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Imagine the junior high class geek, a chemistry fiend who talks elemental tables and enjoys nothing more than a heated discussion on the merits of plutonium.
Now imagine that he lives in your neighborhood. He reads every chemistry book he can get his hands on and eventually begins devouring texts on nuclear physics-and understands them. His all-time heroes are Marie and Pierre Curie. His father, who long ago fell behind in following his son's passion, signs his little darling up with the Boy Scouts and encourages him to start working toward the honor of Eagle Scout, an achievement that requires collecting 21 merit badges in various disciplines, including first aid, citizenship in the community, and camping. Good, wholesome activities for good, wholesome boys, right? Not this boy, though. He decides to pursue the Atomic Energy merit badge with vigor. Other Scouts who work on this badge research important figures in the history of atomic energy, learn about reactors, and make straw-and-Styrofoam models of atoms. David Hahn, our boy, would yawn at those pursuits. He buys stacks of old smoke detectors and recovers the minute amounts of the radioactive isotope americium-241 found inside of them. He haunts antique shops-with a Geiger counter in hand-searching for clocks with radium dials that he can scrape paint chips from. Posing as a high school physics teacher, he writes to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission for information on obtaining radioactive elements. His first mission: to build a neutron gun so he can convert thorium-232 recovered from the cloth mantles found in gas lanterns into uranium-233. This takes place in a backyard garden shed. Without protective suits, lead shields, or the blessings of multiple government regulatory agencies. The neutron gun is eventually a success and David moves onto considerably bigger things. At 17, in a quest to produce a renewable fuel source, he decides to build a model breeder reactor. With aluminum foil and duct tape. Remember, this is for his Eagle Scout. It isn't until David's Geiger counter shows an increase in radioactivity that he considers he might be placing others at risk of exposure. He takes his reactor core apart and hides pieces of it at his mother's house, his father's house, and the trunk of his car. A lucky (or unlucky, from David's point of view) investigative car stop by police uncovers some questionable and alarming items. Police suspect they have a bomber on their hands and call in the experts. The experts call in the EPA and Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and the Federal Radiological Emergency Response Plan is put into motion. (This plan was designed to take care of "any peacetime radiological emergency that has actual, potential, or perceived radiological consequences"-emergencies at nuclear facilities or while transporting radioactive materials.* And nuclear reactors built in suburban sheds by ambitious teenagers.) Go To Page: 1 2
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