The 6 Most Reckless Uses of Radioactive Material

Now for those of you who don't know or haven't already guessed, caesium-137 is radioactive as balls. Remember that, because it comes up later.

The hospital had hired minimal security to try and keep people away, because somehow the removal of the potentially hazardous equipment was tied up in litigation. However, one day the guard called in sick to catch a showing of Herbie Goes Bananas, which proved to be the chink in the armor of their bulletproof anti-theft initiative.

Two scavengers named Roberto dos Santos Alves and Wagner Mota Pereira saw their opportunity and swooped in to steal whatever they could carry. "Whatever they could carry," as you can guess, turned out to be the caesium-137 radiotherapy unit, which they brought back home and promptly tore open like a Christmas present.

They removed the core and smashed it open, finding a blue glowing substance inside that mystified them. This was the caesium, and predictably, it poisoned the everloving shit out of both men, eventually causing internal damage, contact burns and the need for amputation. Luckily, they were able to take the exposed core to a scrapyard before any of that happened.

From the scrapyard, things only got worse. No one knew what the glowing substance was, outside of maybe Predator blood, so no one felt the need to handle it with anything resembling caution. The junkyard owner wanted to make a ring for his wife out of it, several people smeared it on their bodies like paint and a 6-year-old girl even wound up eating some of it, because that's what you do with a glowing blue mystery from a garbage dump.

Finally, after numerous people started getting frighteningly sick all at the same time, a local woman collected the substance and took it to a hospital to be examined, rightly suspecting that perhaps the fantastic powder of dreams was to blame. A visiting physicist detected the danger almost immediately.

All told, 250 people had been contaminated by the exposed material, four of whom received fatal doses and died. The people in charge of IGR were charged with criminal negligence for leaving the caesium unit essentially unguarded in a derelict building.

In March of 2002, a piece of cancer treatment machinery broke down at a hospital in Leeds, England. Because of the presence of radioactive material (and because those needy cancer patients wouldn't quit their bitching), it was decided that the machine was to be sent to a nuclear facility 130 miles away to be disposed of properly, because step one in disposing of wildly hazardous material is to parade it across the entire countryside.

A nuclear waste transport company, AEA Technology, was then commissioned to take it away. The machinery was put in a sealed container, driven 130 miles north, and unloaded at the nuclear disposal site of Sellafield on the Irish Sea to be dealt with by professionals. When the truck arrived, the receiving crew prepared to unload the container, only to find a nice little surprise -- the container wasn't sealed at all.

A plug to seal the radioactive machine in was somehow left off, and as a result, 130 miles of highway had been exposed to 100 to 1,000 times what is deemed a "very high" amount of gamma radiation.

After the cleanup, the crown court in Leeds said it was "pure good fortune" than no one was harmed or gained superpowers from the leak. Also written off as "lucky" was the fact that the leak was angled toward the ground, focusing the gamma radiation into what real, actual experts referred to as "a beam of radioactivity" directly into the earth. This was seen as better than if the "beam" had been pointing upward, where people's faces live.

Evidently deciding to roll the dice on flesh-eating mutant earthworms, British officials determined that AEA was indeed guilty of a colossal boner, but essentially called it a win since nobody melted. Because of the carelessness, AEA was eventually fined about a half a million dollars for making the English countryside glow in the dark.

Once everyone realized the sheer power of atomic energy, companies went a little nuts trying to shoehorn it into everyday life, the logic being that every activity could be made better and more efficient by the presence of spine-fusing radiation. For example, one of them came up with the idea to irradiate golf balls with cobalt-60, so that if you lost one in the rough somewhere, it could be located. With a Geiger counter.

Numerous advertisements were run for radioactive golf balls, with some even claiming that they would travel farther than regular balls (you may notice that by all accounts, this does not make sense). While the golf balls were not dangerous to humans unless they had constant exposure to them (like if you carried them around in your pocket all day on the golf course, but luckily nobody does that), the same can't be said for the atomic pacemaker.

Yep. Amazingly, doctors during the 1970s thought placing mini plutonium batteries in people's chests was a good thing. Gamma rays escaping the pacemaker would slightly irradiate the patient every year, and the U.S. government deems them such a hazard that when any person with a plutonium pacemaker dies, it has to be immediately removed and taken straight to the Los Alamos nuclear facility for destruction.

And then there was nuclear makeup.

During the early 20th century, the London based company Radior Co. specialized in radium-enriched cosmetics such as talcum powder, face powder, vanishing cream, soap and numerous other things women applied to their faces every day. After this company unsettlingly just disappeared around the 1920s, France picked up the nuclear baton with Tho-Radia products, which included all the powders and soaps from before while tossing lipstick into the mix.

Most people believed low radioactivity could kill germs, and while this is technically true, it is ignoring the larger truth that radioactivity kills everything. After taking an embarrassingly long time to figure this out, production was halted on radium-instilled beauty creams.

Understandably, the focus switched from painting your face with radioactive isotopes to painting your house with them, because houses don't get cancer. For example, after the Fukishima disaster in 2011, scientists combing Tokyo for radioactivity found alarming levels coming from an old woman's house. Inside, they found the source to be some old luminescent paint bottles in her basement, which were giving her the radioactive equivalent of a CAT scan every hour of every day. The paint was quickly disposed of, but because it was regularly produced, and because this is Japan, there may be tons more of it out there.

The waste included scores of dead animals experimented on by nuclear research facilities and 55-gallon drums of radioactive mystery. Representatives from the Atomic Energy Commission would occasionally drop by to review the amount of radioactivity on the ships to determine whether or not they should be cleaned before taking on another toxic load, because apparently that makes a fucking difference. Today the government estimates about 48,000 barrels of waste were dumped in the bay, but gallantly refuses to provide any kind of documentation as to what, specifically, that waste might be.

Similarly, at a disposal site in Idaho, buried nuclear waste containers would sometimes be exhumed by flooding, bobbing to the surface and challenging the long-held national belief that when you bury things or toss them into the sea, they cease to exist. Naturally, the government's response to the newly unearthed sludge was to break out the firearms and shoot at it until it sank again.

Then they realized the water in the area was now contaminated ("But how, damn it?"), so the topic of removing the waste altogether is currently being fiercely debated to the tune of millions of dollars in litigation.

Eventually, Handl began to worry that experiments intended to split the atom to pass the time might not be legal, which is typically a concern you address before anything explodes. So he did what anyone would do and called the police to check. Not wanting to trivialize his scientific pursuits, the police told him what he was doing was "pretty stupid" and immediately detained him to inspect his apartment for radioactivity.

When directly questioned about the safety of unleashing radiation in his home, Handl dismissively pointed out that he had a Geiger counter, which suggests that he doesn't fully understand exactly what a Geiger counter does. Regardless, the police determined that his house was clean and he was quickly released from custody. Handl shut down the blog that he had been keeping on his experiments and claimed he would be moving on to purely theoretical nuclear physics.

To test their measuring instruments, government scientists naturally decided to create their own radioactive clouds, which they did in the Pacific Northwest, in a place called Hanford, Washington, in 1944. Without telling anyone.

It didn't stop there. Later on in the war, the government seized the whole town and gave its residents 30 days to pack up and leave. The town's population was replaced with engineers and scientists, forming an arm of the Manhattan Project. Starting in 1944, over the next three years the Hanford nuclear plant released huge amounts of radioactive particles into the air, something in the neighborhood of hundreds of thousands of curies of iodine-131 (to compare, about 15 curies of iodine-131 were released during the Three Mile Island core meltdown).

Then came Operation Green Run. In December of 1949, the government took the filters in the stacks at the weapons plant in Hanford and just shut them the fuck off, releasing thousands more curies of radioactive material directly into the atmosphere and daring future Americans to even try to guess what the hell they thought this would accomplish.

When all this was declassified decades later, the people potentially affected by this radiation festival included not only the residents around Hanford in Washington but also folks in Idaho and Oregon, because clouds tend to move when anything resembling wind touches them. To top it all off, neither the exact number of test clouds released nor the identity of the person or people who authorized them are known for certain, which we feel just adds to the charm of being secretly irradiated.

Read more of Yosomono at his headquarters at the GaijinAss Web page or follow him on Twitter @GaijinAss. Other lists by Dustin Koski can be found at Toptenz.

For more catastrophes that shouldn't have happened, check out 6 Natural Disasters That Were Caused by Human Stupidity. Or learn about which ones are coming up in the queue in 6 Man-Made Natural Disasters Just Waiting to Happen.

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