Plutonium, Photographs, and You: a true story
Rachel "Uncle Sam wants me!" Romond

We had some really rockin’ pictures of the New Year’s concert at Rusty’s Surf Ranch. I know they were good because I took them before everyone (including me) got drunk. You’re probably wondering where they are. I’d actually like to know the same thing.

The guy at the photo place said they couldn’t possibly be lost. I know that. They’re not lost. The government has them. See, I’m jinxed. The US government knows about me and has its Eye on me. Apparently, I am a Risk to National Security.^TM

Two summers ago, I worked at Los Alamos National Lab in New Mexico. In addition to being the place where Oppenheimer & Co. built the bomb, it’s where most of Uncle Sam’s nukes are stored and maintained. They call it something unthreatening and PC like "stockpile stewardship", but basically they make sure the 30-year-old bombs will go off if needed. Don’t ask me how. I asked and they wouldn’t tell me. Anyway, I had NOTHING to do with that. I played with magnets and soldered stuff for two months.

Now I’m a photographer and New Mexico is the most gorgeous place on Earth, so what do you think I did? Of course I took a picture. I took lots of pictures.

So there I was at 10pm, on the road outside my building, taking time exposures of the moonlit desert. I had my Big Ass Camera on my Industrial Grade Tripod, cable release in hand, sitting on the trunk of my car waiting for the 20 minutes to go by. Wonderful. Gorgeous. Silent. Except for the sound of the Lab Security truck swishing past every sixteen minutes. Except for the sound of the Lab Security truck slowing down, stopping behind me. Doors opening, slamming shut. Two large, well built men making their way toward me.

Big black-clad guy: "Evening, miss."

Me: "Hi there."

Other guy: "What are you doing?"

Me: "I’m taking a picture of the valley. It’s so gorgeous."

"It is, but we’re going to have to ask you to pack up and leave here."

Why would they care about me? In my best ‘really officer I didn’t know I was driving 54 in a school zone’ voice: "Umm, okay, can I ask why?"

"You need written permission to photograph here."

"Written permission to photograph New Mexico?"

"This is government property."

"But I’m a lab employee. You probably have my entire life on file."

"Doesn’t matter. You need to leave."

I looked at the valley, the timer on my camera. Three minutes to go. Shit. At this point I noticed that the pickup had a gun rack on the inside back window. Oh my, the gunrack had guns. M16s. "Sure! Well, have a nice evening!"

So I tripped the shutter early, packed up my stuff and left very calmly, driving a very legal speed. The next day I found out that I had been just down the road from the parking lot for the plutonium storage facility. How was I supposed to know that? That lot could have been for anyone, and the plutonium was IN a MESA!

When I got back to Los Angeles, I took my film in to be developed and have contact sheets printed. A week went by, two weeks, three. It does NOT take three weeks to print contact sheets. I went back to the store, and asked for my pictures. They thought I had already picked them up. In fact, there was no record of them at all. Hmmmm…

The exact same thing has happened with the New Years concert pictures. Different store, different film, different camera, same photographer. The guy at the store remembers taking the order, but doesn’t seem to remember much after that. So there you have it. Apparently people playing music and dancing at the Red Elvises’ millenium concert is a security risk and "never happened." I suspect foul deeds. I suspect a cover-up. I suspect The United States Government. J’accuse!

So I publicly apologize for taking my own pictures in to be developed. Next time we’ll get a proxy to make the drop. The worst thing about it is that those were some really good shots. If this doesn’t get fixed soon I’m gonna have to call in Fox Mulder.