Shownotes Transcript
Supervisor Ikuo Izawa stands at his desk in the dark control room, shining his flashlight over a series of blueprints. They show the inner workings of the reactors at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant. Right now, those reactors have no cooling water flowing through them. A dangerous situation. Without water, the reactors could easily overheat and melt down.
It's 6pm on March 11th, 2011. It's been a little more than two hours since a tsunami wiped out all electrical power at the plant. Izawa traces a finger across the blueprints. The pipes are like a labyrinth. "What about valve 13?" His deputy supervisor, Noboru Houma, shakes his head. "Too narrow. We need more water than that. Well, there's gotta be something."
Izawa wants to divert water from the plant's fire hydrant system into the pipes that cool the reactors. It's a tricky job. The fire hydrants and the cooling system run on completely different pipes. But after more scrutiny, Izawa sees a way to connect everything.
If we open these valves here, here, here, and here, we can get water flowing to the reactor, right? Homanauts. Yes. And we're making Reactor One the priority, right? We have to. It's already leaking radiation. Now it's just a matter of finding some volunteers, then.
This causes a murmur among the engineers. Normally they could open the valves by pushing a button from within the control room, but with the power out, that's impossible. They have to send people into the reactor one building so they can open the valves by hand.
Unfortunately, two workers just returned from reactor 1 an hour ago with bad news. They only got as far as the airlock before they had to turn back. The levels of radioactivity were too high for them to go any further. Inside the building itself, the radiation might be at lethal levels. But Izawa sees no other option. He has to send people inside. He quiets the men and asks for volunteers.
One hand shoots up. It's his fellow control room supervisor, Katsuaki Hirano. Hirano shouldn't even be here today. He had the day off for a medical procedure, but he fought his way over streets mangled by the earthquake to get here.
Izawa raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to?" "It's my duty. I know the plant better than anyone. Which means I might need your expertise here. If something bad happened to you… If we don't get water flowing through the reactor, something bad will happen. To all of us." Izawa considers this.
Hirano is his peer and his friend. He hates to put him in harm's way. They both know the symptoms of radiation sickness. You get weak and feel horribly nauseous. Many people vomit blood. It's torture to think of Hirano dying like that. But Izawa knows that Hirano is right. He is their best chance. Pick one more person to go with you, Hirano. And be careful.
Hirano chooses a young engineer to be his partner. Izawa follows them to the door, then watches them disappear down the hallway. Izawa has always loved reading about Japanese history and the code of the samurai, their sense of duty. He sees that same dedication in Hirano. He just hopes he's not sending his friend to a ghastly death.
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From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. On the afternoon of March 11th, 2011, a giant undersea earthquake sent a tsunami racing toward the east coast of Japan. The 43-foot surge of seawater flooded the Fukushima nuclear power plant, knocking out the electricity and destroying vital equipment.
That evening, the plant's engineers began scrambling to get water flowing through the reactors as quickly as possible. That water would help cool the reactor core, where a cluster of uranium rods was undergoing the process of fission. Without water to cool them, the rods would overheat and melt down, releasing dangerous radioactivity that would poison the surrounding land and sea.
The engineers would have to act quickly. Every hour that passed increased the risk of a meltdown that would rival the disaster at Chernobyl. This is Episode 2: Pressure. A few minutes after leaving the control room, Katsuaki Hirano and another plant worker are walking through the ruined, muddy grounds of the Fukushima power plant, approaching Reactor Building 1. They're both dressed in full-body radiation suits to shield their skin.
Underneath, they're wearing face masks and breathing through charcoal respirators. They'll have to move quickly and efficiently. Every minute they spend inside the reactor building increases their exposure to deadly radiation. He's confident, for the most part, but every so often, his stomach flutters with nerves. He has no idea what awaits him once they go inside.
At the entrance to the reactor building, Hirano and his partner swipe their keycards and enter an airlock. His Geiger counter immediately starts chattering. He's thankful for the radiation suit. It won't stop all exposure, but it's the best protection they have available. He types in his security code, steps inside, and clicks on his flashlight. The beam is tiny against the thick darkness, but he knows that the massive reactor is just right ahead.
It's 105 feet tall, 60 feet wide, and encased in two feet of concrete. Inside the reactor is the core, which is shaped like an upside-down light bulb. And in the bulb is a giant water tank and the uranium that drives the reactor. As he strides forward, Hirano can't see the core. All he can see is its hulking concrete exterior, which is as big as a 10-story building.
For all he knows, the core could melt down while he's standing here. But he pushes that thought away. In his gloved hand, he holds a list of valves that need opening. He turns to the junior engineer. "Let's start with 215." "What?" It's hard to hear with the masks and respirators. Perrono points to the list and they head off. They trudge up a few thin metal staircases to reach valve 215.
The staircases are so narrow, they can't walk side by side. It's hard work in the heavy radiation suits. Thankfully, opening the valve turns out to be a snap. Hirano twists the wheel and gives the junior engineer a thumbs up, but they can't afford to stand around and celebrate. Their Geiger counter is clicking rapidly, which means the radiation level here is high. Hirano points to the crumpled sheet in his hand. "318 is next. Let's go!"
Hirano lets the junior engineer do 318. It's harder to turn, but with a little force, it opens. They get valve 244A open without a hitch. That leaves just one valve, 818. By the time they reach it, Hirano is dripping in sweat. Reactor buildings are stuffy to begin with, but the bodysuit and face mask make things worse. Hirano is eager to open the last valve and get out of there.
But when they reach valve 818, the wheel is stuck. The junior engineer is exhausted after all the climbing. He motions at Gerano to take his place. Gerano has always been strong. Even so, he has to plant his feet and dig his heels in. Sweat pours down his forehead and drips onto his face mask.
Finally, he gets the wheel to turn. When he's done, Hirano stands there panting, his hands on his knees. But all four valves are open, which means there's now a path for water to get to the cooling system. Still, this is just step one. The pipeline is open, but the water isn't flowing through it yet. He points at the radiation detector again and motions for the junior engineer to hurry. It's time to get back to the control room.
Ikuo Izawa tries to keep the beam of his flashlight steady as an electrician works in front of him. Just before Hirano and his partner returned, a control room engineer remembered seeing a tiny beat-up generator in storage. It's big enough to power the control room's lights. Izawa sent a crew to retrieve it, and the electrician is now wiring it up. How much longer? Should be soon.
Just like that, the overhead lights pop on. They can finally see without flashlights, but the real problem is the instrument panel. The tiny generator isn't powerful enough to run its hundreds of dials and gauges. Without the panel, Izawa and his team have no window into what's actually happening inside the reactors. And until they do, they can't begin pumping in water.
For all they know, the water might actually destabilize the reactor and make the situation worse. Izawa stands up and addresses the control room. "I haven't heard any updates on when the generator trucks might be coming, so we need to scour our memories for any possible source of power. The clock is ticking." Noboru Houma raises his hand. "What about the buses?" "What about them?"
The plant owns a fleet of shuttle buses to bring in workers each day. Homa points out that the engines contain batteries. Maybe they could remove the batteries and wire them up to power the control panel. Izawa looks to his lead electrician. Will it work? Maybe, if the engines aren't waterlogged.
Izawa sighs, what he wouldn't give for a simple yes or no answer. It's always maybe, possibly, but that's the nature of a crisis. He tells the electrician to go find the shuttle buses and report back to him immediately. Battery power is their best option right now, until the generators arrive. The commander of a fleet of generator trucks watches one of them spin its tires in tsunami mud.
It's dark out, and the grounds of the Fukushima plant are impossible to navigate. But they've got to find a way. He yells to the driver. Back up and try it again. More to the left. But what about that pile of metal? It'll shred the tires. Just give it a shot. It's past 9.30 already. We have to hurry. While the truck backs up, the commander chews his nails and considers his options. He doesn't like any of them.
When plant superintendent Masao Yoshida requested the trucks, the commander thought this job would be easy: drive to the plant, hook up the truck's portable generators, and get power flowing to the station. But it's been a logistical nightmare. The plant has several switchboards the trucks can connect to. Unfortunately, they're all underwater. Except one. And they have to cross a mountain of mud to get to it.
The commander watches as the driver somehow manages to skirt past a pile of twisted metal blocking the truck's path. Now he has to try plowing through the mud again. Keep going! Don't stop! But the tires get caught. All the revving in the world won't help. The truck can't go any farther. The driver looks heartbroken, but the commander doesn't blame him.
Don't worry. You did your best. Now come on. We'll have to get the cable hooked up to the switchboard from here. But the driver shakes his head. It won't reach. It's not long enough. What if we hook up two cables back to back? They're not compatible. We'd need a special adapter.
The commander groans. Things are sinking from bad to worse. At that moment, his cell phone rings. It's Superintendent Yoshida, demanding an update. The commander explains about the flooded switchboards, getting stuck in the mud, and the cable not being long enough.
Yoshida finally interrupts. Then connect two cables together. We tried. We don't have the right adapter. You're the goddamn power company. How the hell do you not have the right adapter? Well, uh... If the plant melts down, it's your fault. The commander hears silence. Yoshida has hung up. He stares dumbly at his phone for a moment as the situation sinks in.
Then, he dials headquarters and prays to God they have the right adapter. Ikuo Izawa gets onto his hands and knees to unscrew a single small panel from the pale green wall of dials and gauges in the control room. Even after removing all four screws, it's still stuck. He jimmies it back and forth until it pops free. Then, he helps drag one of the heavy bus batteries over to the panel.
The generator trucks still haven't gotten any power flowing to the plant, so the bus batteries are their only option. Removing the panel has exposed the wiring of the instruments. Red and black cables snake everywhere. Now it's up to his electricians to get power running into them.
Izawa stands back to watch, trying not to distract them with questions. He has no idea how they can tell which wire goes to which instrument, but within minutes, the electricians get one of the gauges working. The bus batteries can't supply enough power for the whole array of instruments, but they can power up one or two gauges at a time and provide key readings. It will be tedious work to rewire the batteries and cables over and over, but for now, it's the best they can do.
Unfortunately, the first reading Izawa receives is a bad one. He peers at the newly powered gauge and shudders. This gauge measures the height of the water in the reactor core's tank. That water should be covering the uranium there by several feet. Instead, it's covering it by just eight inches. That means water has already begun boiling off. Thoughts race through Izawa's mind, none of them good.
To prevent corrosion, the uranium in the tank is coated with another metal: zirconium. And normally, when zirconium and water interact, there's no reaction. But if the water boils into steam, it's a different story. With steam, the zirconium splits the H2O molecules into two gases: hydrogen and oxygen, both of which are explosive.
All of which means one thing: Izawa cannot let the water in the tank drop any lower.
For the next hour, the electricians keep rewiring the batteries so they can read different gauges. They make sure to check the water level in the tank repeatedly. With each reading, Izawa jots the number down on a whiteboard, and the more he studies the numbers, the tighter the knot in his stomach gets. At first, the water level appears to be rising from 8 inches above the uranium to 17 inches, then 21, and 23.
That's good news. But this trend doesn't make any sense to Izawa. They still haven't been able to start pumping water into the reactor. Right now, there's no water flowing anywhere in the plant. His men can't even flush the toilets. So how can the water levels in the tank be rising? There's only one reasonable explanation. The gauge must be broken. They need to find another way to measure what's happening inside the reactor.
Izawa calls out to the lead electrician. Unwire those batteries. Get me the pressure reading in the Reactor 1 containment vessel. The electricians scramble. When they're finished, Izawa hurries over and watches the needle on the pressure gauge. It pops to life, swinging back and forth. When it comes to rest, his knees nearly give way beneath him. The containment vessel can withstand pressure up to 60 pounds per square inch before rupturing.
But this gauge is showing almost 90 pounds per square inch. Izawa can draw only one conclusion. The water in the tank has already boiled away to steam, causing the immense pressure buildup. Hydrogen gas has probably already started to accumulate. And if enough hydrogen builds up inside the reactor, it could explode. This episode is brought to you by The Jordan Harbinger Show.
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Plant Superintendent Masao Yoshida glances up at the clock in the Emergency Response Center and sees it's past midnight. It's now March 12th. The worst day of his life has ended, but he knows more hard days lie ahead. He dials Izawa in the control room for an update on Reactor 1.
"What's the news?" "The pressure is still rising. It's up to 120 psi. That's double the maximum safe pressure. It's in serious danger of rupturing." "So what would you recommend?" "Should we consider venting?" Yoshida curses under his breath. He was hoping to avoid this decision. Venting involves releasing radioactive steam from the reactor core into the atmosphere.
It's a terrible thing to do. Radioactive particles could land on crops. People could breathe it in. No nuclear plant in history has ever deliberately released radioactive steam. But the alternative is worse. If the pressure keeps building and the containment vessel bursts, far more radioactivity would escape into the environment. It would be a catastrophe. Yoshida wipes a trickle of sweat off his forehead.
Come up with a plan to vent, but wait for my orders. He hangs up, takes a deep breath, then dials his contact at the Prime Minister's office. If they're going to vent radioactive steam, the government needs to evacuate the towns near the plant. He gets the official on the phone and explains his thoughts. I'm looking at a map now. I'm thinking an evacuation zone of six miles? No, twelve miles at least.
Yoshida studies the map again and shakes his head. That will include too many towns. The evacuation will take five times longer. We need to consider people's safety. Twelve miles. They argue back and forth. Finally, the official agrees to discuss the matter with the prime minister. He seems reluctant. The prime minister has a famously bad temper. Yoshida asks him to hurry, then hangs up.
As soon as he does, an aide hands him a note. Yoshida expects more bad news, but for once, it's not. The Fukushima plant has its own fire trucks, whose engines were flooded and damaged by the tsunami. But the plant's fire crew has gotten the trucks working again.
And, not a moment too soon, the pressure in the reactor is so high that only high-pressure water pumps will be able to cool it. That's basically what fire trucks are: high-pressure pumps. Yoshida grabs his phone and calls the plant's fire chief to hash out a plan. A firefighter trudges forward through the rubble that covers the grounds of the Fukushima power plant. He slips on a patch of mud and twists his ankle.
He swears and hobbles back onto his feet as he hears his sergeant behind him. "You okay?" "I'm fine, sir. Let's keep looking." It's 3 AM, and a nearly moonless night. With the power out, it's impossible to see much, even with flashlights. There's so much wreckage that the firefighter barely recognizes the grounds he's worked at for years.
He turns to his sergeant. I think the hydrant's to the right. No, it's left, just beyond this rubble. The firefighter thinks that's wrong, but he can't say for sure, and he doesn't want to disobey his sergeant. But 20 minutes later, they still haven't found the hydrant. The sergeant is getting frustrated. Where the hell did it go?
The sergeant nods his approval.
The firefighter puts one foot on the pile and leans his weight forward. The pile is a mix of broken concrete and steel. It doesn't seem very stable, but they have to find the hydrant. So carefully, he begins climbing, and his twisted ankle throbs with every step. Near the top, he reaches for a bent I-beam to pull himself up. He instantly realizes it's a mistake.
The whole pile shifts under his feet, knocking him backwards. It's a landslide of wreckage. As he falls, chunks of concrete pound his legs and chest. A minute later, he hears shouting. Hey! Are you hurt? It's his sergeant. The firefighter can taste blood and feel bruises, but he doesn't think he broke any bones. He shakes his head.
"No, I'm okay, sir." "Good. Then get up and grab the hoses." "What do you mean?" "The hydrant was under that pile of rubble. Your little avalanche exposed it." The firefighter can only laugh. He drags himself up and tries to hurry. When they get the hoses hooked up, they can get water flowing. And for the first time in 12 hours, they can finally start cooling the reactor.
Inside the control room, Ikuo Izawa claps his hands together loudly. Everyone, wake up! I have an announcement! He's been letting people rest, but now it's time to work. He watches his crew jump awake, their eyes still thick with sleep. He holds up a set of blueprints. A few people start to stand, but Izawa motions at them to stay down. They're right next door to Reactor Building 1, and radiation has started leaking into the control room.
Their detectors indicate that for some reason, the radiation is lowest near the floor. While everyone else slept, Izawa spent hours poring over blueprints, searching for a way to vent excess steam from inside the reactor. It's been nearly half a day since they lost power, and every hour that passes only increases the chances of a rupture, maybe even an explosion. But now, Izawa has a plan, and he points to the blueprints and explains it.
Beneath the reactor core is a donut-shaped ring called the suppression chamber. Normally, water enters there from a pipe, then flows into the reactor core. But Izawa wants to reverse that flow, pull steam out of the core and into the suppression chamber. Then they can use pipes connected to the chamber to vent it outside.
With the power out, they need to send people into the building to open two vents by hand. Once they do that, the steam will be released. But Izawa knows this is all easier said than done. The vents are in completely different parts of the reactor building. One is high up and will require climbing to the top of the reactor. The other is in the basement near the suppression chamber, and both need to be open for the venting to succeed.
Given how high the radiation levels are inside the building, no one can be in there for more than a few minutes. That's not enough time to reach both the top and bottom vents. So Izawa will need two teams of two people each. Normally, Izawa could count on the fearless Katsuaki Hirano to go, but Hirano has already reached his limit for radiation exposure. So Izawa looks around the room and asks for volunteers.
Not a single hand goes up. He knows what they're thinking. Radiation levels are rising, even here in the control room. They must be catastrophically bad in the reactor building. This might be a suicide mission. Izawa thought he'd get a few brave souls, but he can't blame them for not stepping up. So he swallows hard, and before he can stop himself, he raises his own hand.
"I'll risk going, but I can't go alone. I'll need help." They all stare at him, but no one moves. Finally, a voice rises in the back. "I'll go." Izawa's heart leaps. It's an engineer named Stomu Oigawa, and next to him, engineer Katsuya Endo raises his hand as well. "Me too." Suddenly, there are a dozen volunteers. Izawa closes his eyes and breathes a deep sigh of relief.
Thank you, everyone. Before Izawa can start organizing the teams, Hirano grabs him by the elbow. What are you doing? You can't go yourself. You need to stay in the control room. But I said I'd go. I have to. Don't be an idiot. You're the leader. If something happened to you, morale would plummet. You can't risk it. Izawa sees that Hirano is right. As shift supervisor, it's his duty to command the control room.
He pulls Oigawa and Endo aside to apologize. All Izawa needs now is permission from Superintendent Yoshida to vent. But he hasn't heard from Yoshida for hours. He can't imagine what's taking so long.
Superintendent Yoshida stomps down a hallway in the emergency response center, nearly foaming with rage. Of all the crap he's had to deal with from the government, this is the worst. The prime minister himself, Naoto Kan, has just landed at the plant in his helicopter.
Khan is claiming he needs to see the crisis at the plant first hand in order to understand it. But Yoshida suspects that the prime minister is just coming here for a photo opportunity, so he can look brave for the media. Yoshida reaches a conference room and throws open the door.
When he sees Kan, Yoshida's blood starts boiling. Kan is wearing a protective suit labeled Fukushima. Yoshida specifically told the Prime Minister's office to bring their own gear since Fukushima doesn't have enough suits to spare. But they ignored him. Before he does anything rash, Yoshida takes a deep breath. Kan is still the Prime Minister. He deserves respect.
and the man has a terrible temper. Yelling at him might backfire. Yoshida has to be smart. Kahn sees Yoshida and starts berating him without even a hello. "What the hell's going on?" "We lost power. My men are working in the dark and dangerous." "Why the hell haven't you vented yet?" "We're preparing a suicide team for that very mission." At the words "suicide team", Kahn looks shocked and stops speaking.
Yoshida takes advantage of the silence to finish explaining the work the engineers have done so far. Kan seems to listen, but at the end, he returns to his original question. "So why haven't you vented? What's stopping you?" "To be candid, it's because your office screwed up." "That can't be! What do you mean?" Yoshida explains about the evacuation orders. He wanted six miles, but the Prime Minister's office insisted on twelve, which takes longer.
Worse, the office didn't get around to issuing an evacuation order until 5.45 a.m., five hours after Yoshida made his case. In fact, sir, I believe there are several towns that haven't even started evacuating because you haven't signed the orders. What the hell are you talking about? I signed all the orders before we came here.
At this, Khan's aide clears his throat and nervously produces an evacuation order. He apologizes and explains that he's been trying to get the Prime Minister's attention to sign it for an hour. Khan looks furious again. He snaps his fingers, demanding a pen, and scribbles his signature. Then he stands and looks at Yoshida. Thank you for your hospitality. You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to work.
Yoshida bows slightly to the Prime Minister, then turns and leaves. He can sense Khan's angry stare burning into his back as he goes. But Yoshida can't worry about that now. With the evacuation orders squared away, he needs to alert his workers in the control room to prepare for venting. He just hopes they haven't waited too long, and it isn't already too late.
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In the control room, Ikuo Izawa scrambles to answer his phone. He hears the voice of Superintendent Yoshida on the other end.
Those idiot politicians finally evacuated the towns. Proceed with venting. Right away, sir. Izawa hangs up and glances at the Mickey Mouse clock on his desk. It's just past 9 a.m. He sits there for a moment, his stomach lurching. Ever since the crisis started, he's been monitoring himself for signs of nervousness, like a racing heart and sweaty palms.
So far, he's stayed quite cool, but his palms are sweating now. The next hour could make or break the Fukushima power plant, and either save lives or cost them. But he can't waste time worrying. He rises from his desk and orders the first suicide team to gear up. Izawa lends a hand as Hoigawa and his partner pull on their radiation suits.
They also zip into silver fireproof suits and slip on air tanks so they can breathe. They look like astronauts ready to explore some alien world. Which, in a way, they are. Izawa has no idea what dangers they'll encounter inside the reactor building. He pats them on the back and they flash a thumbs up as they leave. Then he sits down at his desk and holds his head in his hands. All he can do now…
Engineer Stomo Oigawa clicks on his flashlight and enters Reactor Building 1. His partner trails nervously behind him. Inside, Oigawa sees the ten-story reactor looming in front of them. His flashlight beams also catch an eerie white mist. Is it dust? Steam? Something worse? He pushes the thought from his mind.
Oigawa hears a banging, like someone hammering iron. He realizes it's probably radioactive steam inside the pipes, clanging like an old radiator. In between clangs, their radiation detector chatters. The scale ranges from zero to one thousand, and Oigawa sees it creeping towards five hundred, more intense than he feared.
Oigawa is thankful that his team only has to open the upper vent. One team couldn't possibly get to both vents without serious radiation exposure. He and his fellow engineer head toward the stairs and start to climb. Two stories up, they walk along a corridor and find a metal ladder going straight up. There's a cage around the ladder to prevent people from falling. It makes for a tight fit with their suits and air tanks.
Every few rungs, Oigawa's tank clangs against the cage. He's frustrated at the slow progress, and things get no easier at the top. There, they find a catwalk just 20 inches wide. They grip the railing and inch forward.
They pass some numbered vents, and Oigawa yells to his partner, "What number are we looking for?" "67B!" The suits muffle their voices, so they have to shout to be heard. Oigawa flashes his beam over the metal plates near each vent. Finally, he spots 67B.
Wasting no time, he plants his feet and grabs the wheel. Nothing happens. He tries again, really digging in, but the vent is stuck. He turns to his partner. "I need help!" They each grip different parts of the wheel at the same time and turn with all of their might, grunting and straining. It takes a good ten seconds before the wheel finally starts to move.
Oigawa catches his breath and checks the gauge next to the vent. He's crestfallen to see that despite all their efforts, the vent is only 5% open. Keep going! They grip the wheel again. It turns a little more. 10%. Then 15%. 20%. By the end, Oigawa is left panting. But they've wrenched the vent open to 25%.
It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. He nods to his partner and they turn back for the control room. The first of the vents is open. Now it's up to the second team to finish the task.
Inside the Emergency Response Center, Superintendent Yoshida sits at his desk and scans his book of Buddhist sayings. He's trying to regain his composure after the tense meeting with the Prime Minister, and the prayers are helping center him. He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. When his phone rings a moment later, he feels much better, and it's just the voice he's hoping to hear.
Izawa in the control room. "Do you have an update for me?" "We got the first vent open." "So you can start to vent now?" "Not yet. Both vents have to be open in order to connect the two systems of pipes. I just sent off the second team." Yoshida's mood deflates a bit. They're only halfway there, but he thanks Izawa and tells him to call back as soon as the second valve is open.
Five minutes after leaving the control room, engineer Katsuya Endo enters Reactor Building 1. He clicks his flashlight on and steps forward into a mysterious white haze. Unlike the first team, Endo and his colleague are heading down to the basement, a more nerve-wracking assignment. The upper floors of the plant are better shielded from radiation by the thick concrete jacket of the containment vessel.
but the concrete doesn't extend down to the basement. Their radiation detector chatters as they descend the steps. It hovers around 600, with occasional spikes up to 900. Endo tries to ignore this as he navigates the stairs. They finally reach the basement with its high ceiling. They approach the suppression chamber, the giant donut-shaped ring surrounding the bottom of the reactor. It looms above them.
They climb up a ladder to a catwalk that runs above it. The vent they need to open is on the other side of the chamber. Endo takes the lead as they move forward along the catwalk. But as they get closer to the vent, Endo hears something ominous. It's his radiation detector. He glances down and his mouth hangs open in shock. The detector's needle is buried in the red, well past the device's limit.
The radiation is so intense here, it's off the scale. Endo glances up. They're less than 25 yards from the vent, but if they get there and the vent is stuck, they'll be fried with radiation while trying to get it open. He doesn't want to turn back, not when they're so close, but the clicks of his radiation detector have him frozen in terror.
Izawa paces in the control room. He's trying to stay focused, but he keeps glancing at the Mickey Mouse clock on his desk, counting the minutes until the second team returns. His mind leaps forward to the moment where they can vent some steam. It will be a huge relief to eliminate the risk of a rupture, even though the venting will bring risks of its own.
Just then, the door of the control room bursts open and the second team enters. Immediately, Izawa senses something is wrong. They've only been gone 15 minutes, which doesn't seem like long enough to complete the task. And unlike the first team, Endo and his partner don't strut in with confidence. In fact, they stumble and slump to the ground.
Everyone gathers around the two exhausted men. Izawa pushes his way to the front and helps Endo get his helmet and face mask off. "Endo? What happened?" "The radiation was too high." "What about the vent?" "We had to turn back, sir. I'm sorry. We failed." Izawa shuffles back to his desk and collapses in his chair, holding his head in his hands. Both vents needed to be open for this plan to work.
Now, the pressure in the reactor will push higher and higher. Fukushima is on the brink of becoming the next Chernobyl. This is episode two of our four-part series Meltdown at Fukushima. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend the books Meltdown by Yoichi Funabashi
On the Brink by Ryusho Kadota and Station Blackout by Charles Casto.
I'm your host, Mike Corey. Sam Keen wrote this episode. Our editor is Sean Raviv. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Rob Schielega. Additional research and script consulting by Simon Campbell. Produced by Matt Almos and Emily Frost. Our managing producer is Tonja Thigpen. Our senior producer is Andy Herman.
Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery. Hey, it's Guy Raz here, host of How I Built This, a podcast that gives you a front row seat to how some of the best known companies in the world were built.
In a new weekly series we've launched called Advice Line, I'm joined by some legendary founders and together we talk to entrepreneurs in every industry to help tackle their roadblocks in real time. Everybody buys on feeling, Guy, like everybody. So if you don't give them the feeling that they're looking for, they're not going to buy. A lot of times founders will go outside of themselves to build a story. And
and you can't replicate heart. You know, I think we all have a little bit of imposter syndrome, which isn't the worst thing in the world because it doesn't allow you to get overconfident and think that you're invincible. Check out the advice line by following How I Built This on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to How I Built This early and ad-free right now on Wondery+.