Gamma Rays and Word Plays: Understanding Courage and Fear

It was another day in Abu Dhabi, and the world seemed on fire as temperatures rose to blistering levels. Throughout the campus, gazebos were crowded and buildings were full as people hid from the sun’s merciless rays.

As I stood transfixed on the open platform of the workshop, I could feel the mounting tension in the air. But none of the engineers cared about the heat advisory notice, and none of us cared that people were passing out from exhaustion or heat strokes. It was our first serious day as oilfield engineers, and everyone on that platform could care less about the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. We were dealing with something far more dangerous—gamma radiation.

Fun fact: Gamma Rays were responsible for turning Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk.

Rendhi, an Indonesian friend I had met on my first day in the United Arab Emirates, was to take the lead.

The objective seemed simple enough: secure the source using an elongated handling tool (that looks like a giant lowercase letter ‘t’) and insert it into the equipment to be sent one thousand feet underground. The tricky part was to not take too long because the source was live and dangerous. ^[1]

I anxiously observed alongside Rahul, an Indian friend I had met the second day of training. While we were a comfortable ten feet away from the radioactive source, Rendhi stood right next to it. ^[2]

Rendhi moved into position and began opening the shielded container holding the source. Silence swept across the platform as he gently opened the lock and released the metal chains. Suddenly, Rahul flashed a mischievous smile.

“Did you know your name means prostitute in my language?” Rahul asked Rendhi. In his Indian accent, it sounded like “Deed jew nooOHH? Yoruh nayem means pah-roast-deet-doot en my languitch?”

Rendhi turned back with widened eyes. “What?! Nooo!…Really?!”

“You didn’t know? Are you seriously [sic]?” asked Rahul.

“Stop! My name does not mean prostitute!”

“In my language it does!” Rahul continued, “Is this your secret life? How much do you charge per—”

“Rahul, shut your face,” I asserted, “he’s handling radiation with the tool, you tool.”

“But that’s his name! It’s Oakhaaaay,” Rahul said, “…and YOU are the thool.”

“Thool” I mimicked.

“Are you seriously?! My accent is funny to you?”

“About as much as your face,” I deadpanned, turning back towards Rendhi.

I checked my phone to see that two minutes had passed. As I observed Rendhi trying to remove the source, I noticed Rahul eating a banana from the corner of my eye. “Rahul, he’s struggling. Is there something we can do?”

Rahul muffled words through his stuffed face. “He should learn to do it *gulp* on his own.”

I shook my head. “Didn’t help that you said his name meant prostitute.”

“Doood, I was joking!” Rahul threw the banana peel at a trashcan—and missed. It was two feet away.

I winced to shield my eyes from the sun’s blinding rays, only barely noticing that our uniforms were drenched in sweat. “So, it doesn’t mean prostitute?”

“No. It ABSOLUTELY means prostitute. But I was just saying it to lighten the mood. It’s stressful and hot.”

Three minutes passed, and my heart rate accelerated, pounding so fiercely I could feel it in my palms. “Rahul, systemwide radiation damage happens around 30 minutes of exposure.” My eyes returned to Rendhi. He had finally secured the source. “But how long does it take to harm just a little?”

“I don’t know.” Rahul’s eyebrows narrowed as his calm façade slowly faded away. “Ten minutes?”

I paced back and forth as Rendhi slowly raised the source out of the container. “Hmm, the source is really near his body right now. And he isn’t fully extending the handling tool, so maybe we have even less—”

“Doood! It’s near his groin! How can a prostitute have a radioactive groin!”

“Rahul, this is not the time for jokes. That’s not what I—.”

My gaze returned to Rendhi  as he struggled to insert the source into the equipment. I glanced at my phone once more. Four minutes.

“Shit!” Rendhi yelled. His quivering arms repeatedly missed the insertion point.

Another minute passed, and I turned to Rahul for suggestions. His gaze met mine as he bit his lips and shrugged.

“Oh! Got it!” Rendhi said, inserting the source.

A moment of relief swept across the platform as I removed my hardhat and hunched over, breathing a sigh of relief.

Mere seconds later, Rahul proceeded to furiously tap on my shoulder. “Uh…Ace…doood.”

I looked up and recognized a cylindrical object rolling slowly on the ground. For a couple inches, it moved at a snail’s pace, finally stopping at Rendhi’s feet.

The source had fallen out. Naturally, I expected Rendhi to calmly assess the situation.

“OHHHH, SHIIIIIIT!” Rendhi screamed in panic.

Understandable, but not exactly the response I had hoped for. I retrieved my hardhat and rushed forward.

“Oh, man. Doood, wait.” Rahul said.

I grabbed the handling tool from Rendhi. “Listen, Rahul. If he becomes the Indonesian Hulk, the first thing he’ll smash will be you—for telling him his name means prostitute.”

Rahul threw both hands in the air. “It was a joke!”

“There is an Indonesian Hulk?” Rendhi asked.

“What?…Sure. Step back. It’s cool. I got this,” I said, securing the fallen source.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ace” Rhendi said, smiling as he backed off towards Rahul.

The truth was I did not know much better. I had entirely faked my confidence and was not sure what to do next. I didn’t think we would actually work with real radiation. Real gamma rays! How the hell did they even get this stuff?

And we couldn’t see most of what we were doing. Once in position, the handling tool blocked most of the view. The process of removing the source involved jamming the tool into the container and feeling out whether or not the source was secured based on how the tool moved slightly deeper. And inserting it into the equipment was dependent on whether or not we physically felt that it was pushed in far enough. We had to feel everything out.

And I felt completely screwed. Why did it fall out? What should I even do?

I placed the source back into the container and stood there for a moment, wondering if I should just close it and walk away. I could turn in my resignation letter and let someone else deal with all of this—the heat, the long hours, the dangerous heavy equipment, the radiation, and whatever else. All of it. Out of my life—forever.

I briefly thought of a simpler life. I could get a nice office job. It would be safe—secure, too. No heat. No unnecessary excitement. No potentially painful deaths. This idea was very appealing to me. It reminded me of a life once lived—one consisting of staying inside to read, watch movies, and play video games. Those were simpler times. Going outside was a chore. Socializing was intimidating. Talking to girls? Only if they were not going to destroy my self-esteem—so, basically, almost never.

So, what the hell was I doing all the way in the United Arab Emirates, sweating in the sun, and staring down a radioactive gamma-ray source? Why did I even apply for this job? It was insane. I felt a strong yearning to just leave and never come back.

“I’m such a coward,” I sighed to myself.

There was a deep sadness in that statement. Once more, I would let fear dictate my life. Once more, I would give up. Once more, I would lose. But it seemed so reasonable this time. This was when it would make the most sense. It was the most logical fear I ever felt. The container literally had the skull and crossbones logo on it.

I stared intently at the radioactive source for the first time. It resembled a gray metallic cylinder. I noticed how harmless it appeared. If I showed it to anyone else, no one would be the wiser. And no one would be afraid. People would think I was crazy to be afraid of something that appeared so harmless. They would give me the same look I had known my whole life. The eyebrows would narrow, and the chin would raise as eyes glazed over, often times rolling—a disapproving look reserved for those who expressed fears that seemed unreasonable to anyone else.

Why was it always so simple and easy for everyone else looking in? And why was it always so hard for me? Why did I always run away? Would I do so again? As I stood there, I thought about why I even feared things that were not truly fearsome—doing anything overly stressful, standing up for what I believed in, or socializing. As I stared at the cylindrical source, I could see for the first time how my irrational fears appeared to the world—in the form of a harmless object. All other times, the object seemed dangerous only to me. This was the one time it actually was, and I was completely at peace. “It’s all in your fucking head,” I whispered to myself.

It turns out that courage is a uniquely complex emotion. Can someone show courage when enveloped by fear?  That is the only time they can. For courage to be able to manifest itself, fear must be present. The more afraid you are, the more courageous you can be.  But you must seize the moment because courage must move in tandem with fear. When left alone, the fear will move on its own and consume everything.

And I couldn’t it consume me again, so I seized the moment of courage and began securing the source once more—this time with the intent to finish the job. “If I die, I’m going to be SO PISSED OFF!”

“You’re not going to die doood. Like, one organ failure—max!” Rahul helpfully said.

Rendhi scolded him. “Man! He needs all of his organs!”

“Okay! My bad! So, like, no organ failure. Just diarrhea and dizziness or something—max!”

“Your IQ is like 10, Rahul—max!” I replied.

I twisted the handle slowly and finally felt the tool sink into the container—a sign that the source was secured. As Rahul and Rendhi bantered in the distance, I slowly removed the source. Once the source emerged, all sounds were muffled to my focused mind. Although I could not make out the words in the distance, I was pretty sure there was a lot of cursing. When I briefly glanced back, I could have sworn I saw Rahul extend two middle fingers in Rendhi’s direction.

I raised the source and aimed it at the equipment, pondering for a moment why it fell out in the first place. The three of us must have been doing stupid crap when this issue was being explained in class. We were always doing stupid crap. I maintained composure and scanned my memories for helpful clues. The main thing I could vaguely remember was the instructor waving three fingers in the air as he spoke.

Three o’clock. The three o’clock position. “Guys, three o’clock right?!” I yelled.

“Doood! It’s like 5 pm!” I could hear Rahul again as my mind regained clarity. Helpful as ever.

I pressed the source against the insertion point and slowly twisted it clockwise. Click. The source sank deeper inwards as I slowly loosened the handling tool, holding my breath. I was certain it would not fall, but I only sighed in relief once Rendhi rushed forward and successfully sealed it in.

“I think we should start paying more attention in class,” Rendhi said, closing the latch and twisting the screws.

“You’re right. At least one of us has to pay attention while the other two are doing stupid crap. How long did I take?”

“A little over three minutes, I think!”

It was the longest three minutes I had ever felt. I walked to the workshop break room as I gathered my thoughts.

I once believed courage needed to replace fear. But fear cannot simply be replaced, because the two emotions must coexist. Believing that courage and fear are independent emotions can hold you back in life, because you will feel that you need to be fearless when fearlessness is merely an illusion. Fearlessness is not courage, and something resembling fearlessness is merely due to an unwavering courage conquering the fear. And a lack of fear at all is simply apathy, not courage. Understanding this allows you to feel less helpless, comforted by the thought that fear simultaneously allows you to summon courage.

In hindsight, everything seemed so obvious, as if it was common knowledge. I’m amazed that I missed it. Perhaps it is because fear is the emotion that gains momentum as it emerges first. As an emotion integral to survival, fear is less likely to get you killed. It will gear you towards a mediocre and excessively safe life, but at least it is a life you get to keep.

Rahul stole an orange Capri Sun from the workshop fridge and sat down beside me. “Actually, Rendhi isn’t exactly how you say prostitute in my language.”

I stole a Capri Sun for myself. “What?…I don’t understand…Why did you—”

“Prostitute in my language is actually pronounced randee. I was just messing with him. I was nervous, too, doood. Had to get my mind off the danger. HAHAHA. It’s oakhaaaay.”

I chuckled and began sipping my drink. “Yeah. Everything will be okay.”

[1] Many rock formations in the Earth contain traces of radiation. The gamma radiation interacts with this natural radiation to provide valuable data.
[2] Since radiation decreased in intensity based on the square of the distance, we were receiving 1/100^th of the dosage Rendhi was receiving (since we were 10 feet away as opposed to 1 foot).