out to have a plan after all. Why? And this business of inviting him to dinner with no boat back to the mainland afterward. The Chous were very nice, very pleasant, and he did not mind sleeping on tatami, but they were definitely trying to make some kind of psychological point. OK, let them make their point. They would pass if they deserved to, and would fail otherwise. The facts would speak for themselves, at least when Hiroshi Mori was the judge. I will look at your plan afterwards.

OK, let's go downstairs to the stockroom.

Why? Most people would start by showing me a balance sheet.

Money represents people and materiel. Of course the balance sheet balances, because both sides are ultimately derived from the same data. If you want to check the accounts you have to see where and how the principal transactions take place: claiming hours worked, ordering supplies, receiving them, paying for them, and issuing them. Unfortunately, we haven't any sales yet. I expect that you will want to spot-check some transactions and to make some sums by category — we have a computer program for that. But maybe you like the balance sheet as a guide. I have a copy. It was folded in George's pocket. He smoothed it out and gave it to Mori.

Thanks. It does help me. But — most licensees have to have their arms twisted to show me a transaction from start to finish. Why not you?

I don't know … I guess I try to think of what you need to know to do your job. Here is the stockroom, and this is Cynthia Czychak, the chief stock clerk.

The audit was uneventful. The stockroom functioned smoothly and received and issued materials were promptly and accurately reported to the computer system. The purchasing and accounts payable clerks also had their acts together. $4.2 million of the original $24 million remained unspent, of which $1.4 million was reserved for the startup fuel, 35 kilos of plutonium. George said he would have preferred U-233, so breeding could begin immediately, but it was unavailable at any price, and 93% U-235 was available but would have cost four times as much. 86,000 pengos were outstanding (worth $4.3 million), and unpaid invoices totalled $120,000 — mostly due to a fight over who was going to pay for modifications to the ex-containment rubidium vapor isolation valve, which frequently jammed shut. Less than $1.2 million of equipment remained to be purchased, and the project was supposedly about half a year from completion. There would be a small, but probably adequate, reserve of money to cover delays and last-minute upgrades ordered by the NRC. Losses due to misplacement and pilferage were nonzero but somewhat less than average. Computer analysis of the financial data seemed to be comprehensive and accurate, and both George Chou and the controller, a fortyish black lady named Rose Hamlin, had the project's finances under tight-fisted control.

Wasn't there any screwup in this project? Of course there were screwups, but management usually caught them early and kept them from messing up the entire job. Unlike Gator River. They would never survive a Mori inspection. If I had my way, thought Mori, that flock of turkeys would never have gotten an operating license. Too bad I was at headquarters, and then at Region V. I wish all fission plants were built and administered like this one. If only it weren't a breeder. Why couldn't they just feed it enriched uranium like at other reactors? But what would happen then to the plutonium bred from U-238? You can't just dump it; you have to burn it up, which is exactly what they're doing with the U-233. George may have a point there: the salt breeder does put out a tenth as much surplus fissile material as a once-through reactor does. Also, it's uranium, which can be bomb-proofed with U-238; plutonium can't be made inaccessible that way. Whether it actually will get diluted is another question, though. I just don't know about this reactor, whether I'm being bullheaded or whether they are being quietly irresponsible. Anyway, I have two more days to figure it out.

As George and Mori returned to the Chou family's room, they found Bob and Meiko preparing dinner and listening to the radio. …Iraq threatens a unilateral price increase unless their conditions are met. Now on the national scene, the massive leak at the crippled Gator River nuclear power plant has finally been sealed. Shortly before the accident, a valve in the sump drain line was removed for repairs, and the leak was through the resulting gap in the pipe. A new valve was put in during a difficult six-hour underwater procedure in the flooded basement of the reactor. Plant operators were unaware of the missing valve until this morning due to what they described as a lapse in paperwork.

Idiots!, exclaimed Mori. Failing to blank off the drain has got to be a violation of tech specs. Somebody is going to be drawn and quartered!

The radio continued, In Washington, in a surprising show of strength, Senator Tomlin of Wisconsin has persuaded the Senate to bypass the committee process and begin debate on his nuclear moratorium bill tomorrow. The vote was 69 to 33. The house had a day of bitter infighting as tobacco price supports …

Impossible!, said Mori.

I told you so, replied George. What in hell do we do now?

Those stupid jerks! They're wrecking the country because a flock of birdbrains panic when one reactor has an accident. Why can't they look at what the accident did to people, namely nothing? Except for the utility's stockholders.

George asked, What about us? They're going to wipe this project!

I guess we start packing, said Meiko, sadly. I'm sorry.

Bob asked, What are you guys so upset about? All they voted to do was talk.

George explained, If he can get 69 to 33 to spring his bill from committee … The senators know the bill would die in committee. A vote to debate is a vote for the bill. It will pass.

Oh.

Mori said, without much confidence, Maybe someone will filibuster.

George answered, Cloture takes 61 votes. The anti-nukes must be flooding the Senate with mail. The will of the people will be heard.

The people don't know what they're doing. They're slitting their own throats, said Mori.

Meiko added, I don't think we can get enough electricity from non-nuclear sources. It's fine in the summer, but what happens in Maine this winter? So many people have converted to heat pumps as a conservation measure, and they are so dependent on nuclear power up there. People may freeze.

Tell it to Tomlin, said George.

I suppose the Maine delegation already has, replied Meiko.

Don't be too sure of that, commented Mori. There's a big nest of anti-nukes up there and they may have gotten their representatives buffaloed.

Dinner was subdued. Bob was not all that pleased that his delicious fish, the head end of the halibut in sweet and sour sauce, was not more appreciated. But knowing the reason, he was smart enough not to make any complaints. He did, however, have a question of politics. The teacher told us to read the Gettysburg Address. President Lincoln said we fought the Civil War so government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth. If the people tell Senator Tomlin that they would rather freeze then have nuclear reactors, who are we to call them stupid? We ought to give up the project and not be bratty about it. I'm disappointed, and I know all you grown-ups are disappointed, but that's what you tell me to do when you say 'no' to me and I give you trouble about it. Why don't you do the same?

George was not at all happy with his son's analysis of the situation and was about to make a sharp reply, but Meiko answered first. It's not that simple, Bob. When Lincoln lived the issue was slavery. Everybody knows whether they want to be a slave, and everybody is qualified to say that slavery is wrong. But does everybody know about reactors?

I don't know much …

You know more than most adults. So what will happen when people make decisions about reactors?

They'll act stupid. But don't they know that? I know enough to keep my nose out of places where I could get hurt.

You're better at that than most people, and you have experience. Bob looked down at a long scar on his arm; the cut end of a piece of re-rod can be sharp, and the wound can be painful.

Also, Tomlin and his buddies tell lies, or twist the truth, so people build up confidence in their own judgment when it's wrong. Then… you see what's happening.

Mori added, Your mother's right. If you don't know enough you make mistakes, and it's particularly bad when you believe something that isn't true. It even happens to me. I have to admit that I came here planning to rip you people to shreds, because I loathe breeders — it's far too easy to hijack chemically separable fuel, and while it's hard even with the fuel to make a bomb, it's easy to make an uncontrolled critical assembly and to have a real bad mess ensue. I didn't understand how your reactor really was put together. Now, I think maybe this concept is not so bad, at least better than what we're doing now with solid fuelled breeders. See, if I behaved like Tomlin I would have given you a bad report because of what I thought, not because of what was true.

Bob responded, I think I see. When Dad says this is a good project, of course I agree, but I couldn't say that by myself and neither could most people. It's like a baby that wants a knife, or who doesn't want vegetables. But I don't think the government should treat people like babies. I get mad when you treat me like a baby. Maybe that's how Senator Tomlin feels — we're saying that we know what's best for him, about reactors. And we're right, but that doesn't make him like it, so he fights back. I might do that, in his place.

I think that's exactly how Tomlin feels, said George. And he has the power to win.

Well, if the bigger kids were beating up on me, and I didn't feel like throwing all of them in the ocean, I would go somewhere else. Can't we move the project somewhere where Senator Tomlin isn't? Mexico, or Canada? It wouldn't be much trouble to us.

George and Mori both cringed.

OK, it was a dumb suggestion. But what's wrong with it?

Mori criticized first. You need an export license for nuclear equipment and materials. Tomlin could block it. Moreover, the NRC would never let a breeder like this go to a non-nuclear power. We — the U. S. — don't want it, England couldn't pay for it even if they did want it, Russia is a sick joke, and France already has nine or ten Phenix breeders. You have no politically acceptable destination.

George added, This is a U. S. registered vessel. It may not look much like a boat, but it is, legally. It's unlawful to register it under a foreign flag. Also, how would we move it as far as Mexico or Canada?

With parasails, said Bob, like the racing yachts use.

Wheels began turning visibly in Mori's head, then his jaw dropped open. He got up from the table and started rummaging in his briefcase. Bob, may I borrow a ruler?

Here it is.

Mori measured on a map, part of the construction license application, showing the project's location. A wolflike grin spread on his features. Bingo! George, where are we? I mean, where is the project?

In the middle of Santa Monica Bay.

In which country?

The United States, of course.

That's what you think. If this map is to scale, the nearest point of land is twenty-one kilometers away. We're in international waters!

I don't think so. Also, this isn't the permanent location of the plant.

Look at the map. This is where the plant is today. You may have a loophole to escape from Tomlin. I need to see 10CFR. Now.

The whole family, unable to restrain their curiosity and hope, left the dirty dishes on the table and trooped out into the dusk. They crossed the bridge to the reactor and headed for George's office. There, Mori shuffled pages in a thick book of government regulations. Finally, he pronounced, That's it! 10CFR 50.10 states, 'Every person in the U. S. who operates or constructs a nuclear utilization facility must have a license.' Notice: 'in the U. S.'

George was noncommittal. So outside the U. S. the NRC is powerless?

Evidently so.

Hey, we've been exported without a license.

I don't think you're exported. Export is sending to another country. Let's check section 110… 110.2(m) just says 'export from the U. S.' But — coastwise trade isn't export, is it?

Right, coastwise trade isn't export even if the ships go through international waters, like from here to Hawaii. You have to ship to a foreign location. We're legal. But how do we use the loophole in 50.10? I don't think we can just stay out here until Tomlin freezes in a Wisconsin blizzard.

You're right. Tomorrow I'll call Washington and find out the exact wording in Tomlin's bill. Likely he uses the same language as 10CFR. Also you need to know if the Commission is going to do what Tomlin says with all deliberate speed, or whether they are really going to cooperate with him. If you use your loophole they will certainly close it, but the process could take years — if the Commission wants it to.

Meiko warned, We could keep alive for a while by bending the law, if the NRC would cover for us by stalling, but Tomlin could amend his bill at any time. And suppose things never go back to normal. I'm worried about that.

This bill has me scared, Mori agreed.

If there's one loophole like that, commented George, maybe there's another. We should try to find it.

Bob repeated his point: We aren't wanted in the U. S. Why don't we just leave? Actually, we're already outside. We just refuse to obey the law and nobody could do anything.

George knew differently. The Coast Guard can enforce U. S. law on a U. S. vessel anywhere in the world except in the territorial waters of another country. And we can't go to other countries; either they wouldn't take us, or we wouldn't want to fall into their hands. Also, proceeding to a foreign country is a clear violation of 10CFR 110 and the Coast Guard would stop us.

OK, Dad, suppose we stay right here but stop being a U. S. vessel?

That's not so easy. It's unlawful and the Coast Guard could seize us.

What's unlawful? You said registering under another flag. How about just de-registering in the U. S.?

Look it up, recommended Mori.

So they all looked over George's shoulder as he went through the Marine Law. Documentation … vessels built in the U.S… fees… coastwise trade… change of ownership or build… I wonder what that is. Upon sale… 'Change of build' means changing the burden or rigging of a ship… the registration certificate shall be surrendered to the collector, and the ship may be re-registered. That's it! Since we registered the plant, it's tripled in size. Obviously the registration is invalid! And we don't have to re-register it.

Bob jumped. Great! But what flag will we fly then?

I don't know. I guess, none.'

We have to fly a flag; even pirates have a flag. I know — this station is the farthest west. We can fly the White Tree! Neat!

What white tree?

I'll show you back at our room. Hooray! We got away!

Not quite yet, I'm afraid, said Mori. You put up your white tree flag, and the reactor is now exported.

George thought, then had an insight. Suppose the vessel were foreign but the reactor was still U. S. owned? No, that doesn't work — coastwise trade is forbidden to foreign vessels and the reactor could be presumed to be for export. But you know, that's the status now. We have a license to put the reactor in international waters, on a non-U. S. vessel. Remember, the registration is invalid de facto. The NRC apparently doesn't realize what it's done. But we could claim that tacit acceptance of the status quo gives us what amounts to an export license.

I wouldn't want to be around when the Coast Guard finally shows up. If you claim the NRC accepted your status, they can claim that you tacitly accepted NRC supervision. Which you did: that's me. They could also say it was your duty to keep the registration up to date.

Meiko wondered, Suppose we declare ourselves foreign, then take the reactor illegally. What can they do?

George replied, The Coast Guard has jurisdiction on all U. S. owned ships, under whatever flag. Of course, that can be handled by re-incorporating the Weiss Foundation in another country. But even so, the reactor is contraband and they can seize it. There are so many loopholes, but they just don't line up.

Bob saw another possibility. Mr. Mori, would the NRC give us an export license?

George snorted with bitter amusement. But Mori gave it serious thought. I just don't know. They might want to avoid antagonizing Tomlin. Or, they might figure they were going down the tubes anyway, and grant it either out of spite or because they see the value of the project. I know one commissioner who believes in you. They don't need to hold public hearings on an export license; they grant it, you split, and you're permanently beyond Tomlin's reach. That's the way to do it. But if you ask and the NRC refuses, they might change 10CFR to close the loopholes. It's a risk. I've been around quite a while and I have connections in Washington. I'll ask around and try to gauge the commissioners' attitudes. The story will be that some foreign country, like Canada, wants to buy you. Of course, we know they won't go for that, but if the commission seems to want to help, we tell them the truth. But I want you to know something: if you go sailing around in the Pacific, you will be prime bait for terrorists. I will want to be sure, and the NRC will want to be sure, that you can survive repeated pirate attacks, and I'm telling you, your security that I've seen so far has all the toughness of Muenster cheese. If you want my cooperation on this, you have to do better.

George couldn't keep a straight face at this aspersion on his security, to Mori's surprise, but Bob had the first word: Why do we have to fight, fight, fight? Why all the pirates? Why do we have to sneak around tricking the government and twisting the law? Why can't everyone cooperate and be nice to each other? My martial arts teacher has never been able to explain it, and neither has anyone else. What do you say, Mr. Mori?

I say, it's past your bedtime. George, I think there's hope for your project. But tomorrow we have got to go over your security. And I'll try to get through to Washington and find the language of the Tomlin bill, and see what's cooking.

Fine, said George. Let's get out of here. Tomorrow is going to be busier than today was.

Walking in the moonlight back to the residences, Bob felt happy that the project would not be killed — might not be killed — because he preferred the freedom of the project to the more regimented school atmosphere ashore, he recognized the quality of the education he was giving himself (with lots of help from the teachers), and he enjoyed contributing to family and project, and the status it gave him. Before, he had been just a kid, do what Daddy tells you. Now, his father was still boss of the family, just as he was boss of the project, but filling his father's belly with fish was Bob's responsibility, and it had been a long time since Bob had been ignored or pushed around for his parents' convenience. That status would probably end if the project did.

But tonight he had several times seen the right path, and the grown-ups said he should shut up and go to bed. He should get more credit than that. He asked himself, should he claim his fair share of credit? They had really been unfair, and it was a matter of principle. But he did not want a fight with his father — who was taking the uncertain future fairly hard — and he did not really need the brownie points, having plenty already. Probably it was Mr. Mori's fault; his kids were probably nothings, ignorant and pliable, like most shore kids seemed to be. So Mr. Mori would underestimate Bob. How could this error be rectified? Was it important? Not very, but Bob would feel better if Mr. Mori gave him proper respect. He decided to watch for an opportunity to show off — not crude brat action, but another demonstration — Mr. Mori had already seen his fish and plankton records, but apparently didn't know enough biology to appreciate them — another demonstration that he was a valuable part of the project.

Bob looked back. To the right of the containment dome, Sagittarius presided as Antares sank into the sea. Mr. Mori was right: it was far past time for bed.