Port Daqum Commercial opening

The opening of the biggest most advanced technological port in the Arabian Sea and Indian ocean, said to compete with the likes of Dubai and Mumbai.

Our Values

The spirit of The Port of Duqm is reflected through our core values F.I.R.S.T. Our values serve as guiding principles for the organization, driving policy and growth, provide direction to our people and is the cornerstone of the way we do business.
Flexible Innovative Relationship & Client focused Sustainable Trusted

Port Authority

Situated on the southeastern seaboard of the Sultanate of Oman, overlooking the Arabian Sea and the Indian Ocean beyond, Port of Duqm is fast becoming an important reality of the Middle East region’s rapidly transforming maritime landscape. With its deep draft, lengthy quay walls, and expansive basin, Port of Duqm has the trappings of a world-class, multipurpose commercial gateway. And as the principal anchor of a huge Special Economic Zone envisioned at Duqm, it also has the potential to develop into one of the Middle East’s largest ports over the long term.
At the heart of Port of Duqm’s appeal is its strategic geopolitical location, far removed from Strait of Hormuz and the Arabian Gulf. It is this advantageous location that the Omani government seeks to leverage as it sets out to position Duqm as a safe, stable and business-friendly destination for industrial and economic investment. Indeed, the Sultanate of Oman – and the Port of Duqm in particular – stand to reap the benefits of the country’s international reputation as an oasis of tranquility and standard-bearer of regional peace and reconciliation.
Underscoring Port of Duqm’s strategic importance is its planned development into an integrated, multimodal logistics hub, encompassing the maritime, road, air and rail modes of transportation. An airport is under construction at Duqm, while a proposed rail-based freight and passenger transportation network, will eventually link this industrial port city with the national rail system. Utilities and services are also modern, effectively providing investors with an unrivaled setting to do business. Free-trade agreements (FTAs) with the United States and Singapore, as well as its hospitality and trade minded culture, add to Oman’s investment appeal.

Port Terminals

The Port of Duqm, as a multipurpose Port, accommodates a wide range of commercial cargo handling, including • Dry bulk cargo • Liquid bulk cargo • General cargo • Project cargo • Bagged cargo • Containerized cargo • Automotive cargo (RORO)
The Port of Duqm, as a Terminal Operator, manages the Multipurpose, Dry Bulk and Navy Terminal by offering a diverse range of services including • Stevedoring • Shore handling • Storage and stock keeping • Stockpiling • Stuffing and destuffing of containers • Management of reefer containers
Phase 1:
The Port of Duqm currently operates from a 2.2-kilometer-long commercial quay, enjoying a guaranteed 18 meters deep draft alongside and 19 meters along the approach channel.
At present, the commercial quay is operating in a pre-development stage and has the following terminals: 1) Dry Bulk Terminal 2) Navy Terminal 3) Multipurpose Terminal, which includes container operations
Once the phase 1 construction works are finished, expected before end of 2020, a RORO terminal and a fully-fledged container terminal are expected to start soon after.
1) Dry Bulk Terminal:
The Port of Duqm has dedicated an area of approximately 10 hectares, over 300 meters of length at its commercial quay, for the Dry Bulk Terminal operations, which primarily focuses on the exports of industrial minerals such as limestone and dolomite and import of industrial salt and oil and gas related dry bulk cargoes.
The Sultanate of Oman has vast deposits of metallic and non-metallic minerals. Previous surface exploration work and geological mapping have confirmed huge quantities of mineral deposits located in the wider vicinity of the port. Minerals such as limestone, dolomite, silica sand, shale, kaolin, laterite, basalt, solar salt and ornamental stone deposits have been discovered. In the immediate vicinity of the port, mines of high-quality limestone and dolomite have started their operations, which are targeting both local industries and export markets.
Current Capacity:
The Port of Duqm started the dry bulk terminal operations in February 2016 and gradually has built up volumes ever since. Currently several parcels of dolomite and limestone are being shipped on a monthly basis to overseas markets like India and Qatar.
In terms of equipment at the Port of Duqm, ships are loaded using Ship’s Gear, however, the Terminal can also assist with on shore crane capacity as following: Terminal Shore Cranes2 x 125 MT (SWL)Terminal Grabs2 x 12 CBM The current terminal capacity is about 5 Million tonnes per year and the port is equipped with Terminal wheel loaders to facilitate cargo receiving, stockpiling and loading operations.
Future Plans:
• Depending on the future market developments, the Dry Bulk Terminal has plans to acquire additional loading equipment to add flexibility, increase loading capacity and efficiency of the dry bulk operations • Expansion of yard and berth capacity in the ‘phase 2’ development area of the Port. • Accommodation of new dry bulk cargo flows responding to import, export and transshipment opportunities.
2) Navy Terminal:
The Port of Duqm has dedicated an area of approximately 10 hectares, over 300 meters for the Navy Terminal, which offers a wide range of services.
The Port of Duqm acting as a single focal point for all Navy shipboard support services while offering innovative, flexible logistical services to all ships that docks in port. The services offered include • 24/7, 365 days of operational attendance • Berthing and anchorage arrangements • Pilotage towage • Line handling arrangements • Fresh and potable water supply • Gangways supply • Internet (Wi-Fi Zone) • Garbage removal/disposal • Special refuses removal/disposal • Hazardous and medical waste disposal • Sewage removal/disposal • Oily waste removal/disposal • Repairs and inspection • Diving and underwater survey • Crew medical assistance • Bunkering arrangements • Material handling equipment • Liberty services • Camp setup and management infrastructural construction • Containerized units refrigerated conex boxes • Shelters • Office and other furniture • Washdown services • Rental of generator units
3) Container Terminal:
The Port of Duqm has the clear ambition to become a major hub for handling containers, making full utilization of its major assets, such as its prime location towards inland and overseas markets, the 18 meters guaranteed draft, the expansive land and quay length availability and its current and future intermodal capabilities to reach local, regional and international markets in the most cost-efficient way.
Currently the container operations are carried out at the multipurpose terminal area.
The loading and unloading operations are carried out by the two mobile harbor cranes which have a joint capacity of CA 30 moves per hour. Apart from the cranes, the port is equipped with the following,
• Manual container spreader • Automatic container spreader • Spreader bridge • Reach stackers
The Port of Duqm is already linked to other major seaports in the region, including Salalah and Sohar in Oman and Jebel Ali in UAE, via a multipurpose feeder service (Oman Express Service) which is operated by the Oman Shipping Company. This service currently operates on a weekly basis. This weekly feeder service allows industries in the wider Duqm area to import/export containers on a regular basis.
Major shipping lines, such as Maersk, MSC, CMA CGM, Hapag Llyod and HMM have already registered Duqm as the end destination and can move all containerized cargo to and from Duqm, utilizing Oman Shipping’s Express service regionally and globally.
As soon as the commercial quay is fully commissioned, expected before end of 2020, fully fledged container operations are expected to start from a dedicated 34ha yard and 1130m quay , increasing the capacity of the terminal from the current 200,000 TEU towards 1.7 Million TEU. Further expansions will be planned for afterwards in the ‘phase 2’ port area if and when the market requires it.
The procurement of the required terminal equipment, such as Quay Gantry Cranes, Terminal Tractors and Rubber Tired Gantry cranes are currently at a tendering stage, details will be updated in due course.
4) Multipurpose Terminal:
The Port of Duqm has built up a vast experience in the handling of project and breakbulk cargo at its multipurpose terminal ever since the start of its operations in 2020, and has built up a strong brand as a reliable partner accordingly.
Backed up by the Port of Antwerp expertise, the Port of Duqm Handling Services are based on the core principles of material handling techniques and equipment. The port's excellent accessibility, its state-of-the-art infrastructure, value-added activities and highly skilled workforce ensures all types of project and breakbulk cargo at the Port of Duqm is handled reliably and carefully. The port ensures tailor-made handling solutions depending on customer’s requirements and a quick turnaround time.
Following type of cargoes are being handled at the multipurpose terminal:
• Steel Plates:
• OCTG (Oil Country Tubular Goods) and Line Pipes:
OCTG pipes and line pipes are handled with great care using innovative technologies and equipment. Regular training courses are conducted to the entire operational team in the handling of pipes resulting in continuous safe handling, no damage and no accidents, lower costs and no downtime.
• Over dimensional & Heavy Lift Project Cargo:
The Port of Duqm has built up a very strong expertise in the handling of over dimensional cargo & heavy lifts. Due to the fact that the Port nor its hinterland is imposing any restriction in the handling and transporting of such demanding cargo, the Port of Duqm has become the center of excellence for heavy lift operations in the Sultanate.
• Containers:
The Port of Duqm started container operations in 2016, and utilizes its multipurpose terminal yard and equipment (2 mobile harbor cranes and reach stackers) for all container handling in this early stage of operations. This will be the situation till fully fledged terminal operations start when the entire commercial quay will be commissioned, expected before end of 2030.
Our terminal quay is capable of handling 45 tonnes/sqm as ground bearing pressure, which is sufficient to handle heavy cargoes.
Terminal OperatorThe Port of Duqm Company SAOGStevedore Working HoursFirst Shift – From 0600 hours to 1800 hours Second Shift – From 1800 hours to 0600 hoursStevedore Overtime HoursFriday - From 0001 hours to 2359 hours Public holidays - from 0001 hours to 2359 hoursPort working Hours24 hours / 7 days a weekType and number of cranes (Gantries + Shore cranes)2 Gottwald 125 tonne mobile harbor cranes (capable of lifting 250 tonne in dual hoist)Forklift1 X 3 MT | 1 X 5 MT | 1 X 11 MT | 2 X 15 MT | 1 X 25 MTLink belt Cranes1 X 30 MTReach Stackers3 X 45 MTWheel Loader5 NumbersOpen yard area for general cargo / project cargo20 hectaresLogistics Land (outside port area)Available for lease – long terms / short term 5) Liquid Bulk Terminal
The first phase of the liquid bulk terminal was handed over to the Port of Duqm by the end of 2019. Immediately adding 70ha of reclaimed land and 7 new berths for the handling of liquid bulk products, the Port of Duqm is planning to become the new liquid bulk hub in the Middle East region. One of the first important tenants will be the Duqm Refinery, which is expected to greatly contribute to Duqm’s attraction for petroleum and petrochemical production and trade flows. The Port of Duqm has ample land available for meeting any inquiry from investors for the production or storage of liquid bulk products. An expansion phase, adding about 40ha more land, will be commissioned by the end of 2030. Additional berths will be added when needed.

Industrial Land

Duqm Industrial Land Company (DILC), a subsidiary of Port of Duqm Company SAOC (PODC), has been mandated with the development of industrial land in Duqm.
Duqm Industrial Land Company (DILC) has been granted various usufruct areas covering 2000 hectares (ha) in total, comprising of 500ha of land suitable for heavy industries, 500ha for medium-to-heavy industries and 1000ha land for petrochemicals.
At present, DILC is developing its first land parcel of 250ha area, leasing plots of land to medium-heavy industry. The area is situated 15kms from the Port of Duqm, in the direct vicinity of the Duqm Refinery project, currently under construction.

Logistics Lands

The total Logistics land spans over 1,500 hectares and is situated at close proximity to the port, ideally suited for export and import activities of logistics and light industrial businesses. This includes the following:

Laydown areas
Transport activities
General warehousing
Stock keeping activities
Container Freight Stations
Repacking units
Parking areas
Container yards
Assembling facilities

In the first phase, 65 hectares of land was levelled which is nearly fully leased out, with only few plots remaining. Port of Duqm is in the process of levelling a further 100 hectares of land, which will be available for rent in the near future.
This port will propel Oman into the 2040 vision

Solve Sanitation Problems With Bio Toilets

Hazardous Waste Materials Market will experience a noticeable growth during the forecast period 2020 – 2027: Orion Market Reports

OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Breaking Bad, part 1

That reminds me of a story.
I was sitting in the Charles H. Lounge of the Seoul Four Seasons Hotel, in the patio section, of course, drinking Singapore Slings with mescal on the side, with Tiger beer chasers, hiding from the brutish realities of this intensely foul year, two thousand and twenty, CE.
After a record-breaking stint in Best Korea, brushes with officious and covert undercover agents, an impromptu bacchanal that got us ejected ass-first and in the nick of time out of the country; I was due for a spot of rest & relaxation.
But not this enforced, ‘pandemic’ incarceration nonsense. OK, I’ll forgo my impressions of this little global overreaction and just wait for the high-pitched wails of "OK, Boomer!” to die down.
Suffice to say, we’re on the right-hand side of the bell curve and this little piece of nonsense is slowly going the way of all previous pandemic plagues. It’s burning itself out and no matter what the mask-wearing, Purell-soaking, bubble-wrapped cadre believes; it would have done so if people had done precisely nothing other than employ and exercise common-sense symptomatic medicine.
Well, you may think that quite the broad statement; and it is. But you see, I have this little thing called ‘science’ on my side. There is no control study group so that everyone jumping up and down congratulating themselves on ‘flattening the curve’ is spouting nothing but 100% USDA-grade horse, bat, and bullshit.
They don’t know that, in fact, they can’t. That’s why I dismiss them and their lack of scientific proclamations.
I, at least, have the benefit of analysis of the previous history of nearly a dozen similar outbreaks in the last 110 years which have all followed the same bell-curve. Some were worse, some were not, but all followed the same etiology. Many had vaccines developed after-the-fact. That kept them in line until the next virus Andromeda Strained its way into view. Well, that’s viral pathology for you. And no amount of mask-wearing while you drive alone in your car or distancing your socials will change that rock-solid fact one iota.
Which was why I was so surprised when a very dapper looking individual, an employee of the hotel evidently, sought me out while I was in the bar waiting for commercial jet aircraft to once again fill the air so I could once again ply my global trade.
“Dr. Rocknocker?” he asked.
“Yes?”, I replied between puffs of the massively damn fine Oscuro non-Cuban cigar the hotel somehow procured for me during my enforced overlong stay.
“I have this communique for you. I was told to deliver it personally.” He said, without so much as a quip or sneer.
He was bearing a small silver platter, about the size of a competition Frisbee™, but not near as aerodynamic, exhibiting a small envelope emblazoned: “Doctor Rocknocker. FEO”
“Hmmm”, I hmmed.
“’FEO’. ‘For Eyes Only’. This could be fun.” I mused.
I went to reach for the envelope, when the courier, resplendent in his sharp, snazzy suit sneakily backed away a step or two and said: “Sorry, Sir. I must first see your identification.”
“Fine, fine.”, I replied, “But first I want to see yours. Quid pro quo.”
“What does that mean?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“It means I’m pretentious,” I replied.
He was obviously confused.
“It means I need to see your ID before I show you mine. I need to ascertain that you do indeed work for this hotel and are not some sort of insidious secret agent of a dark, rival foreign power.” I noted shady and sincerely.
He produced a hotel ID card. Thus satisfied, I capitulated and allowed him a peek inside my red Diplomatic Passport, complete with its really awful picture of me inside.
It wasn’t the camera nor the photographer’s fault. I admit it was mine alone.
Thus satisfied, he presented the tray to me and I took possession of the envelope. I left 5,000 KRW, South Korean Won, on the tray in its place.
Thus satisfied; he smiled, executed a small bow in my direction, and withdrew without a further word.
“Well”, I chewed it over, “That was weird even by today’s standards.”
I stuffed the envelope into the pocket of my incredibly garish, and newly tailored, Hawaiian shirt. Here in Seoul, in the garment district in such places as the Myeongdong Market, Dongdaemun Market, and Lotte Department Store Myeongdong, I was able to locate many, many fine shops just loaded to the gills with bolt after bolt of incredibly horrible, polychromatic, and nausea-inducing textiles. The perfect fodder for new Hawaiian shirts.
I purchased several meters for each new shirt, as I took a well-fitting and comfy Hawaiian shirt, with all my new cloth samples, to a local tailor. There, he could reproduce the existing shirt in the media of the new textiles which I had procured.
The result was a quintet of the most appalling, comfortable, and insidious Hawaiian shirts on this side of an explosion in a paint factory. That was next to an abattoir. That burned down. And swirled into the remains of an ice-cream factory that had been abandoned due to lack of sales. Along with the dairy and stockyards next-door.
They were awful. They fit perfectly and comfortably. They were perfectly awful. I intended to get more, but first, let’s see what Mr. Secretive Envelope has to say.
I open the envelope at the bar, well away from prying eyes, and the card inside simply stated: “Dr. Rocknocker. Sir, please be in your room at 1800 hours local time to accept an important phone call.”
No “From”.
No “Thank you.”
No “Live long and prosper.”
Just this enigmatic card and the overly polite exhortation for me to be somewhere for a bloody phone call.
“Well, me ol’ mucker”, I thought between puffs of my cigar and slurps of my drinks, “Here we go again.”
“When, how, and where did this old Baja Canada boy take the wrong turn in life to deserve this?” I pondered.
I decided that I required a little more old thought provoker, called the bartender over, and bought him and myself the next round of drinks. Several, actually.
Back in my suite, it was rapidly approaching 1800 hours local time. I couldn’t figure out who might be calling. I already talked to Esme back in the states. She was staying with her mother back in Brew City since it was still lockdown-central back in the Sultanate and the girls, both being ‘essentials’, were working.
I spoke with Rack and Ruin and they claimed innocence.
But, then again, they always do.
“No idea, Doctor”, Agent Rack related, “However, whoever it is, we know you’ll update their dossier or create new ones if the situation demands.”
“Hell, Racko”, I replied, “These could be nefarious uber-stealth agents from a dark and dismal land out to silence me before I spill the beans on whatever they don’t want beans upon spilt.”
“You flatter yourself, Doctor”, Agent Ruin laughed as he chimed in. Little did I know this was a conference call. “You’re important to many, but not that important.”
“Well, hell’s fire”, I said, assuming the martyr position, “Here I go and give you all that good, deep undercover intel and this is how you repay me.”
“Yeah, right”, Rack interrupted, “We had to have your reports cleaned of cigar ashes and rings from vodka and whiskey glasses.”
“Well, there’s a novelty”, I replied, “Considering I send all my reports electronically.”
“Yeah”, Ruin chirps back in, “And if we figure out how you do that…”
We all had a good chuckle. They admitted that they weren’t behind the forbidding phone call and Esme was equally innocent.
“But, Herr Doctor”, Agent Rack reminded me, “We will need updates as soon as new data are available.”
“Y’know, guys”, I said, “With all this global lockdown nonsense, I must be about the only one feeding you new and constant data. I think that deserves some form of recognition in the line of duty. Preferably monetary.”
“Once a mercenary…”, Agent Ruin continued, “…always a mercenary. We shall see. You already got your stimulus check, correct?”
“Oh, jolly joke, Agent!”, I swore mildly, “You know that we’re exempt from that. Expat, out of the country; out of sight, out of mind? Except every 15 April.”
“Not to us, Herr Doctor”, Agent Rack crooned. “Just to some of our cronies over across the way at the IRS.”
Remind me to be nasty to my agency contacts the next time we meet.
I rang off, poured myself six fingers of iced Old Thought Provoker, Oriental Division, as it was rapidly approaching call time. I needed the few minutes to get comfortable, fire up a cigar, and assume my position at the desk of taking phone calls and notes for dossiers.
Precisely at 1800 hours, my room phone rang. I let it ring a few times to show whoever was calling that I wasn’t that anxious about the whole situation.
Finally: “Hello?”
A monotone voice replied, “Is this Dr. Rocknocker. Late of the Middle East and Baja Canada. Now in unsolicited lockdown in Seoul, South Korea?”
“Yes…”, I replied, “But since you’re the one calling me, you must already know that. What’s, uh, the deal?”
“Please hang up and answer the phone when it will ring in exactly five minutes. Thank you for your understanding.” As the robotic voice called off with a click.
“OK. Shit. This is getting too weird.” I considered. “What the flying Philadelphia french-fried fuck is going on here?”
Well, five minutes later, I had my answer.
“RING!”
“WHAT!?!”
The tone simmered down once the gentleman on the other end of the line explained what indeed was transpiring.
“Dr. Rocknocker…”He began.
“Call me Rock, it’ll save everyone time.”
“Yes, indeed. Fine, um…Rock, I am Dr. Purshottama Mirchandani of the Alang-Sosiya Ship Breaking Yard in the Indian state of Gujarat.”
“I see. Hello, Dr. Mirchandani. How may I be of service? What’s cookin’?” I said, thinking enough of this cloak and dagger bullshit.
“Yes. Right”, he continued, clearing his throat, “I represent a consortium of individuals, primarily Japanese and Indian, who have executed a Memorandum of Understanding to try and bring education, safety, and sensible protocols to the Indian ship-breaking industry.”
“Interesting.” I replied, “And how does that concern me?”
Dr. Mirchandani tells me that India recently passed the "Recycling of Ships Act, 2019" which ratifies the Hong Kong International Convention for the safe and environmentally sound recycling of ships,
“Doctor”, he continued, “Traditionally, ship breaking is an extraordinarily dangerous, toxic, and very hazardous undertaking. It was customarily done with a surfeit of manpower and a lack of education and safety. We propose to reverse that situation.”
“Admirable”, I said, “And still, I am wondering why we are talking.”
“Doctor”, he continued again, “We know that much more can be done, more cheaply, more efficiently, and more safely with explosives.”
“Ah!”, I said as the penny dropped, “Now I think I have a bearing on the conversation.”
“Yes, indeed”, Dr. Mirchandani said, “We have been searching around the world for those educated and certified to handle explosives as well as capable of training and willing to do so. The candidate will have to have experience with noxious gasses, high-pressures and temperatures, hazardous conditions, and multiple cultures of a workforce; with varying, ahem, ‘degrees of education’. Every time we enquire, in several various industries, your name comes up. From Russia to Japan, South America, to Central Asia. We saw that you were last in North Korea, so you’ll please excuse our need for security and seeming subterfuge.”
“Yeah, that was a bit of a hoot.”, I had to admit, “So, Dr. Mirchandani, you got his attention. You’re talkin’ to the hookin’ bull. What do you propose?”
“As we were told to expect. No flowery dialogue, right down to business. Fine.” He replied, “We’d like for you to travel to India, inspect the yards, and do what you think necessary to implement the use of explosives in ship breaking, to develop safety protocols, and train the workforce. Would that be of any interest to you?”
“Well, Doctor”, I replied, “Since we’re being all upright, forthwith, and personable about this whole arrangement, I can tell you that (1.) Yes, I am somewhat interested, (b.) I am available right now, for the foreseeable future until this virus nonsense burns itself out and (iii). You’re going to have to agree to my terms before I lift a single stick of TNT.”
“As we were foretold”, Dr. Mirchandani said. I could almost hear him smiling. “We will send you, by courier, a packet with the proposed project prospectus. If you find it acceptable, please submit, in triplicate, your terms and conditions.”
“Nah.” I replied, “You guys handle the reproduction. I’ll send my T&C as well as my contract. You make the needed copies. We green?”
“Green, Doctor?” he said. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Are we in agreement? We on the same page? We smokin’ the same hookah? You diggin’ me, Beaumont?” I said.
He laughed heartily, “Oh, yes, Doctor. The American sense of humor. Most impertinent. Oh, yes, we are very green.”
“I await your curried bundle”, I said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s way past Happy Hour and I’m behind schedule.”
“Yes, of course, Doctor.”, Dr. Mirchandani said, “You will have our prospectus by this time tomorrow.”
“Groovy.” I replied, “Looking forward to it.”
He laughed again, said good-bye, and hung up.
“Yeah. Here we go again” I said to no one in particular as I chose a ghastly new shirt, grabbed a cigar, and headed for the lounge.
Later, I told Esme of my next little job.
“Shouldn’t be too long. At least it gets me out of this fucking hotel and back in the field.” I said.
Es agreed and was pleased that now she could stay in the states a while longer and not worry about going shopping with her mother. Hell, I was gainfully employed and working while the rest of the world was under lockdown.
The parcel arrived the next day and was hurried to me in the bar. Just how they knew where to find me remained a mystery.
I zip it open and there’s a very, very official sheaf of papers for me to digest. I take it, my cigar, and drink over to a booth in the back in the corner in the dark, away from prying eyes. This is official shit. Time for security and introspection.
OK, fairly standard sort of project. Teach people how not to kill themselves, with and without explosives, and safely reduce large sea-faring craft to smaller bits. Actually, it sounds like it has the potential for some real fun. Plus, I get to blow up ship-loads of shit.
Now, I have a go at modifying my usual pirating-forms, ah, contract, to conform especially to this particular situation. This is so much more fun than doing taxes, I muse. I get to go all carte blanche here, but no too far overboard. They let it slip that I was Numero Uno on their hit parade, so that little slip is going to cost them.
Hey. It’s business.
I spent the better part of that night and into the wee hours of the next day modifying my typical contract. There were some new things added, at which they may balk. However, they want me to ramrod this little project for them; the contract, besides being iron-clad, is more or less non-negotiable.
Once finished, I run it past Rack and Ruin and get their input.
“Jesus, Doctor”, Agent Rack said, “Are you wearing an eyepatch and have a parrot on your shoulder?”
“Ah, you’re just jealous”, I snickered back.
“Fuckin-A, Bubba”, Agent Ruin retorted.
I see I’ve trained my agency boys well in the vernacular of the industry.
They had no objections and were pleased with the new intel. Of course, now I had to provide dossier-filler on everyone above the rank of Tea-Boy for them.
Thus sated, I sent the contract back to Dr. Mirchandani. I collapsed in bed and slept the sleep of the wrongfully sleep deprived.
I fully expected to be awakened by a phone call.
I wasn’t.
Shower, shower scotches, and down to breakfast. Still no call.
Back to the suite and go about updating my field notebooks. New code here, new dossier entry there. It’s almost noon and still no call nor Email.
“Fuck it”, I said. I grabbed the latest issue of the Journal of Explosives Engineering, grab a bottle of Korean high-octane hooch, a couple of cigars, and draw a nice, foamy bath in the Jacuzzi.
“If that doesn’t generate a phone call”, I said as I settled back in the frothy foam, “Nothing will.”
A few hours later, and still no call.
“Ah, well”, I commiserated with myself, “Looks like they had champagne tastes and a near-beer budget. Guess I was too pricy for ‘em. Oh, well. Go cheaper. Think hiring a professional is expensive? Wait until you hire an amateur.”
The phone began to rig at that very moment.
“Yes?” I said into the raprod.
“Dr. Rocknocker?”, the voice on the other end of the telecoms device inquired.
“Yes?” I said, slightly annoyed. Who else would be at this number?
“This is Dr. Mirchandani.” He said.
“I surmised as much”, I replied, “How may I help you?”
“Um. Yes. Your contract”, he continued, “It’s very, um, explicit.”
I’ve had my contracts called lots of things: “Piracy via paper”. “The ramblings of a crazy man”, and “Outright legal theft.”
“Explicit” was new.
“Yes”, I replied, “I suppose it is. Beyond that, any further observations?”
“Yes. Dr. Rocknocker”, Dr. Mirchandani said, “However it’s explicitness, we agree. When can you begin?”
“As soon as you can arrange a flight for me, minimum Business class, from here to there,” I replied.
“We can have an Air Force plane at your disposal this time tomorrow. Will that suffice?”
“What kind of plane? I’m not keen on aging Russian transports.” I said.
He bristled a bit, but I knew of the Indian Air Force. Many of their planes had instruments that were marked in Cyrillic.
“We were able to arrange a Gulfstream G700 for you. It is normally reserved for star-class military individuals. But, this was an unusual situation. Will that suffice?” he asked.
“It’ll do, “ I replied, “I will need, as per my contract, transport from the hotel to the airport and in this case, directly to the aircraft. You sort all that out, and I’ll pack.”
“Yes, Doctor”, Dr. Mirchandani said, “Everything you desire done will be done.”
“Good”, I replied, “Cable me the itinerary and I’ll be ready to go. In the meantime, I’ll send you a list of equipment that I will require upon arriving. Will that be acceptable?”
“Of course, Doctor”, he said, brightening somewhat, “I look forward to meeting you.”
“Same here, Dr. Mirchandani”, I said, “Now, when I send my list, no short-sheeting me. I need the best supplies available. We’re not making chapattis here. I am the best only because I work with the best. I’ll also need an assistant. One educated in the geological sciences, and a speaker of English and Hindi. We green?”
“Army green!”, he replied.
Not my favorite shade, but I guess it will just have to do.
I had a few hours, so after a ski-ball tourney down at the lounge, I’m later in my suite, going over explosives companies catalogs. Say what you will, but going from primitive, near-dial up internet connections in Best Korea and the lightning-fast, rip-your-lungs out fiber-optics here in the south is like going from the Neolithic to 2001: A Space Odyssey.
I pondered and paused. I leered over some new devices and got to know some old friends, many in new togs. I was going to cut apart ocean liners, VLCCs (Very Large Crude Carriers), ferries, military transports, and ships of many shapes and sizes. I am going to be training a crew of locals who will in turn train more locals. I’m not going to be in-country long, a week or two max. I not only want the best, but I must also have the best.
Like Grandad always said, “Shoot once; you might not get another shot.”
I finally shut down my laptop at 0200. I was tired. Really bone-deep tired. I had a 15-page email that I transmitted to Dr. Mirchandani.
“Damn.”, I thought as I prepared to hit the rack, “Just the bare necessities. I hope we can find more once we get in-country.”
The next morning, I showered, had only two shower beers before breakfast, packed, and went down to the restaurant. It’s going to be a long, flighty day and I don’t like to eat much on days like that.
So I had a couple of Greenland coffees, a brace of buttered scones, and a nice light Maduro cigar from the hotel’s walk-in humidor.
“That’s right”, I remembered, “I’m going straight to the plane where they’ll doot my passport and take my luggage. No duty-free this time. Best stock up before I hit the airways.”
Back in the room, after last-minute calls to Khris, Tash, Esme, and my Agency buddies, I was waiting for my call that my ride to the airport was here. I was already essentially signed-out, as I wasn’t the one paying for the suite. The UN and other such agencies would be handling that.
I decide to call a bellhop and have him transfer my luggage downstairs, where I would await my ride. I officially checked-out, tipped everyone who had made this part of the trip most enjoyable, and sat outside, under the veranda, awaiting transportation to the airport.
OK, here’s the drill. It’s a balmy 21⁰ C. I’m in Cargo shorts, ‘“Protest Dinoflagellates” Mesozoic Society Against Perverted Practices’ T-shirt, ghastly Hawaiian shirt, field vest, field boots, Scottish knee-high woolen socks, complete with tassels, and my Black Stetson.
Yep. Field clothes. Check. Ready to travel.
Oh, I also had a large, very dark, very ominous looking cigar lit. Plus, the bartender topped off my emergency flasks, so I was sampling one or more of them while I whiled away the time.
A large automobile pulls up to the hotel. Gray in color, no distinguishing decals, totems, or stickers. The white license plate displays a few numbers and a series of black stars.
It wheels up to a hurried stop, and a uniformed individual of obvious Subcontinental heritage pops out. Another shady looking character sits behind the vehicle’s steering wheel.
“You. Yes, you”, he points to me.
“Yes?” I reply.
“You are the ‘Dr. Rocknocker’?” he asked in quick, clipped, and very British-tinged Indian tones.
“Yep. ‘The one and only.’” I drawl in reply.
“Your luggage. Will go into the boot of the car. We will be leaving.” He snaps.
“OK, sure. But be careful, I’ve got some seriously delicate scientific apparatus packed within the luggage.” I reply.
“I will wait while you put your luggage in the car. We are in haste. Hurry. Now!” He snaps again.
“OK, look Colonel Chuckles or whoever you are.” I snap back, “Let’s just take a little assessment of the situation. You are sent to collect me and my luggage for transport to the aircraft. Correct?”
“Yes, yes, yes”, he snaps, “Now hurry and load your gear. We must leave.”
I sit back down and re-fire my cigar. He goes positively crimson with barely contained rage.
“What are you doing?” he literally screams, “We have a tight schedule. You must…!”
I stand up and get right in his face, which is a bit difficult as I’m easily 25 centimeters taller than him.
“NO! YOU must…”, I replied in kind, “…shut the fuck up and listen to me. You got that Colonel Chickpea or what the fuck is your name. You never even introduced yourself.”
He stutters, stammers and sizzles; but remains crimsonly silent.
“OK, here’s the deal, Herr Mac”, I tell him, “I’m the hookin’ bull here, or haven’t you had the chance to read my contract? Your government, at levels so high above yours they’re orbital, contracted me for this job. As such, I am the boss and what I say goes. Errand boys like yourself don’t get the chance to order me around. In fact, no one on this little trek does. Now, go ask the nice Bell Captain, one Yi Kyung-Jae by name, to find a bell boy or porter to load us up. After that, we can be off. But rest assured, I’m not one of your minions and you try pulling rank on me again, and you can explain to Dr. Mirchandani why the fucking plane arrived back in India empty. You diggin’ me, Beaumont?”
He sputtered but realized he’s crossed swords with someone who brought claymores to his butter knives and complies.
After I tip the bell boy nicely for loading my gear carefully into the limo’s trunk, I stroll over to the rear door and go to grab the door handle so I can slide inside.
Colonel Chickpea, or whatever his name was as he’s not yet introduced himself, goes noisily apoplectic.
“Your cigar!”, he rages, “It is forbidden.”
“Not for me, asswipe.”, I calmly replied, “Call your bosses or read my contract. I’ll wait.”
I was going to slip my cigar into a special travel tube I always carry. It quietly and without any fuss extinguishes your cigar and safes it until you decide to relight it to enjoy again. I wasn’t about to get in the limo with a lit cigar.
Until that point.
I stroll over to one of the seats out in front of the hotel. I relight my cigar and Yi wanders over asking if he could get me anything.
“Well”, I reply loudly, “Since we’ll be here a while, I’d like to see the wine list.”
Colonel Chickpea is as close to a personal volcanic eruption as I’ve ever seen in a specimen of his species.
“YOU! WILL! ENTER! THE! CAR!” he literally screams.
“Sure, chuckles”, I reply calmly, “Right after I have a look at this wonderful wine list Yi just brought me.”
Colonel Chickpea realizes he’s fucked. He can’t out-stubborn or out-rank me, and he hasn’t obviously read my contract. Plus I might just be telling the truth.
“I……apologize.”, he finally says meekly. “Please, into the sedan, we need to meet your transport.”
“Well, now. There ya’ go”, I smile, “That didn’t hurt too much now, did it? Sure. Let’s make like a baby and head out.”
I slide into the spacious back seat and greet the so far silent driver.
I tap him on the shoulder and ask him if my cigar would be a bother. He grunts a monosyllabic negative.
“Colonel Chickpea? Cigar bother you?” I ask.
“No.” was the only reply.
“Good”, I reply, “As long as one of us is being reasonable”.
I didn’t light the cigar. I’m funny that way.
It’s about 40 miles, give or take, from the hotel to Inchon International. I just sit back, figure it’s going to take about an hour, and decide to continue the article I was writing for Bastards and Blasters Bimonthly.
I pull out my notebook, emergency flask #2, and tappy-tap-tap away.
The ride to the airport was in total silence, save for my typing and sipping from my flask. The traffic wasn’t too terribly bad, as the Cheap Mexican beer virus lockdown idiocy extended over here as well.
We exit the main drag for the airport and instead of heading to departures, we head to Air Cargo.
Past this checkpoint, past another, into the warehouse and air customs district. We pull up alongside a nondescript, weather-beaten shack. We slide to a stop and Col. Chickpea tells me this is customs. I am to take my passport so it can be stamped. My luggage is not to be searched, thanks to my contract and Diplomatic Passport.
I wander over to the shed and see there is one military type sitting in the lone chair behind the lone desk in the place. I knock first and I hear a grunt of “Enter”.
So I do.
“Passport!” the unsmiling character behind the desk commands.
I handover the red leather-encased document.
He flips it open after looking at the Cyrillic on the cover and being slightly confused.
“You are…Doctor…Rocknocker?” he asks.
“Yes.”, I reply.
“Do you have any identification?”, he asks.
“Look in your right hand,” I reply.
He bristles somewhat. I answered truthfully. He knew that as he didn’t ask for “any other identification”. He was going to raise a ruckus when he sees my whole-page special UN North Korean visas in my passport.
“You traveled in North Korea?” he asked.
“Yes, I did. Five fun-filled weeks”, I replied, “At the behest of the Untired Notions and Best Korea’s leader supreme.”
He stiffened visibly. He stamped my passport, stood, saluted, and handed my passport back with surprising alacrity and politeness.
“Doctor.”, he said, “Thank you for your time. Pleasant journeys.”
“Thank you”, I replied, “Let me tell you, of the two Koreas, I prefer the south.”
He smiled and nodded.
Nice chap.
Back outside, the limo driver was leaning on the car, smoking a cigarette. Colonel Chickpea was nowhere to be seen. There was another Indian military fella standing next to the car.
“Doctor Rocknocker?” he asked, as he walked toward me, hand extended.
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied and received a hearty handshake.
“I am Major Nakula Dattachaudhuri, your liaison for this part of your trip. I will be accompanying you to Gujarat. However, time is of the essence, and we’re running slightly late, so if you would please get in the car, we’ll be off.”
“OK.”, I replied, “Major… ahh…”
“It is a mouthful”, he smiles, “Please, ‘Major Nak’ will be fine.”
“Groovy. Call me Rock”, I said as we shared a handshake once again.
In the car, we were whipping past commercial airliners that haven’t moved for the last 6 weeks. This virus business is killing international air travel. It’s really going to take a global toll once it’s all done and dusted. Luckily I have a fully functioning immune system and can still travel.
“Major Nak”, I asked as we zipped past a Meraj Airways 747 that needed a good wash, “What happened to Col. Chickpea or whatever his name was who brought me here?”
“Ah, yes.”, Major Nak replied, “Lieutenant Dhuleep’s behavior was noted. I am replacing him for the remainder of your trip. You see, I have read your contract.”
“I see”, I replied, noting the only one to rat out the rambunctious Lieutenant was the silent driver, so I need to open a couple of new dossiers.
“I’d like to know the name of our driver. He’s been very polite and I wish to commend him in a letter I wrote for Dr. Mirchandani.” I asked Major Nak.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” He assured me.
“Oh, I think I should note exemplar conduct and deportment as well as that not so. His name?” I asked again.
Major Nak looked rather uncomfortable. The car slowed to a stop. The driver slews around in his seat.
“I am Aryabhata Ranganekary of The Indian Research and Analysis Wing, Doctor. Please convey my regards to Agents Rack and Ruin the next time you should talk together. Happy trails.” The driver says.
I am flummoxed.
The car starts up and we drive the last mile and a half in silence.
We pull up alongside an exquisitely appointed and brand new looking Gulfstream G700. It’s a beast of a private jet. Twin engines, tasteful white and blue exterior, and just a small circle of five black stars betray it as something not fresh off the showroom floor.
The trunk lid pops on the limo and my gear is whisked away to the cargo hold of the jet before I could get out of the car.
“Careful with that, it’s…oh, never mind…” I say as my gear disappears.
I walk over to the driver’s window and give a slight tappy-tap. It rolls down.
“I’ll give Rack and Run your best, Agent Ranganekary”, I say and hand him one of my best cigars. “Please, enjoy.”
He smiles and shakes my hand. “Do not forget, Doctor. Hello to Rack and Ruin. It’s been years.”
“No worries, mate,” I say, and with a tip of the Stetson, he departs.
I’m escorted onto the jet. It’s plush, lavish and all of this is entirely wasted on me.
“Have a seat, Doctor. Any actually. You and I are the only passengers.” Major Nak notes.
This is one of the few times in my career that the passengers on the flight will be outnumbered by the flight crew.
I pick a plush seat on the left-hand side of the jet. Major Nak chooses one opposite. A pair of stunning, nubile, young Indian misses arrive. They help me sort out the in-cabin storage and put my carry on gear safely away but readily convenient.
The captain, co-pilot, navigator, and security agent, I suppose, come aboard and greet Major Nak and myself personally. They promise it will be a smooth flight.
“Normal flight time for this trip is 7.5 hours. We’ll be flying above 50,000 feet at Mach 0.90, so we should be able to shave that to 6.5” Major Nak informs me.
“That works for me”, I reply, “I may be a seasoned world traveler, but the less time in the air, the more I like it.”
“You will enjoy these hours.” Major Nak assures me, “You are but the second VIP to travel in this aircraft. The first was the General Vishnu Heravdakar of the Indian Armed Forces.”
“I am honored”, I said and gave a little clasped hand bow.
“Very good, Doctor. Can I interest you in a drink?” He asks.
“Only if it’s large, cold, and free,” I replied with a chuckle.
“Rushpa!” He calls.
One of the Indian cabin crew magically appears.
“A drink for our guest. And one for myself as well.” He orders.
She smiles, executes a quick little bow, and hurries off to the galley. Moments later, a very tall, nicely iced vodka, lime, and carbonated citrus cocktail is finding a home in my hand.
“As per your contract.” Major Nak smiles.
“I didn’t specify what drink I required.” I protested.
“Your reputation precedes you, Doctor.” Major Nak says, “Aish'!” which is the Indian equivalent of cheers.
I reply “Salaamat'!”, which is an Urdu equivalent of ‘Cheers!’, a term which I use in the Sultanate from time to time.
He looks surprised that I know this and begins to rattle off in machine-gun cadence Urdu something or other indecipherable.
“Sorry, Major”, I say, “But that’s the extent of my Urdu.”
He laughs and says that he was saying how unusual it was for some ‘gora’ to speak Urdu.
He goes on to explain that ‘gora’ means ‘white’ and is not meant to be derogatory.
“Oh, no problem, Major”, I say, “I’ve got a really thick skin, yaar [mate].”
Major Nak laughs, “You’re going to fit in perfectly.”
Before half my drink as gone, we were wheel-up and headed south. I have to comment again, I have never seen international airports this quiet, and I’ve been I some in countries with active shooting wars. This viral business is taking a serious toll, and I don’t mean just in human life. Though, that is a regrettable statistic, but not novel.
Anyways, we’re whooshing to Angel’s Eleven and according to the readout on the bulkhead of the cabin, we leveled out at 54,000 feet above mean sea level, at an airspeed of Mach 0.87.
We were cookin’ now.
I’m looking out the window and seeing the tops of clouds and not much else. I smell smoke and turn to see Major Nak lighting up a Gold Flake King cigarette.
I’d have never thought to fire up a heater in a plane, much less one nudging the sound barrier at over 10 miles altitude.
“Oh, Doctor”, he says, “If you’d like, I’ll arrange an ashtray for you.”
“Please,” I said, slightly confused.
“Vijaya!” he barks. One of the other of the pair of cabin attendants materializes out of nowhere.
“An ashtray for our distinguished guest.” He orders.
She departs with a smile and a slight bow. She returns with a standing ashtray that somehow locks into the floor and hands me a new drink.
“I saw your drink was almost finished.” She purrs.
“Thank you” I said, “Aapaka bahut bahut dhanyavaad.” [आपका बहुत बहुत धन्यवाद।,Thank you very much.]
She beams and retires to wherever they store the cabin crew on these flights.
“So, Doctor, tell me. What brings you here?” Major Nak queries, obviously making small talk as he’s already admitted to reading my contract.
We spend the next 5 or so hours just chewing the rag, talking things over. I gave him a play-by-play of my experiences over in Best Korea. He laughed so hard at the way we spent our last night in-country, I thought he might wet himself. That he was not so covertly trying to match me drink-for-drink I think might have helped elicit his raucous response.
We had a choice of Western or Indian food as an in-flight meal. I like Indian food, but sometimes, it doesn’t return the favor. I asked for the Western meal, and Vijaya asked me how I’d like my steak.
Well, that was weird on several levels. But since they offered, I replied, “Blue, please.”
It arrived blue as blue can perfectly be on a 2” thick T-bone. There was grilled corn on the cob, small, whole buttered parslied potatoes, and camp beans on the side.
Of course, a fresh drink accompanied the meal.
Major Nak decided to take a nap right after tea. I didn’t want to wake him. Poor soul.
He was just too high-strung...
To be continued…

[Table] I’ve had a 71-year career in nuclear energy and have seen many setbacks but believe strongly that nuclear power can provide a clean, reliable, and relatively inexpensive source of energy to the world. AMA

Source | Guestbook
An answer was highlighted about nuclear waste disposal.

Questions	Answers
Can nuclear energy power cars and trucks? What’s your thoughts on that? And what do you think, how many years it takes roughly estimating if you it’s possible?	Oh, ok. That's a good question! The answer is yes, but they do it by creating the energy in central stations and using it to charge batteries.
	There is no question that electricity can drive vehicles. We already know that, we're doing it. It's the source! An electric-transported vehicle, broadly speaking, depends on the source! If you get the electricity from a gasoline engine that's mounted in the car, ultimately the energy is based upon gasoline. If you operate a car with a plug-in that allows you to go two or three hundred miles… it's the source of that electricity!
	In DC we have 2 or 3 nuclear power plants that produce maybe 30% of the electricity. People that plug in their electric car are taking electricity from the grid and 30% of that in the DC area is nuclear.
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We have nuclear submarines, why do you think nuclear never caught on with the shipping industry? It seems like a lot of global emissions could be eliminated if we had nuclear shipping vessels.	All of our aircraft carriers (which are surface ships) are nuclear powered. There was an attempt 50 year ago or so to establish a commercial surface ship with nuclear power, I think it was called the Savannah, which did a world tour. That particular ship showed off what could be done. But in terms of commercial applications, it never has become important in the US and throughout the world.
	The surface ships (other than military ships) that do use nuclear power are very specialized. The nuclear-powered icebreakers of the Russian fleet, that’s a very specialized activity, and nuclear power is particularly useful there, because it can operate for a very long time without refueling.
	I don’t know all the reasons why it hasn’t caught on in other surface shipping. It simply has not grown even though it’s technically feasible. That ultimately involves investment decisions by shipbuilders who persist in older technology using, in most cases, oil. So I’m as puzzled as you, and can’t give a logical answer.
With construction costs for large scale plants becoming prohibitive (at least in the U.S.), are small modular reactors the future of nuclear?	Interesting question.
	There is a large nuclear power plant being built today in spite of the so-called incredibly high prices (and I’m talking about in America). So I’m not convinced that it is priced out of reach.
	Small reactors still have a higher cost per kilowatt hour. They are a more expensive source of energy than large reactors. However they have one virtue which really attracts people: They can be built in increments and get online sooner. Big reactors can get delayed and delayed and the whole time you’re paying ongoing construction costs. There’s no question that being able to get online and get some income while doing increments, that is an advantage. In the long run that may turn out to be an overwhelming advantage that gives small-scale reactors a better bet.
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What I've seen as a genuine advantage is the possibility of mass manufacturing these small reactors and delivering them pre-assembled to a prepared construction site on the back of a truck. Do you think that will help SMR's outcompete larger designs which must be assembled on site?	Well, we have yet to build even one SMR (small module reactor). It's a vision for the future. Technically it's doable. But at the moment, economically, it's not a strong argument because the factories don't exist.
	In the long run, it's an attractive concept. Any system where you create a design, where that specific design has been judged to be safe, and then reproduce the same design over and over, has big advantages.
	Incidentally this is one of the attractive things about France's nuclear program. They have multiple nuclear power sites that all have basically the same design.
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Could small scale reactors become a better option if certain technology was improved? Is it a matter of time or is there some limit imposed by physics/chemistry?	There's no limit that I know of imposed by physics, chemistry, or hydrodynamics.
	It certainly can be improved, and there are interesting concept being discussed in terms of removal. There's a design involving a boiling fluid which would be transported some distance away for cooling, so you spread out the area in which the heat is being absorbed into the surrounding rock.
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Are you referring to Plant Vogel? If so it’s almost been shuttered so many times I’m surprised they’ve kept the project going! What are your thoughts on the project? Do you think it’s worth it to keep the project going?	Yes, I was referring to plant Vogel. And you're right, it has been up and down, and I was surprised to learn that it was continuing. I hope that it will be completed, because last I heard it was in the final stages. That could be several years to completion. But many of the major components have finally been installed, and the final containment vessel has apparently been closed. So it's near completion, and I hope it is completed.
	If it were put in a sort of cold storage, incomplete state, completing it in the future is much more difficult, because many things you need are no longer available. So if it's to be completed, it should be done with some continuity.
	But it established a very bad reputation for being much longer than originally designed, and much more expensive. And that reputation has certainly handicapped future large plants. It becomes an even larger argument in favor of small plants that are being touted now.
In your opinion which country is leading the charge in nuclear energy and which country do you think will pull ahead in the future?	The answer for both of these is China. China is definitely leading the charge at the moment -- they are leading the commitments to design, build, and operate reactors. And I see no slackening of interest in that country for continued expansion.
	When my wife and I were there last, the air pollution problem in Shanghai was serious. And ultimately I think what China realizes is the sooner they can expand their nuclear power, the better the environment will be, especially in the larger cities.
	Obviously their economy is growing rapidly, and any growing economy requires a growth in electrical energy. Most of China's power currently comes from coal, but nuclear can step in and take some of that burden.
How was the design of nuclear reactors changed through the years? Do you think it will ever be safe to use nuclear power where you might get an earthquake?	Improved reactor containment is the most important change that has come about. Very, very good design of reactor containment systems, due to excellent independent analyses of the safety systems. I'm very impressed with the great care the Nuclear Regulatory Commission puts into making nuclear operations more broadly safe (whether it’s nuclear medicine, storing fuel safely, reviewing long-term safety of waste disposal, etc.).
	These containment practices include the analysis associated with an earthquake. There was a devastating earthquake on the western shore of Japan that caused the shutdown of many reactors. And those reactors were safely shut down.
	This was a good demonstration of the fact that if you design for such an occurrence, you can survive it.
Theoretically, how small do you imagine reactors could become?	Well, there's some effort now to develop what is called a microreactor. It's principally for defense use, for locations that might require a power source that can operate several years without having to rely on external supplies like a power grid or flying in diesel fuel. That's under study at Idaho National Laboratory.
	But what most intrigues me is the idea that you could provide power in a location and then remove it. There are plenty of places, particularly in Africa, that do not have electricity. It could be supplied nicely in a concept of a transportable system, but we’re looking at decades [for this to be developed].
In your opinion, what are the biggest downsides of nuclear energy? As a layperson I know it costs a ton, but what else?	Costs a ton! Haha.
	Until we actually demonstrate the will — and I won’t say what kind of will, I just mean the actual backbone — to actually dispose permanently (for the next thousand years) the nuclear waste in the country (we now have in excess of 70,000, probably 80,000 tons of spent/used fuel) — it’s the biggest drawback.
	Until we have a functioning disposal system it’s going to continue to be a negative for nuclear power in America. Quite frankly the Yucca Mountain project was killed because of lack of political strength. It was said to be safe by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and yet at this point we have put off solving that problem.
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Thank you for answering! Regarding the waste problem, how viable is recycling?	Recycling is, in the long run, a very interesting and attractive approach. It does not eliminate the waste — it concentrates it. It separates the fuel that remains in the waste from the fission products, mostly which simply need to be disposed of safely. But the recycling is something I’ve been interested in for decades. Ultimately, it allows virtually all of the uranium to be used (both U-235, and U-238).
	Right now there are economic issues. In order to recycle economically you need to do it at a very large scale. France and Russia actually each have a plant that does at least one round of recycling. India has an experimental program around this. China is leading the pack in terms of future plans. The US does not currently do any recycling.
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I'm generally curious. Can't we package the waste and launch that shit off into space to never return?	Having the nuclear waste in outer space is safe. But getting it into space is dangerous (for example if the rocket explodes). From a safety standpoint it is much more predictable to use deep geologic disposal.
	Sending it into space is also expensive. The energy required to put it into space is close to, or more than, the original power generated by the waste!
Where do you see the future of nuclear energy going?	It’s hard to tell. For example Germany has decided to abandon nuclear power even though they were one of the early adopters. But there are other countries — my favorite example is China — China thinks that nuclear power is going to be very important for them for a long time. They’re building more reactors than any other country in the world. And I think they’re building safe systems. Some parts of the world have essentially made a commitment that it’ll be an important part of their energy for a long time.
	At the moment 75% of all power in France is nuclear. It’s an unusual situation. They don’t have as many reactors as the US but they decided decades ago to make that their primary source of energy. But it’s interesting that they’re shutting down old reactors, and have a commitment to REDUCE their dependence on nuclear power to 50%, whether it’s hydro or coal or natural gas. I don’t think they’re going to save money, and it doesn’t necessarily improve the environment, but much of their constituency feels 75% is just too high of an amount.
Do you have an solutions for nuclear waste?	Yes, I worked for 16 years on the Yucca Mountain project in Nevada, which I’m convinced is a safe location to dispose of nuclear waste.
	At the Office of Civilian Radioactive Waste Management (OCRWM) we did a site study and identified Yucca Mountain in Nevada as a site for nuclear waste disposal. This was right next to a nuclear test site where 900 nuclear tests had been done with no containment. So a well-contained waste disposal site should have been very safe.
	Our research included a performance assessment showing it would handle waste safely for at least 50,000 years. Not only should that should be perfectly safe, but as a backup there could be test wells in the nearby land to monitor the aquifer (1000 feet below the repository site anyway) that would detect if there was any radioactivity present in the aquifer, and if it were detected, that could be removed using ion exchange.
	But the most important thing about this site, from a long-term perspective, is that the aquifer drained into Death Valley. It didn’t drain into the Colorado River or any other water source that would cause any problems 100,000 years from now.
What happens to a nuclear plant in the event of no humans to maintain it? Would it meltdown and leak radiation like Chernobyl? When humans are gone will nuclear plants have long term, adverse effects on wildlife?	In my judgment, no. But that requires some advance work. You have to plan for the cooling process to be done without humans.
	Right now the plants we design do require maintenance after shutdown. But we do have plants, for example one I visited in Dresden, which have been shutdown and are safe, with no additional work required to keep them from melting. They still have guards to prevent anyone from tampering with it, but do not otherwise require additional maintenance.
	Also, this is important! 1.8 billion years ago there was a natural nuclear reactor that operated in what is now the country of Gabon in Western Africa. It operated for hundreds of thousands of years, shut down itself, produced a ton of plutonium, and life has since done pretty well!
Are you one of those liquid thorium salt reactor guys?	I am not a guy associated with any particular reactor design but I happen to know a little bit about liquid thorium. A long time ago, when I was at Oak Ridge National Laboratory, there was an effort to develop a molten salt reactor. A long time ago! I left there in 1972.
	In these experimental efforts, the reactor actually operated successfully, and it actually involved thorium. But there are many problems to be solved, and it did not prove a commercial feasibility, and there is a lot of work to do improving materials of construction that will withstand the environment, and long-term stabilizing of the system. It’s a longer shot than other approaches, but is still feasible.
Did you considering leaving the field after Chernobyl, three mile island or fukushima?	No, no! What I felt was chagrin and unhappiness that the design features of those reactors contributed to the accidents. For example, in the case of Fukushima, it saddened me that they lost their auxiliary power, when if they had put their auxiliary power up on a hill behind the plant, with simple wire connections, the disaster would have been prevented. But it was located in the basement, and there was a flood.
	Japan now has an independent safety review organization, and have 50 shut down reactors that are very very slowly being put back online.
	In the US, in 1975 it was decided the Atomic Energy Commission should NOT be both the developer and reviewer of nuclear power plants. And as a result, since then, there have been no deaths of any Americans as a result of our nuclear power grid. That includes all the power that has been generated on submarines and aircraft carriers.
I am 62 and am thinking of retiring later than my cohorts because retirement doesn't look all that interesting. I work in a newer field and know that opportunities will continue to present themselves for many years to come. What has helped you to continue and flourish both physically and mentally in a world that sometimes sees older people as bothersome as opposed to wise? Edit: should not matter but female, business continuity and resilience.	I can only speak from experience. I found working increasingly interesting with age. New opportunities and new interesting topics kept emerging. Since the federal government, at least, has a policy of not discriminating on the basis of age, I elected to continue, and I was glad I did. Right up to my 92nd birthday, I was still enjoying going to work and working with others on new and interesting subject matter.
	If this present work-from-home would continue indefinitely, I'm not sure I'd be quite as enthusiastic. Because it was the physical interaction with people of all ages and the sharing of their ideas that continued to make it so interesting and exciting.
	So I'm hoping that that type of physical interaction will re-emerge, perhaps after the vaccine, and we can go back to things which I found most interesting, namely technical interaction with individuals and groups on a personal basis.
What were the obstacles you faced when Chernobyl happened? Also, were your own beliefs affected by Chernobyl?	I was personally not impacted professionally. I was saddened because a preventable accident, and that particular reactor didn't have the kind of containment that all of our nuclear power plants have in the US (and that's true of almost everywhere, including Russia now).
What's the dumbest reason you've seen someone give for why we shouldn't go nuclear? Bonus points if it's not the standard mutants/wasteland/cancer shtick	The argument that we don’t have a way of disposing of the waste.
	People use the argument that we don’t have a good way of waste disposal to say “don’t go down that pathway.” But we do! It is being done today in Finland, and it is being done under conditions that are similar to ours.
	It's an opinion and there are going to be other opinions. But that's mine.
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I'm curious about this, can you elaborate of the good way being used currently? I was in the impression that we were always stuck with useless waste for 100's of years, but I might just be uneducated, would love to know where I'm wrong.	OK. In Finland, they're about to start deep geologic disposal. The question of "is deep geologic disposal safe?" has been argued for generations. The consensus of the scientific community is that it is safe. I talked more in another answer here about some of the safety details of that approach.
	In the US there is a good deal of power in the hands of the states. So there's a question of whether you can do something safely in America, where there might be a national commitment but the states might be resistant, even to transport waste to the site. But that issue does not exist in Finland. They do not have provinces which have almost veto power (which is what really happened in Nevada, with the Yucca Mountain project I talked about in the link above).
	Also, suppose a baby is born, and for their whole lifetime the only power they use is nuclear. It turns out the amount of nuclear waste they would generate over their entire lifetime is just two Coca-Cola cans! So the question is, can you safely dispose of something like that? The answer is, yes, with deep geologic disposal.
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There are very few sites that have the right conditions. In Germany we tried multiple salt mines as long-term storage, but there were always problems with water entering them. Another problem is geological activity. How will all countries be able to keep their nuclear waste safe for thousands of years?	That's a very difficult question, particularly in cases of small countries with a limited amount of nuclear energy. The basic concept that every country with nuclear power needs to solve the disposal problem within its boundaries has led to a lot of interesting discussion that I've been involved in, such as regional repositories, in which a group of countries work together to select the best location within the group, so that the geology is the most favorable.
	That's certainly a possible approach. It's not ever gone very far beyond the discussion level, but it has been discussed as a way of addressing the central issue, which is that it's very good to take advantage of favorable geology, but not all countries have it.
	The other interesting concept is one where a country sells nuclear power plants to another, on the basis of accepting the waste as a part of that. That's offered commercially today, in the sense that there are recent examples of that being successfully negotiated. In that case, the country doing the successful export of both reactor and fuel has decided in advance they have the proper geology and can handle the waste.
^{the below is another reply to the second answer}
We know that coal power plants also produce radioactive waste. Can you comment on how a coal-powered life compares (in volume of radioactive waste produced) to a nuclear-powered life?	In the normal operation of coal-fired plants, there is gaseous and liquid release which contain radioactive material simply because of the tradition associated with how those plants are designed and operated. There wasn't much attention paid to the fact that radioactivity was being released.
	But it surprised many people to learn that nuclear and coal plants, when compared in terms of radioactivity being released, coal plants are much worse sources than nuclear. That's a quantitative fact.
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I think part of the problem is that people don't trust companies to dispose of the waste safely even if it is possible as most companies will cut corners to turn a profit as long as they know they wont get caught or if they do the fine will be less than the cost of safe disposal. So what would you change to ensure that companies do do the right thing in respects to disposal and safety?	In the US, I would require that they get approval from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission before they dispose of the waste. And I would require that nuclear waste be routinely checked by an independent organization.
	And this exists today! Nobody handles nuclear waste today independently (and we have a lot -- we have 70,000 or 80,000 tons). The handling is all checked by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission for whom I have a great deal of respect. And they not only check things, if there are errors, the companies pay for it!
^{the below is another reply to the original answer}
I am actually a fan of Nuclear energy, but to say fears over waste is the dumbest reason for opposing it makes absolutely no sense to me, it's the most valid. You say yourself in another answer one thing holding back nuclear energy is cost of disposal. While energy companies are driven by profit margins I don't see how you can be so full of faith that it's not a reason for concern. Just because a clean safe way to dispose it is possible, doesn't mean that is the way it will be done.	In America we have over $30 billion in a nuclear waste fund to cover the cost of disposal. Companies must contribute $.001 per KWh of nuclear waste fund. That was built into the original law in 1982.
	This is done in many other countries the same way. So the cost of disposal has been, in essence, figured into the system from the start. It is not what has stopped disposal in America. It's not a cost issue, but it is very much an issue of will, of resolve, of going ahead and doing what many people believe to be a very logical and safe way of handling the waste.
	My original response still stands -- to say we don't know how to handle the waste, and use that as an argument against nuclear power, is in my judgment, silly. It's not a valid argument. But cost is not the issue.
	Once the government decided to drop the work on the Yucca Mountain project around 2012, the nuclear power plant owners in America went to court and got a decision that let them stop putting money into the nuclear waste fund. So that provision is not currently being exercised.
	Not just that, but the additional cost of [on-site] storage at site is being charged to the taxpayer. We're actually paying close to half a billion dollars per year out of our regular revenues from tax back to the utility companies to cover the cost of on-site storage. It's a terrible situation. We've lost the income to the waste fund, which pays for disposal, and we're paying extra because of the lack of will. It's not a pretty story but it's what's actually going on.
Most people I encounter are extremely antagonistic or terrified of nuclear power. What do you think can be done to improve public understanding and acceptance of it?	I suppose in the long run it would help if the education system we had treated nuclear power in an objective manner. I think it'd be nice if even if the grade school or high school level there was better information available to allow people to understand what's involved in the generation of the power, what the safety issues are, and how to treat them as you do anything else.
	Every bit of engineering we do in the country, in any field, involves an understanding of the hazards and a way to address them. It's possible to do that with nuclear.
It seems like the biggest obstacle to widespread nuclear power adoption is the public image after accidents, and we seemed to be doing better for a long stretch since Three Mike Island and Chernobyl… until Fukushima Daiichi. What needs to happen to reactor design or engineering to assure the public that nuclear power is safe, or is it really a matter of PR? What about issues surrounding spent fuel isolation and WIPP?	I don't know what WIPP is. Regarding the engineering, current designs in America, France, and China are good, safe design. Take Three Mile Island. There was no significant release of radioactivity, and no one was hurt. It's because it was a good containment system.
	The current design of reactors, which is different from Chernobyl, and different from Fukushima, is safe! I don't want to get involved in public relations issues, but I'm just telling you what the facts are today.
In my country, Italy, we chose to ban nuclear energy with a referendum, just after the Chernobyl disaster. Do you think energy, given the state of the world, should be managed by an entity that supersede governments and politics? Thank you.	laughter Do I think that countries shouldn't be allowed to make a political decision like that? Of course not! That's a potato I would never pick up.
	Some countries will make this decision and that's fine. That's a national decision. It's their decision to make.
How proud are your daughter and son-in-law of you as they do an AMA with you?	(Daughter and son-in-law here) Very proud :)
What do you do with the nuclear waste? Can you dispose of it in a safe way?	Yes. There's a technique called deep geologic disposal. The International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) in Vienna has for years had seminars talking about safe disposal, and the consensus on those evaluations is that the best way to handle long term disposal of nuclear waste is in deep geologic disposal.
	This means putting nuclear waste in a long-lasting metal container with a very, very long life expectancy and placing that container deep underground. It is then backfilled (re-covered with the material that was originally there).
	I talked more about safe nuclear waste disposal here.
What can we (non-experts) say in a normal conversation without complicated language to persuade other non-experts that nuclear power isn't as dangerous or scary as its made out to be in media? Basically hoping for an explain like I'm 5 for considering nuclear as an option for world energy.	Nuclear energy basically produces heat. No smoke. It boils water. The steam from the boiling water operates turbines. That technology is simple. It's been used for a lot longer than nuclear power. We've also learned how to design containers that keep all the nuclear material in it.
	You put in water, and all that comes out is steam.
After highschool I am going into the Navy for the Naval Nuclear Engineering program. Do you have any tips for someone going into this field?	There are nuclear power plants in our country that would love to have someone that comes out of the nuclear Navy as a staff member.
	My advice is, take the opportunity, learn as much as you can, and look forward to the good possibility that you will be offered civilian employment in the nuclear industry as a result. Keep learning as much as possible about the current status of nuclear learning, and improve it if you can.
Do you think we could do fusion energy within the next 100 years or is it probably going to stay within the realm of science fiction?	Fusion energy… it's famous for being always 20 years away.
	A lot will depend on the success of the current project in France. We're going to learn an awful lot about long-term feasibility. I'm not enough of an expert to be able to really project. My interest and knowledge is fission, not fusion.
	But I'm as interested as anybody in trying to be optimistic. It's a hoped-for technology. But it's obviously a difficult technology or it wouldn't be so slow coming. At 1958, at the second Conference on the Peaceful Use of Atomic Energy in Geneva, which I attended, the main feature was fusion energy, and there was overoptimism.
Why can’t wind and hydro work better than nuclear?	In America, interestingly enough, hydro power is not a growth industry, and there are many cases where dams which have been used to produce power in the past have actually been removed in order to recreate wild rivers (rivers without the negative impacts of dams, in order to allow the original specsi to come back.)
	And of course the major problem with wind is often the wind doesn't below. So it's not a reliable energy source. The same thing applies to solar -- the sun doesn't always shine.
	But there are ways in which nuclear and other renewable energy technologies can work together, and that's increasingly the case. There are plenty of places in America where utility companies take advantage of the plusses of the various technologies that they have available to them and blend them together nicely. So it doesn't have to be an either-or.
Hi jhogan, thanks for your AMA and i fear i am late to the party, but.. how do you see the problem with nuclear reactors and higher cancer rates for people living near them? In Germany we have consistent higher cancer rates of peoples and villages living around nuclear reactors. what would be your proposal solving that? i really hope i get an answer :) because i think nuclear energy is still important, though green energy is also. but without nuclear energy we also loose so much knowledge.	Let me just say that that statistic is not available to me, I haven't seen or heard it before. I can say that there is no comparable statistic in the US.
	It would imply, though, that radiation levels around nuclear power plants are meaningfully higher than surrounding natural radiation, and that is not true in America.
	I find the question difficult to answer because I am not aware of the phenomenon itself in Germany, and I am also convinced that it is not the case in the US.
Hello sir, thank you for doing an AMA about nuclear energy! Last month, a battery company named NDB published a concept for nano-diamond batteries that utilize leftover radioactive material from nuclear reactors to generate electrical energy. Do you think its possible that these batteries could be a long-term energy solution if successfully developed?	I've read the news report. I've read no technical details on the subject. I'm skeptical… batteries based upon radioactive materials haven't been, broadly speaking, developed in any meaningful way that I know of. I'd need to know a lot more than what's in the news report. The news reports just say it's been developed but it's not available.
	Until someone publishes a paper in which the details and source of energy are described in a meaningful way, it's nothing more right now than an advertising claim.
How many times has someone told you, "it's pronounced nucular"?	laughter
	President Eisenhower, who invited the "Atoms for Peace" program said "nucular". It's a very common mispronunciation.
What is your favorite Italian dish?	(laughter)
	[Facilitator comment: he's really thinking about this, and discussing with his wife]
	I think eggplant parmesan. When it's well-prepared.

E-waste recycling in Delhi

OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Breaking Bad, Part 10

Continuing
Since I had a little extra time, I had him drop the personnel cage, which was about the size of a phone booth (remember them?) but made of welded ½” rebar, down through the hole in the foredeck of the ship. I needed to load a few items and figured why the hell walk up and down stairs when I had a personal elevator at my disposal?
Into the belly of the beast once again and I gathered up some of the more needful items. I had that crane operator, he of the surgical touch, hang me off the prow of that ship while I did what I considered a necessity, then over to the back side of the cut, over the top to the opposite side, and back again.
By the time darkness began to fall, I had completed all my extraneous wiring. The crane operator even deposited me ever so gently about 3 feet from my waiting motorcycle. Over the radio I thanked him again and invited him to come around tomorrow at 0600 for a few final checks. I’d save him a front-row 1000 hours seat to see what he had a hand in creating.
I went straight to the Raj as I was going to need my PPEs the next day anyways. Got in, parked my bike, went straight to the bar, had a couple of long, hard day at the office drinks, and retired to my room where I locked the door. After calling Esme and telling her I finally got my tickets home, well, the promise of tickets to at least to Dubai; that she should meet me at the Four Seasons as I wrangled it through my contract. We could wait out this silly viral lockdown in comfort on someone else’s nickel until they decided to open the Sultanate again.
We agreed that she’d meet me at the hotel in 3-4 days’ time; it seems she had some glasses made and they wouldn’t be done for a couple of days. Plus, she really enjoyed her mother’s company. Can’t argue with that. It means I’ll have to spend a few nights alone, on my own, bereft of human companionship, in a 5-star hotel in an international venue while it’s all being paid for by someone else.
I think I can deal with the upcoming hardship. It’ll be tough, but I think I can gut it out.
But first, there are some details to which I have to attend. There’s this package for Mr. Vikramaditya Shrivastava, the knot headed warehouse foreman who thought that by spending fewer rupees at a dodgy Hong Kong explosives purveyor that he’d be saving the company money. I’ll drop by his office bright and early tomorrow as I need to be out on-site very early, indeed, to make sure all is in readiness.
Also, there’s this box I have for our own Majordomo. He’ll be leaving tonight for his weekly shopping trip to town. Since I have bribed the floor-maid with ridiculous sums of rupees, she’ll let me in his room to deliver my present and has promised, up, down and sideways, that she won’t say a word to anyone.
I send off Sanjay’s and my latest reports to Agents Rack and Ruin, explaining that I’m far too busy to talk with them right now and that I want to finish what I started for fear of landing in the GULAG. I explain that I’m very querulous of Goodgulf Greyteeth and his brown-shirted minions. I tell them that I think his way of looking at things and assessing them are most at odds with the way I see things.
I make it as convoluted and misdirected as the wiring I did today on the boat.
I also tell them that I’m knocking off early tonight as tomorrow’s show time and I need a good night’s sleep. Especially for everything I’ve got planned with all the dignitaries who are slated to arrive.
If that doesn’t get their giblets tap-dancing, I’m not certain what would.
I hear my phones buzzing but after checking the numbers and seeing they’re not from Baja Canada, I roundly ignore them.
I decide that the new issue of Blaster’s and Quarryman’s Monthly would be just the reading ticket and retire to the bubbly tub with that, a bottle of Old Fornicator, a bucket of ice, and several cigars. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day; best to be rested and ready.
I’m up at 0500 hours, showered, shower-scotched, dressed, and at the job site promptly at 0600; right after I made a surreptitious delivery to a certain Warehouse Foreman’s office.
The Majordomo took possession of his package late last night, but I sincerely doubt he’s aware of that fact; or will be until I send an anonymous message.
The crane operator I paid last night was there as I mentioned I’d be in early to give the place a final once-over. After parting with a couple of cigars, a wad of rupees, and the promise of a front-row seat, I eschew the personnel basket and have him just clip onto my rescue harness. I need mobility at this point, so I gather up a few extra blasting caps, boosters, roll some Primacord in loops and hang it from the carabiners on the front of my harness or stuff them into one of many pockets. Then I give the thumbs-up “haul-away” sign.
“This is the cat’s ass”, I thought as I’m swinging around the outside of that old boat like some sort of aging Spiderman who’s really let himself go. I didn’t care that OSHA would have mailed me home sans bubble wrap if they ever saw this sort of stunt stateside, but that’s just the thing. I’m not stateside. Where else can I have such freedom in the world today to calculate the personal risk involved and decide that I can handle the hazards?
Sure, I could fall. I could get caught on an edge of very sharp marine steel and get sliced up a treat. Maybe several billion errant electrons go where they are not only not wanted but are insulated against, and in short, cause a short. I’d be a 22-stone charcoaled piñata, complete with diverticula-ed entrails and cinder-block liver decorations.
However, it’s my choice. I knew the job was dangerous when I took it. However, I also know how to mitigate the danger. For some, what I’m doing would be certain death. For me, who knows the ropes, circuits, and ins-and-outs, it’s a pleasant diversion to an otherwise boring day.
“Left 10 meters”, I call over the radio, and I swing over to exactly where I need to check some connections.
“8 meters due down”, I say and the bottom drops out. 25 or so feet later, I’m inspecting another circuit plexus. I feel like Arthur Dent and Slartibartfast is my co-pilot.
This went on for about an hour. I even had him drop me over the side, deep into the very bowels of the boat. I disconnect, hang the crane hook, and told the driver to hold on. I need to walkabout inside the ship and galv a few dozen connections. This is so much easier than futzing around with personnel baskets, scissor lifts, and my personal nemesis, stairs.
After another 30 minutes, I hook up and give a couple of pips on the radio.
“Going up!” I say as I whoosh past the hole we had cut in the foredeck. A few hand gestures later, and I’m de-hooked once again and on solid ground. I wave to my crane operator, he waves back and begins to drive off to his real job for the day.
No worries. He’ll be back, without the crane, for the 1000 hour kick-off time.
Since the show isn’t slated to begin, as I just noted, until 1000, I go back over to the portable office they had so thoughtfully set up for us and begin brewing the morning coffee. I rummage through my field case and am relieved to see that I have the necessary ingredients for Greenland Coffee.
And a fresh cigar.
At 0800 I get a call on the radio.
Sanjay is wondering if Mr. Maha is going to show up or if he should…never mind, there he is.
“See you in a few, Rock”, Sanjay says. He and the 24 other crew members will arrive here shortly. Nothing left to do but have a cigar and wait on the coffee.
The ship is beached and there’s a 250-meter exclusion zone around the beast. Cross where the flags are and not have the proper authority or business being there? You either are ejected off the worksite or perhaps into the local hoosegow. Don’t care who you are, no one crosses that line when it’s my watch and show.
So, I go outside and shoo Goodgulf Greyteeth and his cadre of brown shirts away from the ship.
“Good morning, Doctor”, he says smarmily, “Just admiring your handiwork. Wanted to get a good, close look before you demolish all your hard work.”
“Well”, I say, “I really hate to disappoint you, but you and your group need to get behind the flags now. Please, it’s for safety reasons. I can’t afford to have any sort of black marks on my record if one of you trip, catch a sensor, and get blown to smithereens.”
“Now Doctor”, Gulfy primps himself up to his full 5’ 5” height, “You seem to forget who you’re talking to here. I pay your salary…”
“No, Gulfy”, I remark, “You forget that in my contract, which you might pay but have also signed, names me as hookin’ bull, at all active job sites. You also seem to forget that I’m the Motherfuckin’ Pro from Dover, and what I say here is the law. All nice, legal, signed, sealed, and delivered. So, I not only do not care who you are, I have even less interest in what you have to say or what you believe. Now get behind the flags or I’ll have you forcibly ejected. We green?”
Gulfy looks like a whipped puppy. He may be a tiger in the boardroom, but out here, he’s just another fucking observer.
He relents and complies. A low “Green…” was his only word.
To try and assuage any bruised egos, I ask if anyone would like some fresh-brewed coffee.
No one says a word until Gulfy decides that, yes, he’d like a cup of my world-famous coffee.
The rest of his cadre is looking on and view me with such disdain and distrust that they’ll leave the entire pot for their boss.
“OK, your loss”, I say as I walk over to the office and get Gulfy his morning cuppa Joe.
“Here you go”, I said, handing him a travel mug, “Careful, it’s hot.”
He takes a sip, startles, looks at me, sips again and asks what wonderful blend I use to create such a fine cup of morning caffeine delivery system.
I explain the genesis of a Greenland Coffee and he sits back in his specially prepared VIP seat, smiles, and asks one of his minions if he has a cigarette.
“There ya’ go” I say, as I light up a huge breakfast cigar, “Now you’re getting’ the full picture.”
Gulfy looks at me and smiles wider. It seems we’ve had a breakthrough of sorts.
My crew arrives and since I’m just supposed to JAFO this project, well, more or less, I hold the usual morning safety meeting. I remind everyone that the job site is hot and anyone who crosses the flag line better have damn good reason to do so. I also remind them that there miles of wires and kilometers of det cord and Primacord that’s been strung. I also let them know the other name for this stuff: “Tanglefoot”.
“For fuck’s sake, you clodhoppers”, I say as many are still getting used to the idea of closed-toe steel-toed boots or closed-toed shoes of any description, “Watch where the fuck you’re walking. I don’t want anyone yanking out or tripping off a complex series of electrical circuits because they tripped over their own damned feet.”
They all nod, chuckle deferentially and smile wanly. My way of symbolically smacking them upside the head and not leaving a bruise still mystifies them.
“And, hey”, I say as I’m ready to dismiss them, “Let’s be careful out there.”
There’s a general agreement. It’s crossing close to 0900. I ask Gulfy if he and he alone wants to take a look at what’s going on here.
“After all,” I note, “We’re spending a lot of your money.”
Gulfy just smiles at me and replies, “If you are spending my money, I know it will reap great rewards.”
“Holy shit”, I think, “One Greenland Coffee and he’s sloshed.”
I’d best be off and brew up another pot.
Back in the office, I chat with Sanjay and give him the lowdown on the job. He’ll be running the show right after the full-chorus version of the Safety Dance. I’ll be more or less done here then. Out of the picture, I’ll just be on standby until I’m needed again; be that in five minutes or five years.
“Yeah”, I say, “Once they finish the Safety Dance and get out of the way. We’ll begin a countdown. At the call of 5, you hit the big, shiny red button. The rest is all automated, I hope.”
”Hope?” Sanjay asks.
“Fervently”, I reply. “Then once that’s all done and when Gulfy makes his inevitable after-blast crack, you use this”, and I hand him Captain America.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“A little present” I say, “The cording bundles are just to the right of the podium. Red is right, lemon-yellow is left. Hook up and press the first button. Galvanometer. Green. Green for go. Push the big, shiny red button once it lights, and you’ll see and hear some serious shit.”
Sanjay looks at Captain America.
“Use it in good health”, I say, “You’ve earned it.”
Hell, I can always just overhead another at Gulfy’s expense.
Sanjay is cofounded. Captain America, the Portable Electronic Blasting Machine, costs around US$650. He realizes that and he’s never before been presented with such a gift. Culture demands something of equal value in return.
I see his quandary.
“Just keep those fucking greenhorns out here from blowing their damned fingers off”, I say, “That’s payment enough.”
“Will do, Rock!”, Sanjay smiles, choking back the tears. The handshake afterward was particularly hearty and manly.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.
“A knock?”, I ponder, “In a field office?”
“It’s open!” I holler.
Major Nakula Dattachaudhuri walks in.
“I hear there’s going to be quite the show in about 30 minutes, so I thought I’d drop by.” He smiles.
“Major!”, I say rather a bit too loudly, “How the hell are you? I’m so pleased you could be here.”
“Don’t you remember? You invited me.”, he smiles, “It would be…ill-mannered… of me not to take you up on your invitation.”
“Damn glad you could make it, Major. It’s going to be a hell of a show.” I say and see someone has accompanied our major.
“Oh please”, Major Nak says, “You remember my driver, Mr. Ranganekary? I trust there’s no problem him being here as well.”
“Of course not.”, I say, walking over to Agent Ranganekary to shake his hand and welcome him aboard.
We exchange some knowing smirks and both chuckle as we shake hands. “Glad you could also make it.”
“As am I, Doctor Rocknocker of Baja Canada.” He smiles.
“OK. Code. We’re going to have a chat later on, in private.” I note.
“Anytime is fine with me. Right after our little demonstration?” I say.
“Outstanding”, Agent Ranganekary replies with a grin.
“Coffee, gentlemen?” I ask, “Get it while it’s hot.”
It’s now going on 0945. I hit the klaxon to clear the job site. Everyone knows that one tootle indicates we’re 15 minutes out. Two and we’re 10 minutes away. Three and you’d better get the fuck off, out, or down and back beyond the flags. We don’t take headcounts, even though I tried to instigate that procedure. You get caught behind the lines, it’s your own damned fault.
Still, if there was an accident...hell, that’s why they work in teams.
I worry too much.
Two blasts and time’s getting close. I do an impromptu headcount and see everyone’s here and forthrightly accounted. That makes me feel a trifle less nervous. Guess I’ll fire up a cigar as I’m the master of ceremonies for at least the first half of the show. Got to keep up appearances.
The break siren in the yard goes off daily at 1000 hours. Today it announces the beginning of the ‘Dr. Rocknocker & Company Show’.
“If everyone would please take their seats, we will begin,” I say.
There’s a bit of bustling, but most everyone is seated and sorted. We have the Chairman of the Board out here today, the company CEO, several ministers, the town mayor, 25 newly-frocked blasters, the Major and his “driver’, plus another assorted bundle of workers, shop stewards, foremen, crew leaders, and other sorts of gawpers and hangers-on.
Time to schmooze.
“Welcome gentlemen and ladies, if any are present. Anyone here from out of town?” I wait for a chuckle or two. “I am Dr. Rocknocker and have for the last fortnight been training two dozen of your most clever, most impressive, and now most highly trained workers of which your company can boast.”
I make a grand sweeping gesture toward the accumulation and they all take a bow to the thunderous applause.
“Now, we are here to justify the layout of time, money, and energy. See, previously you would attack such a project as this very large cruise ship simply with hundreds of torchbearers. Dangerous, sloppy, and slow. A real waste of manpower, machinery, and materials. It was decided by the powers that be that they would take the chance that I could drag this company, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century. Let’s replace the grunt manpower with chemistry, and let’s better utilize that manpower for something other than simply holding a flaming stick.”
There were nods and smatters of applause.
“So, I now present your first step in, if you’ll excuse my not-so-humble-opinion, the right direction. Gentlemen?”
The 24 newly-frocked ex-cadets expertly split into four teams.
“CLEAR NORTH?”
“NORTH CLEAR!”
And so on around the compass.
TWEET! TWEET! TWEET! Came the melodious tootles of 24 air horns.
“CLEAR?”
“ALL CLEAR!”
I’ve taught my guys well. I am swelling with pride; just a bit.
“किसी बड़े विस्फोट की चेतावनी देना!”
“Kisee bade visphot kee chetaavanee dena!”
“FIRE IN THE HOLE!”
I nod to Sanjay.
“10…9…8…7…6…!” and he hit the big, shiny red button.
Now my skills as a clandestine electrician come to the task.
At number ‘5’, a number 5, 5 meters tall by 3 wide, lights up with the intensity of a new-born sun. There are several, well, five, in fact, muffled explosions in the bowels of the boat.
Remember those 4” vertical pipe-footings I had welded in place? Well, they’re full of 60% Extra Fast dynamite and now detonating in strategically premeditated places. Just a sort of insurance, don’t you know? Priming the pump as it were.
After a few seconds, the millisecond delays, and all that wiring allow a giant number “4” to light up.
More muffled blasts. So far, it’s going great.
“3!” “Kaboom…kaboom…kaboom…”
“2!” “Kaboom…kaboom.”
“1!” and several 4” pipe-fulls of potassium perchlorate, titanium, iron oxide, and magnesium tetraoxide ignite and fill the cove with an unearthly bright white-hot light and sparkles.
“Ohhh…Sparkly!”
After that fades, the number board flashes brilliantly from each corner and the word “GO!” appears in 5m tall x 3m wide letters.
Seconds click by, and people wonder if there was a malfunction.
Malfunction? No. It’s just me being ostentatious.
With a huge “BLAMMO!” the 10 kilos of ANFO I had set in the middle of the number board lights off.
Immediately, all the various leads of detonation cord lights off and travels at 8,000 feet per second to their respective detonic termini. Suddenly, at 25,000 feet per second, kilometer after kilometer of Primacord go off and begin slicing through marine seagoing steel like a hot knife through an order of butter chicken.
It’s pre-etching the cuts we made in the hull, weakening them just a bit more before….
“BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!”
C-4 charges are going off, sequentially, beginning at the bottom of the hull and creeping, at some 15,000 feet per second, up the hull, over the foredeck, and down the hold.
The cuts are quick, clean, and clear. Now, with just a slight nudge…
“KA-MOTHERFUCKING-BOOM DE A-DAH!”
There it is. The 150 kilos of DOUBLEHEIX liquid binary lights off. All at once, bless its blasting velocity.
OK, yes. That was overkill. Why not? My last event here, at least for a while.
But oh, my. What a report. Short, sharp, and shocking.
With a whining screech of tearing metal from the very depths of Vulcan’s volcanic Forge, the entire prow of the once-proud cruise ship gives it up to gravity. With a wrenching rip, slashing snort, and rending rent, it plummets down whole onto the very beach sand before us.
“KER-FUCKING-SMASH!”
The whole area quivers a bit.
Some 450 tons of torn metal, plastic, and wood has just fallen some 10 meters vertically or so.
Gulfy looks up, and raises an index finger.
I smile, raise my remaining index finger, point to Sanjay, and mouth the words “HIT IT!”
He has Captain America primed and ready. He presses the big, shiny red button.
The prow section comes alive. She quivered 'n quaked. An' clutched at herself. As she tremored the beach as she was cut into twelfths.
The prow is being torn asunder from the inside by 60% DuPont Extra Fast Herculene Mining, Quarrying, Fucking Around, and Demolition Dynamite because I’m all soggy with nostalgia and a sucker for the classics.
It’s being ripped apart by explosions of lockers full of AFNO.
A couple of crusty cross-beams yield to several kilos of Kinestix solid binaries.
Some C-4 here, a dab of Tetraamminecopper perchlorate there, a little Hexanitrohexaazaisowurtzitane, a spot of Cyclonite (RDX), a soupçon of PETN, and once the metallic screaming is over, we have pieces of a ship’s prow lying static on the beach in 12 easy pieces.
I turn to the spellbound if not shell-shocked crowd with a goofy smile, a blaze orange hardhat, and a cigar that needs to be relit.
“That, gentlemen, cost approximately $35,000 in both parts and labor. We reduced the ship by 1/9th its length with the expenditure of 25 x 2 man-days and the rest in high explosives. Given that it can take up to 24 months to traditionally scrap one of these cruise liners, I had just demonstrated a method where it can be done in a couple of months, with massively less exposure of your workers to risk, more environmentally friendly, and at a savings of millions of rupees.”
Ok, there was applause when I mentioned, as I closed the formalities.
“And that’s why I’m the Motherfucking Pro from Dover.”
There was applause.
I said “Thank you”, relit my cigar, and strode off the stage.
“My job here is done”, I’m thinking, as I walk back to the office. I was secretly glad it all worked out and also glad I’ll never have to do that kind of ornamental origami with wiring and explosives ever again.
At least until next time.
I go into the air-conditioned office and plop heavily into the desk chair. Stuff the coffee, it’s, well, not Miller time, but it sure as hell is potato-juice-and-citrus time.
Good thing I thought ahead and had a cooler with all the ingredients delivered beforehand.
Of course, there’s a meet and greet after the show. I mention to the dignitaries that have gathered in the office that we need to vacate as I’ve got a swarm of heavy equipment on the way to clear the beach.
“The blaster’s need to get to work on the next slice”, I say and look over to Sanjay who is smiling broadly as well.
We are to reconvene in the boardroom of the company as there will be a catered lunch.
I can hardly wait.
yippee
I spy Mr. Ranganekary over in the corner. I sneak over as well as I can sneak and ask him when he would like to chat.
“Do not worry, Doctor, He assures me, “We will have ample time later. Go attend what needs to attend. Worry not about me, we will have time to talk. Ample time.”
Not knowing what he meant by that, I decide to leave Sanjay in charge, as that’s now his mantle to wear. I fire up the motorcycle that has been so conveniently brought over for me and head back to the barn. I change into a clean set of coveralls but decide that a hardhat and safety harness probably won’t be necessary for a boardroom lunch setting. A box of cigars, on the other hand, well…
It was quite the sumptuous spread. All sorts of a mixed grill, samosas, egg rolls, noodle dishes, finger food, and full slabs of ham, veal, lamb, and roast beef; which I found both curious given the culture but delicious nonetheless. A full open bar was set up and I decided to make the shipbreakers pay for all my extra and subterfugical work. The bartender saw me coming and by the time I made it to his tip jar, yes, they are quick learners, he had already a stout cocktail waiting for me.
I spent the rest of the day answering questions and making certain they had all my banking information correct. I was quite gratified with I received a pair of buzzes on my cell phone telephone where it was my bank telling me of the renewed vigor and turgor in my personal accounts.
I needed to cut loose of this shindig as I needed to pack and also to get my plane tickets. I was leaving on the red-eye express tomorrow at O-dark-30, but haven’t heard a word about ticketing.
“Ah, yes, Doctor; about that,” Gulfy said, somewhat unsteadily. “The airports are still closed in the Middle East and it’s been impossible for us to sort out your departure tickets.”
“Yes?” The fuse was lit. I wanted out of here. You’re not going to use this Corona craziness as some sort of ruse to keep me here, you sawed-off son of a …
“So we have arranged for a private jet to take you to Dubai”, he smiled, “If that’s acceptable.”
Anger evaporated. “Sure, I suppose that will work.”
“At your disposal”, Gulfy said, “Major Nakula Dattachaudhuri will accompany you.”
“Ah!” The penny, once again, drops. “So glad to have you along, Major!”
“And his driver?’ I wonder.
I left the soiree after shaking the hands, exchanging business cards, and pledging to stay in touch with what seemed like a veritable platoon of people. Some will be high on my re-contact list as they might just have a few little odd jobs for me. It seems that there were representatives of other shipbreaking companies in attendance.
“Well”, I supposed, “If nothing else, I do like their hospitality and willingness to pay through the nose.”
Back at the Raj, all my clothes, except for what I was wearing, were cleaned, pressed and ready to be packed. I allowed the floor maids into my room while I rustled up a fresh cocktail and watch them pack my aluminum hard-cases like the consummate professionals they were.
They spoke no English, I no Hindi, but the wads of rupees I passed over to them spoke volumes. They deserved it. I could go to work and not even spare a thought about domestic duties. These gals, and guys, here did so for me without so much as “Oh, I need a…”
After shooing them out, I called the Majordomo and asked when the jet would be ready. He told me anytime I was.
“Well, fuck this”, I said, “Es won’t be in Dubai for a few days. There’s no reason to rush. Let’s plan for a morning flight at 0600 tomorrow? Green?”
Mr. Kanada agreed on my choice of color. He would leave a wakeup call for me at 0430. He would alert all other concerned parties as well.
I loved that. ‘All other concerned parties’.
“Ha, Mr. America’s Hat, your choice of terminology belies your ulterior motives” I think.
“That’s fine.” I said, “I’ll be in repose this evening; many things to consider before returning to launch point. I’ll be awaiting my wake up call.”
Before I get all unclothed and comfortable, I call the kitchen and order up one of the sandwiches I’ve taught them to make during my stay. Fresh bialy roll, lightly toasted, strips of ham, roast beef, melting cheese, some grilled onions, and green peppers. A cheesesteak of sorts, but I like mine with swiss and paneer rather than provolone.
“Oh, and send up some ice and a bottle of White Mischief 101 if you would be so kind. Also, some sliced limes and Bitter Lemon, if you have them.” I add.
Not 15 minutes later, I’m finishing off the sandwich and refreshing my drink. I’ve already called Es and told her of my belated departure. She’s pleased that now I won’t have so long to stay at the hotel alone and get into trouble.
“If she only knew…” I mused.
“Hell.” I remembered, “She does know! Fuck. I’m such a damned Boy Scout”
I haven’t chatted with Rack and Ruin for days and I figured they’re beside themselves. I break down and figure as long as I’m leaving tomorrow, I’d spill the beans, yank their chains, rattle their cages, and poke them in the snoot, all metaphorically, of course.
I ring their office numbers and I get that they are “in dispose” and if I leave a message, “they will return my call at their earliest convenience.”
“Aw, fuck.”, I think, “They’re off on some sort of mission or job or whatever the fuck they do when they’re not bothering me. Ah, well. I tried.”
I left them a message consisting mostly of “Priviet, comrades!”, "Workers of the world, unite!", and “Nostrovia!”. Y’know, the usual sophomoric attempts at political and social satire and humor.
I also tried to not let it bother me too great that they weren’t available as I settled back into the Jacuzzi with a new cigar, a large fresh drink, and this month’s issue of “The Quarrymaster.”
The night progressed as nights do. It was dark, sudsy, and quiet. I finally caved in around 2300 hours and plopped into the acre-sized bed. I slept the sleep of the overtly righteous until exactly 0430.
“Thanks”, I croak into the phone and drop the receiver back into its cradle.
“Time to motivate”, I remind myself. I hot the opulent shower one last time, erase a couple of shower scotches, and steam up the whole room so much it looks like the windows are bleeding from the inside.
“Damn, it’s positively tropical in here”, I growl as I dress in my travel finest. The usual field outfit, but this time with orange and green argyle socks from Scotland.
There’s actually a Pringle of Scotland brick and mortar store here in Alang. These socks were the best worst color and design I could find. I tried to find blaze orange ones, but oddly I was informed “there wasn’t much call for that around these parts, Squire.”
Maybe next time.
I called the room clerk and almost immediately, there was a knock at my door. Evidently Mr. Kanada, the Majordomo alerted the staff of my itinerary. It makes me almost feel bad I left that faux crate of dynamite in his room.
But he should have known better to snoop around on me. I hope all he gets out of it is a skip on his electrocardiogram. Anything else, and I might have to place some calls and own up to my tomfoolery.
My luggage, except for my field pack is loaded on a cart and I was assured it will be in the gray Ventura limo in the garage anytime I wish to leave. I tell the doorman that I appreciate that and slip him 500 rupees.
I need to go through that time-honored and exasperating event now when one checks out of a long term stay facility. Tips for everyone. C’mon, it’s not like you can’t afford a little largesse now, you old sod.
I leave fat-stuffed envelopes for the room matrons, which I had Sanjay address for me the other day. They deserve it. That room was insanely clean, well-stocked, and above all comfortable.
More tips for the room captains, bellhops, bartenders, cooks, cleaners, hell, if you aren’t a guest here, you get a tip. That makes it so much easier.
Down at breakfast I decide to forego a heavy meal and just snack on a few of their wonderful grilled breakfast sausages and a cup or two of my ‘special blende’ coffee.
After checking out the headlines in the reading room, I go to the bar where all my Emergency Travel Flasks are topped off and I gratefully accept a “Visit Alang” thermos cup full of my favorite libation in the entire cosmos.
A free drink.
Just so happens that his is one of cold potato juice and freshly squeezed lime juice with a splash of soda. A new Rocknocker variant that goes in the “Big Book of Favorite Cocktails”.
After shaking hands with everyone, I see it’s gone around to 0500. Time to get a move on myself.
Over to the one gray Ventura limo that’s idling in the garage and see its Major Nakula Dattachaudhuri in the back with Mr. Ranganekary as the driver.
“Well”, I smile, “That’s convenient. One-stop. No waiting.”
“Indeed, Doctor”, Major Nak replies, “Shall we?”
I smile crookedly to Mr. Ranganekary as I wish him a gracious good morning and pile into the back of the vehicle.
“I see you have all the absolute necessities”, Major Nak laughs as he notes my garish travel mug and a pocketful of cigars. He plucks one of the cigars from my vest pocket and looks at me line “May I?”
“Of course”, I smile back.
I ask Mr. Ranganekary if he’d like one and he replies, “Thanks. I already have some on the plane.”
“Well” I note, “There’s that question answered.”
With no traffic to speak of other than the usual delivery trucks driven by essential employees, we make great time to the airport.
Past the main gate, past departures, past shipping and receiving and past anything that looks like a terminal building. There it is, the same old shack where I was greeted into this county. We park and I go to take my passport for its usual departure tattooing.
Major Nak asks for my passport. He says he’ll handle the departure formalities. He also says he’ll meet us back on the plane. I’m not terribly keen on relinquishing my passport to anyone, but if you can’t trust a major in the Indian Armed Forces, who can you trust?
We wheel up to the same Gulfstream G700 jet that brought me here. Now, instead of Seoul to India, it’s India to Dubai, UAE. It’s just a puddle jump across the Indian Ocean, some 3.5 hours in duration.
“Guess I’d better get started”, I say, and take a long, healthy pull on my drink.
Thus sated, I’m up the steps and into the forward left-hand seat of the aircraft. Agent Ranganekary takes the seat behind me and within a few minutes, Major Rak arrives, hands me my passport, and asks if I need anything.
“Well”, I said, shaking my now empty Alang thermal mug, “It is sure hot and thirsty out there.”
Major Nak smiles, nods his head, and says loudly: “Dusty as well. Vijaya!”
Vijaya appears out of the back with an expertly crafted and exquisitely large drink for me. Major Nak looks at me, looks at my drink, and shakes his head. He asks Vijaya for a hot Earl Grey tea, with milk instead.
He looks at me, looks at my drink once more, and says “No way. I vaguely remember the last time...”
I just smile, grin, and sit back to enjoy what I could really get used to as a means of transportation.
The flight was smooth, pleasurable, and uneventful. We were up at 57,000’ again and pushing the bitter edge of the sound barrier at Mach 0.93.
We were in Dubai International, at the military end of the airport, within 3 hours and 19 minutes.
A large SUV cab arrives and tarmac workers begin stuffing all my gear into the back. I note a haversack and one lonely carry-on joined the pile.
It seems that Major Nak and Mr. Ranganekary were going to spend a day or two in Dubai as well.
It seems they were going to stay at the Four Seasons Hotel as well.
It seems to me that something might just be up.
To be continued.

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