Control Room 4, the early hours of the morning. Technicians are drinking vodka, dancing the kozachok and giving each other bear hugs. Senior turbine operator Vyacheslav Brazhnik suddenly rushes in, waving his arms wildly in a state of heightened panic.
BRAZHNIK: CHIEF-ENGINEER DYATLOV, IT'S A DISASTER!
ANATOLY DYATLOV: That's comrade Dyatlov, I think.
BRAZHNIK: IT'S A DI- Sorry?
DYATLOV: Call me comrade Dyatlov, shithead.
BRAZHNIK: ...But we only call each other comrade at party meetings.
Group supervisor Pyotr Palamarchuk swings round in his swivel chair.
PALAMARCHUK: He's right, chief-engineer. And in Hollywood movies, too.
DYATLOV: Who's in charge here?
BRAZHNIK AND PALAMARCHUK: [Saluting] You are, comrade Dyatlov.
DYATLOV: Right. Now, what the fuck's going on?
BRAZHNIK: Well, comrade, do you remember those power outage tests we did? When we attempted to develop a safety procedure allowing reactor water to keep circulating until the emergency generators kick in?
DYATLOV: I could hardly forget: we tried it three times. We're in the middle of a fourth test right now.
BRAZHNIK: And do you remember how each test took a whole minute for the coolant to circulate, running the risk of the reactor core overheating?
DYATLOV: 'Course I fucking do. Why are you telling me things I already know?
BRAZHNIK: Sorry, comrade, I... sort of had to mention that. [Winks to camera] Well, FYI the current test: it looks like there's been a teensy snagette...
Beat.
DYATLOV: Well, spit it out, then, you simpering twat. What's the problem?
BRAZHNIK: [Screams] THERE'S BEEN AN EXPLOSION IN THE REACTOR CHAMBER!
DYATLOV: Bullshit.
BRAZHNIK: IT'S TRUE! [Breathless] It's true... Oh, Maria, mother of Lenin: SAVE ME!
Dyatlov slaps him.
DYATLOV: Screw your fucking head back on, comrade. We're talking about Soviet engineering here: the finest in the world. Remember the R-7? Sputnik? Vostok? Salyut 1? The... [Thinks] Oh. Okay, look: if there is a problem - and I stress 'if ' - why don't you pop down to the reactor chamber and just give it a quick looksee, yeah?
BRAZHNIK: But... I've just come from there. I'm telling you, the reactor's KAPUT!
DYATLOV: What's the matter? Chicken-?
BRAZHNIK: You're the chief-engineer. Why don't you go down?
DYATLOV: Bollocks to that, mate. I'm staying put.
BRAZHNIK: Well if you are I am, too.
DYATLOV: Listen, either you go down there right now or your fat, sorry arse is on the next freight train to Siberia. It's your choice.
PALAMARCHUK: [Whispers] Er... we don't do that any more, comrade.
DYATLOV: What?
PALAMARCHUK: We don't do that any more. Perestroika, remember-?
DYATLOV: [Sighs] Fine. All right, how does 500 rubles sound?
BRAZHNIK: Do you really think I can be bought like that? As though the only reason I'd put my life on the line in this, the Ukrainian SSR's darkest hour, and with the lives of millions of people across Europe hanging in the balance, is for the sake of financial benefit? Is it so hard to believe that there is such a thing as basic human dignity? That people can act altruistically without their emotions being circumscribed by the cynicism of self-interest?
DYATLOV: Okay, 800 rubles.
BRAZHNIK: You're on.
