Upon arriving at Trinity Site I was at first a bit disillusioned. It lies in a particularly dry and desolate part of New Mexico, a state known for dryness and desolation. The test took place there partly because of its nearness to Los Alamos, where the design of the bomb was carried out, and partly because of the very low population density of the surrounding countryside. There is some plant life there, specially adapted species that tolerate the extreme conditions. The soil is dusty, almost too fine to be called sand. One sees tall mountain ranges surrounding a flat basin. At present there is a crude marker at ground zero, and a fragment of the concrete foundation which supported the tower from which the bomb was dropped. There were many people milling about, not quite sure what to do. An ad hoc display of enlarged black and white photographs had been put together to provide visitors with something to look at. A German television crew with a remote link was there. They were asking people what it was like to be an American at this site, which represented such an awful aspect of US military history. For a brief moment I was rather outraged, while overhearing their questions. I was going to ask them to come with me to Poland and visit Auschwitz, and perhaps they wouldn't mind answering a few questions, please? Visitors are escorted in by military police. They regulate one's access to the site, permitting traffic only on a specified route. (The site is located on what is now a secure military installation and open to outsiders who want to visit on only two days each year.) One is advised not to remove soil or stones, but none of it is actually authentic in any case. The original soil was carefully removed many years ago and replaced, so there is no crater. Being a frequent traveler to the Land of Enchantment, a name given to the state of New Mexico by those wishing to promote tourism, the surroundings did not impress me as in any way distinctive, overlooking the fact that the usually omnipresent gift shops and concessions were absent here. It was just very dry and very desolate. In the sixteenth century the area had been given a name by colonists from what was then New Spain, today's Republic of Mexico. They had been voyaging northward from Mexico City and Chihuahua in search of free land suitable for subsistence farming. Unaware of what they were going to encounter along the way many died from disease, malnutrition, and eventually thirst. They called it La Journada del Muerto, "The Road of the Dead," as it became well marked out with makeshift gravesites. After seeing all that I needed to see, just enough to be able to say that I had in fact, been there, I returned along the prescribed route to the local highway. I stopped at a small roadside luncheonette to get out of the sun and rest a bit. Naturally this was one of their two busiest days of the year, but there was no waiting. I consumed a small hamburger plate and plenty of iced tea. My mind was stuck on the phrase: "Call me Shiva, the Destroyer of Worlds." When I glanced at my camera, resting on the table, I thought about how useless it had been on this trip to New Mexico, which is usually a godsend for photographers, amateurs and professionals alike. 

I remembered being asked once by an interviewer what I thought Einstein was most famous for. It's interesting, I think, that people don't usually include his first name: Albert. My response was "E=mc²," his formula which equates energy and mass. I was then asked what the "E," "m," and "c" represent. My response was simple: ""E" means energy, "m" means mass, and "c" represents the speed of light." The interviewer smiled politely, and then asked me: "Yes, but do you know when Einstein came up with this idea?" When I responded: "Yes, in 1905," the interviewer was then satisfied that I was indeed an educated person. My interest in A. Einstein and R. Oppenheimer are not coincidental. While the former was a purely theoretical physicist, (Einstein once said: "My only tools are pencils and chalk…"), and Oppenheimer was known for his ability to organize people so that ideas on paper or chalkboards could be made to work in a testable laboratory setting, the two are forever linked in my way of thinking. Neither was especially fond of publicity. For both their thinking was far ahead of its time, and yet neither was arrogant. And both had consciences, and gave great consideration to the consequences of what their work brought to humanity. I have yet to be interviewed concerning my knowledge of Mr. Oppenheimer. If this work is ever published and I am questioned about him, I will happily provide the interviewer with a reference to my writing, and then suggest that he/she do some of the nasty, dirty work called reading. I don't know why I am asked questions like this anyway; I do not profess any expertise in twentieth century physics or biography. And so my galaxies go on colliding. We have examined here just a few of the brighter stars, the novae. It is haphazard, perhaps, but Albert Einstein would have said it is definitely not random. "God does not shoot dice with the Universe." 

Another group of stars becomes visible to me. It is another vision inside my head. I refer the reader to page 671 of Mr. Rhodes' book which I mentioned above. I am using the first Touchstone edition, published by Simon & Schuster, NY, 1988, © 1986 by Richard Rhodes: (Note: this passage is a bit complicated, so do take your time; and read and re-read it if necessary.) 

"What the world sees is the shock front and it cools into visibility, the first flash, milliseconds long, of a nuclear weapon's double flash of light, the flashes too closely spaced to distinguish with the eye. Further cooling renders the front transparent; the world if it still has eyes to see through the shock wave into the hotter interior of the fireball and "because higher temperatures are now revealed… the total radiation increases toward a second maximum": the second, longer flash. The isothermal sphere at the center of the expanding fireball continues opaque and invisible, but it also continues to give up its energy to the air beyond its boundaries by radiation transport. That is, as the shock wave cools, the air behind it heats. Instead of one simple thing the fireball is thus several things at once…" 

Reading Mr. Rhodes' detailed description one can see how difficult it can be to render into precise language a complex event. Surely the people living close enough to Trinity Site at the time of the test knew little about isothermal spheres and radiation transport. Luckily the scientists close enough to witness the blast had provided themselves with the best protection deemed necessary at the time. For the most part, they suffered little, except for a few. These few suffered either emotionally or spiritually. The sheer enormity of the event (which, we might add, is an insignificant spectacle compared to newer, one might say "improved" designs) had an impact upon them. Some compared it to the opening of a Pandora's Box. Some wanted to dissociate themselves from it. Some wished that it had never come to pass. Some even happened upon the idea of sharing the information with their Soviet counterparts, in order to prevent fear and mistrust from setting in, knowing how those emotions can wreak havoc on the human mind. I suppose no one walked away unaffected. 

Inevitably, for me, and many people not like me, complex thoughts like these, (strange nebulae in my colliding galaxies), leave many questions unanswered. What about those who no longer "had eyes to see?" Were they counting shockwaves? What was the sensation then, already blinded, as one is incorporated, literally, into an isothermal sphere? My first instinct is to think that if it was only a matter of milliseconds, perhaps a sensation of pain never had time to form in their brains. This is pure conjecture on my part. Those who died instantaneously at Nagasaki and Hiroshima cannot speak for themselves. Those who struggled on with "radiation sickness" for hours, days, or weeks, suffered horribly. And those who still live with the consequences today probably have little hope for anything good ever resulting from the work done at a place called Los Alamos. I must close my eyes, sit back, and cease thinking darkly now.