Israel’s Negev Nuclear Research Center is located in the northeastern city of Dimona. The structure of the center has remained basically unchanged for decades. However, an international organization’s fissile material expert group discovered large-scale construction activities through commercial satellite photos last week. . The photo shows that the construction area is next to the aging reactor of the Negev Nuclear Research Center. It is about 150 meters long, 60 meters wide, and can reach several floors in depth. Satellite images also show that the construction project may have started in 2019. According to the report, the purpose of the construction project is not yet clear, and the Israeli government has not yet commented on the matter. Analysts have given different opinions on the use of the infrastructure. Some people think that the infrastructure here is to prepare for the scrapping of the existing nuclear reactors here, while others think that Israel may want to increase the output of tritium.
The Associated Press stated that Israel neither admits nor denies possessing nuclear weapons, but experts believe that the country possesses the raw materials that can make 80 nuclear bombs. Some analysts also said that Israel has recently violently approved Iran’s manufacturing of nuclear weapons, which is intended to divert attention from the outside world about its expansion of nuclear facilities.
before noon appeared Robert outside edge of the forest with his Lord to help him carry home the painting materials. Veraguth had finished a new study that he wanted to carry himself. He now knew exactly how the picture had to be and now thought he would force it in a few days.
“Tomorrow morning we will move out again,” he shouted happily and winked with tired eyes at the dazzling midday world.
Robert laboriously unbuttoned his skirt and pulled a piece of paper from his breast pocket. It was a somewhat wrinkled Kuwert without any inscription.
“I should hand that in.”
“From the medical councilor. He asked for you at ten o’clock; but he said I couldn’t take you away from work. ”
“It is good. Forward!”
The servant ran ahead with rucksack, field chair and easel, Veraguth stopped and opened the door with a hint of unpleasant news the letter. It only contained the medical council’s card with the fleeting and indistinctly scrawled pencil note: “Please come to me in the afternoon, I want to speak to you about Pierre. His malaise is less of a concern than I wanted to tell your wife. Don’t frighten them with useless concerns before we’ve talked. ”
He forcibly suppressed the horror that tried to take his breath away, he stood still and read the note twice more carefully. “Less harmless than I wanted to tell your wife!” There sat the enemy. His wife was by no means so frail or nervous that she had to be treated with such consideration for a little thing. So it was bad, it was dangerous, Pierre could die! But there was again “malaise”, that sounded so harmless. And then “useless concerns”! No, at least it wasn’t that bad. Maybe something contagious, a childhood disease. Maybe wish the doctor to isolate him, to put him in a clinic?
He thought about it and became calmer. He walked slowly down the hill and homeward the hot dirt road. In any case, he wanted to do what the doctor asked and not let his wife see anything.
At home, however, he became impatient. Before he had saved his picture and washed himself, he ran into the house – he leaned the wet picture against the wall in the stairwell – and stepped quietly into Pierre’s room. His wife was inside.
He bent down to the boy and kissed his hair.
“Good afternoon, Pierre. How are you?”
Pierre smiled weakly. Immediately afterwards he began to sniff with trembling nostrils and shouted: “No, no, go away! You smell so bad! ”
Veraguth obediently stepped aside.
“It’s just turpentine, my boy. Papa hasn’t even washed because he wanted to see you right away. Now I’ll go right away and change my clothes, then I’ll come back to you. Is that right? ”
He went and took the picture with him on the way, and the little one’s plaintive voice echoed in him.
At table he heard what the doctor had said and was delighted to hear that Pierre had eaten and had not vomited again. But he remained excited and insecure and struggled to keep a conversation with Albert going.
Then he sat by Pierre’s bed for half an hour, who lay quietly and only occasionally reached for his forehead as if in pain. With fearful love he looked at the narrow mouth, which looked sick and slack, and the pretty, pale forehead, which now had a small vertical crease between the eyes, a morbid but childishly soft and mobile crease that would disappear again completely if Pierre would be healthy again. And he should get well again – even if it would then be doubly painful to go away and leave him. He should continue to grow in his delicacy and fair boyhood and breathe like a flower in the sun, even if he never saw him and would have said goodbye to him. He was to become healthy and a beautiful, sunny person in whom the most tender and purest of his father’s being lived on.
While he was sitting by the child’s bed, he began to suspect how much bitter he could still savor until all of this was behind him. His lips twitched and his heart struggled against the sting, but deep beneath all suffering and fear he felt his decision to stand hard and indestructible. That was okay, no pain and no love touched it anymore. But it was still up to him to experience this last time and not to evade any suffering, and he was ready to drink the mug completely, because for the last few days he had felt unmistakably that only through this dark gate was there a way to life for him led. If he was cowardly now, if he fled now and saved himself pain, then he took mud and poison with him and never came into the pure, holy freedom for which he longed and for which he was willing to suffer every torment.
Well, first of all he had to talk to the doctor. He got up, nodded tenderly to Pierre, and went out. It occurred to him to let Albert drive him, and he went to his room for the first time that summer. He knocked hard on the door.
Albert was reading by the window. He got up quickly and met his father in surprise.
“I have a small request for you, Albert. Can you take me into town quickly in the car? – Yes? That is pretty. So be so good and help hitch up right away, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Do you have a cigarette? ”
“Yes, thank you. Now I want to check on the horses right away. ”
Soon they were sitting in the carriage, Albert driving on the box, and when Veraguth stopped him on a street corner in town and said goodbye, he said another word of appreciation to him.
“Thank you very much. You have made progress and now you have the nags very well in hand. Well goodbye, I’ll go back later on foot. ”
He walked quickly away on the hot city street. The medical council lived in a quiet, elegant area, there was hardly anyone out there at this time of day. A blasting truck drove along sleepily and two little boys ran after it, holding their hands in the thin rain of drops and laughing and splashing each other on their heated faces. The bored piano playing of a practicing student sounded from an open ground floor window. Veraguth had always had a deep aversion to inanimate city streets, especially in summer; they reminded him of his early years, when he had lived in cheap, boring rooms on such streets, with the smell of coffee and kitchen on the stairs and looking at the skylights and carpet racks and unattractive, ridiculously small gardens.
He was greeted by a discreet doctor’s odor in the corridor between large gold-framed pictures and large carpets, and a young girl in the long, snow-white nurse’s apron took his card from him. She first led him into the waiting room where several women and a young man sat quietly and pressed on plush armchairs and stared at magazines, then at his request she took him to another room, where many years of a medical journal were stacked in large tied bundles and where he hardly looked around when the girl entered again and led him to the medical council.
There he sat in a large leather chair in the midst of sparkling cleanliness and practicality, and across from the desk sat the doctor, small and tight; It was quiet in the high room, only a small, shiny clock made of glass and brass, clinking brightly, paced its rhythmic, sharp pace.
“Yes, I don’t really like your boy, dear master. Have you not noticed disturbances in him for a long time, for example headache, tiredness, reluctance to play and the like? – Only recently? And has he been so sensitive for a long time? Against noise and bright light? Against odors? – so? He liked the smell of paint do not suffer in the studio! Yes, that’s true for the other. ”
He asked a lot, and Veraguth answered with a slight numbness, with a sense of fearful attention and secret admiration for his gently polite, impeccably precise manner of speaking.
Then the questions came slowly and sporadically, and finally there was a long pause, the silence hung like a cloud in the room, only interrupted by the sharp, sharp clock of the little flirtatious clock.
Veraguth wiped the sweat from his brow. He felt that it was now time to find out the truth, and as the doctor sat there like a stone and was silent, the horror overwhelmed him with painful paralysis. He rolled his head as if he was choking on the collar of his shirt, and finally he uttered, “Is it that bad?”
The medical council looked up. He looked over at him from the yellow, worked face with a pale look and nodded his head.
“Yes, unfortunately. It’s bad, Mr. Veraguth. ”
He never took his eyes off him. Waiting and attentive, he watched the painter turn pale and drop his hands. He saw the firm, bony face grow weak and helpless, saw the mouth lose its sharp tension and the eyes wander blindly. He saw his mouth curl and quiver slightly, and saw the eyelids droop over his eyes like someone who had passed out. He watched and waited. And then he saw the painter’s mouth tightening, his eyes revived, only the deep pallor remained. He saw that the painter was ready to hear him.
“What is it, doctor? You don’t need to spare me, just talk. – You don’t think Pierre has to die, do you? ”
Now the medical council moved a little closer with his chair. He spoke very softly, but sharply and clearly.
“Nobody can say that. But if I’m not completely mistaken, the little one is very dangerously ill. ”
Veraguth looked him in the eye.
“Does he have to die? I want to know if you think he’s going to die. You understand – I want to know. ”
Without knowing it, the painter stood up and stepped forward as if threatening. The doctor put his hand on his arm, he winced and immediately sank back into the armchair as if ashamed.
“There’s no point in talking like that,” the medical council began again. “We don’t decide about life and death, because we doctors ourselves are surprised every day. For us every sick person, as long as he or she is still breathing, must be a hope, you know. Where else would we be! ”
Veraguth nodded patiently and just asked, “So what is it?”
The doctor coughed briefly.
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s meningitis.”
Veraguth sat still and repeated the word softly. Then he got up and held out his hand to the doctor.
“So meningitis,” he said, and spoke very slowly and carefully because his mouth was trembling as if it was very cold. “Is that even curable?”
“Everything is curable, Mr. Veraguth. Some lay down with a toothache and die after a few days, others have all the symptoms of the most serious illness and get away with it. ”
“Yes / Yes. And get away with it! I want to go now, Doctor. You went to great lengths with me. But meningitis is not curable? ”
“Dear Sir …”
“Forgive me. Perhaps you have already treated other children with this condition? Yes? Can you see it! – Are these children still alive? ”
The medical council was silent.
“Maybe two of them are still alive, or one?”
There was no answer.
The doctor, unwillingly, turned to the desk and opened a compartment.
“Don’t throw the gun in the grain like that!” He said in a different tone. “We don’t know whether your child will get away with it. It is in danger and we must help it as much as we can. We all have to help him, you see, and so do you. I need her. – – I’ll come out again in the evening. Just in case, I’ll give you some sleeping powder here, maybe you can use it yourself. And now you hear: the little one must be completely at rest and should be fed as strong as possible. That is the main thing. Do you want to think about it. ”
“Certainly. I won’t forget anything. ”
“If he is in pain or becomes very restless, a tepid bath or compress can help. Do you have an ice pack? I will bring one. You have ice cream outside, don’t you? All right then. – Let us hope, Mr. Veraguth! It is not now that one of us should be discouraged; we must all be on our toes. Not true?”
He drew confidence from Veraguth’s gesture and accompanied him out.
“Do you want my car? I don’t need it again until five o’clock. ”
“Thank you, I’ll walk.”
He went down the street, which was empty as before. The unhappy student music still sounded out of that open window. He looked at his watch, it had only been half an hour. He walked slowly on, street by street, halfway through the city. He was afraid to leave her. In here, in this stupid, poor pile of houses, there was the smell of medicine and illness, there was hardship and fear and death at home, there a hundred cheerless, languishing streets carried all the heaviness with them and one was not alone. But outside, it seemed to him, under trees and a clear sky, between the ringing of scythes and the chirping of crickets, the thought of all this must be much more terrible, much more senseless, much more desperate.
It was evening when he came home dusty and dead tired. The doctor had already been there, but Frau Adele was calm and didn’t seem to know anything yet.
During the evening meal, Veraguth talked to Albert about the horses. He kept finding something to say, and Albert responded to it. They saw that Papa was very tired, nothing else. But he kept thinking with almost sneering anger: “I could have death in my eyes and you wouldn’t notice anything! This is my wife and this is my son! And Pierre is dying! ”So he thought in a sad cycle, while with a wooden tongue he formed words that no one was interested in. And then there was another thought: “That’s right! So I want to drink up my suffering on my own until the last bitter drop is exhausted. So I want to sit and pretend and watch my poor little one die. And if I’m still alive then there is nothing that binds me and nothing that can hurt me,
With dark lust he felt the pain in his own Hearts burn, wild and unbearable, but pure and great, as he had felt nothing and never felt, and before the divine flame he saw his small, unhappy, insincere and deformed life sinking worthlessly, no longer worth a thought or even reproach .
So he sat in the half-darkened sickroom with the boy for one more evening, and so he lay a burning sleepless night, devoted to his devouring misery with fervor, hoping and desiring nothing but to be consumed by this fire and burned into it until the last twitching one Fiber. He understood that it had to be that way, that he had to see the dearest and best and purest things that he possessed, give away and see die.