All language subtitles for 8EC1C174AB2742583A212CD3514DDF28_eng

The kingdom of matter
stores it treasures

on my many levels.

Until recently, we thought
there was only one.

We had no idea
there were others.

When we strike a match, a
chemical reaction liberates

energy stored in the molecules.

Old chemical bonds break
and new ones are forged.

Now, the adjacent molecules
begin to move faster and the

temperature increases.

Soon, the process
becomes self-propagated,

a kind of chain reaction.

The energy represented
by a flame has been locked,

perhaps for many years, in
chemical bonds between atoms.

Mediated by the electrons
that revolved around their core.

When we make a fire,

we release this hidden
chemical energy.

But there is a deeper
level of matter that

houses another kind of energy.

Inside the heart of
the atom, its nucleus.

This hidden treasure was
forged billions of years ago

in distant stellar furnaces.

Long before Earth was formed.

It's what powers the stars.

Wresting this
knowledge from nature

is a cosmic rite of passage.

The beings of any possible
world clever enough to travel

this deep into nature's
labyrinth better take care.

The secret of starlight
is nothing to fool with.

Like fire, it can bring a
civilization to life and it

can burn it to the ground.

What is an atom?

What are they made of?

How are they joined together?

How could something
as small as an atom

contain so much power?

Where do atoms come from?

The same place we do.

When we seek
the origin of atoms,

we are searching for
our own beginnings.

This quest takes us to the
depths of space and time.

I want to tell you
a tale of two atoms.

Come with me.

Long ago, before
there was an Earth,

there was a wisp
of cold thin gas.

It was made of
the simplest atoms.

And they were gravitationally
attracted to one another.

So, the cloud grew.

The atoms contained small,

but heavy particles
in their nuclei.

The hydrogen had protons,
the helium had neutrons as well.

They both had a
skittering veil of electrons

in orbit around them.

The atoms in the interior of
the cloud moved ever faster

as gravity pulled them
ever closer together.

Until the whole thing
collapsed in on itself.

This collapse raised
the temperature so high,

that the cloud became
a natural fusion reactor.

In other words, a star.

Atoms operating according
to the laws of physics met

and fused in the
unbroken darkness.

And then there was light.

In this froth of
elementary particles,

the nucleus of one of the atoms,

a helium atom, was formed.

After billions of years,
the star is now elderly.

Having converted all of its
available hydrogen fuel to helium.

Now that it's time
for the star to die,

it resumes the turning
inward of its infancy.

Can you find our helium atom?

It joined with two others to
become one of our heroes,

a carbon atom.

That's what in
the hearts of stars.

Soon, our carbon atom
will tumble out of this

red giant star into the
interstellar ocean of space.

We've tinted this atom
blue so you can find it

in the vastness.

Meanwhile, in another
part of the galaxy.

Similar processes were
unfolding as stars were

born and died.

The other atom of our
tale was formed in the heart

of this dying star.

In the catastrophic
process of going supernova,

226 protons and neutrons
became fused to a carbon atom.

Turning it into a uranium atom.

We've tinted our
other hero atom red,

so that you could
follow it on its odyssey

through space and time.

As chance would have it,

after wandering the
vast Milky Way galaxy,

our two atoms both
happened on the fiery birth

of a small solar system.

Ours.

Our carbon atom has traveled far
to become part of a small planet.

After billions of years, it
joined an extremely complex

molecule, which has the
peculiar property of a making

virtually identical
copies of itself.

The carbon atom plays its
tiny role in the origin of life.

Through all its incarnations,

our carbon atom has
had no self-awareness.

No free will.

It is merely an extremely minor
cog in some vast cosmic machinery,

working in accord
with the laws of nature.

And that other atom?

The uranium atom
made in the supernova?

What has become of it?

Our world was born in fire.

And this tiny atom
was drawn to it.

Maybe it rode the explosive
wave of a supernova.

Or perhaps, it was attracted
by the gravity of our sun and

pulled down deeper and
deeper into the interior,

which was even more of a hell.

The Earth's surface soon cooled,

but the interior
remained molten.

The magma slowly circulating
and our uranium atom found

itself carried over the
ages, from the deep interior,

back all the way
up to the surface.

Despite the high temperatures
and pressures deep within the

Earth, our atom's integrity
was never threatened.

Atoms are small,
old, hard and durable.

Everything is made
of atoms, including us.

But until the last years
of the 19th Century,

we didn't know about the
frenzied activity inside the atom.

And this is where our two
atoms from opposite ends of

the Milky Way
galaxy finally met.

It happened in Paris.

Our carbon atom became
part of the retina of one of

the world's greatest scientists.

This was just a few years
after the discovery of x-rays.

Marie Curie and her
husband and research partner,

Pierre, wanted to know how
a piece of matter could make it

possible to see through
skin and even walls.

The knowledge that there were
rare places in the world where

rocks, rich in uranium,
possess these strange

properties inspired Marie
on her scientific quest.

The dull brown ore, still
mixed with pine needles,

came from the part of Eastern
Europe that is now the Czech Republic.

But this material was very rare.

And even to distill a
tiny amount of it required

the most lengthy and
labor intensive efforts.

She was later to write,

"we lived in our single
occupation, as in a dream."

They worked under the
worst possible conditions to

purify the ore into a
mineral called pitchblende,

which was 50 to 80% uranium.

This was quite an achievement,
but Marie and Pierre were

hunting for something
far more rare.

It took them three years
to process tons of ore.

To isolate a mere tenth of a gram
of a substance she named radium.

Marie and Pierre had discovered
a completely new element.

The Curies showed that
the radium was entirely

unaffected by
extreme temperatures.

That was strange.

Most things subjected to
such intense heat would

change drastically.

And, there was something else.

It spontaneously emitted energy.

Not through chemical reactions,

but through some
unknown mechanism.

Marie Curie called this new
phenomenon radioactivity.

She and Pierre calculated
the energy that spontaneously

flowed from a lump of radium
would be much greater than

burning the same amount of coal.

Radioactivity, to
their astonishment,

was millions of times more
potent than chemical energy.

The difference between
liberating the energy that

resides in molecules
and the far greater power

stored deeper down.

Between Marie, Pierre,
little Irene and the man

she would later marry,

the family would win five
Nobel prizes in science.

The bottles, tubes and
flasks of pitchblende that

they had refined, left a
residue of radium particles.

They were so potent, that
they lit up the lab at night.

As Marie wrote years later,
"they were like Earthly stars,

these glowing tubes in
that poor rough shack."

Marie leapt to the
correct conclusion that the

luminescence was due to
something happening inside

the nuclei of radioactive atoms.

For thousands of years, it had
been thought that atoms were

the smallest unit of matter.

Curie's earthly stars were
evidence that within the atom

was a possible world
where even smaller

particles were interacting.

100 years after
this magical night,

Marie Curie's cookbooks
still glowed with the exquisite

radioactivity she
had discovered.

But it took a little time for
the darker implications of

this deeper understanding of
nature to dawn in the mind of

a visionary named H.G. Wells.

A writer, who was a
genius at turning the

new revelations of
science into stories

that captivated the world.

And foreseeing as no one
else, their gravest consequences.

The writer H.G. Wells,

who first imagined time
machines and alien invasions

had a nightmare of a
future world where atoms

were weaponized.

In his book called The
World Set Free written in 1913,

he coined the
phrase atomic bombs.

And loosed them on
helpless civilian populations.

He set his vision of a nuclear
war between England and

Germany in the impossibly
distant future of the 1950's.

In 1933, the
Hungarian physicist,

Leo Szilard, was contemplating
becoming a biologist.

Dr. Szilard?

Are you quite
all right in there?

He read Wells' novel
and it started him thinking.

Szilard knew that atoms
are made of protons and

neutrons on the inside.

And a skittering veil of
electrons on the outside.

Suddenly, awaiting for
the light to change at this

intersection in London, he
was struck by the thought,

if he could find a
sufficiently large amount of

an element that would emit two
neutrons when it absorbed one,

it would sustain a
nuclear chain reaction.

Two would produce four,
four would produce eight

and so forth.

Until enormous amounts of
energy in the nucleus itself

could be liberated.

Not a chemical reaction,
but a nuclear one.

This was the moment
our world changed.

Leo Szilard also knew the
power of exponentials and

if a neutron chain reaction
could be triggered down there

in world of the atom's nucleus,

then something like Wells'
imaginary atomic bomb

might be possible.

He shuddered at the thought
of this destructive capability.

It was just the latest
development on a continuum

of violence that
began long long before.

50,000 years ago,

all humans were roving
bands of hunter-gatherers.

They communicated
over limited areas by

calling to one another.

That is, at the speed of sound.

Around 750 miles per hour.

But over longer distances,
they could communicate only

as fast as they could run.

Around 12,000 years ago,
about the same time as the

invention of agriculture,
they developed the power to

kill at a longer distance.

The kill radius expanded
to the arc of an arrow

launched by a bow.

And they could kill one
person with a single arrow.

Our ancestors were not
particularly warlike because

there was so few people and
so much room back then that

moving on was
preferable to armed conflict.

Their weapons were used
almost entirely for hunting.

Their identification
horizon was likely small.

Only with the other
members of their band of

50 or 100 people.

But their time horizon
took a giant leap.

They worked long and hard
planting crops in the here and

now, so several months
later, they could harvest them.

They postponed present
gratification for later advantage.

They began to
plan for the future.

By about 2,500 years ago,
there was a new kind of war.

The conquered territories
of Alexander stretched from

Macedonia to the Indus Valley.

There were now many on planet
Earth who owed allegiance to

groups composed of millions.

Over long distances,

maximum speed of both
communication and transportation

was the speed of
the sail and the horse.

Archidamus III, King of Sparta,

was famed for his
unflinching courage.

He relished taking part in hand
to hand combat with the enemy.

It is said that when he first
saw a projectile hurled by a

Balista, he cried
out in anguish.

"Oh Hercules! The
valor of man is lost!"

Both the kill range
and the kill ratio

had increased exponentially.

Now, ten corpses lay
where one would have been.

And the soldier who released
the lever on the siege engine

never even saw their faces.

He remained far removed from
the carnage on the other side

of the city wall.

Today, the maximum speed
of transportation is the escape

velocity from Earth.

25,000 miles per hour.

The speed of communication
is the speed of light.

The identification horizons
have also expanded enormously.

For some, it's
a billion or more.

For others, it's
our whole species.

And for a few,
it's all living things.

The kill radius, in the
worst case scenario,

is now our global civilization.

How did we get here?

It was the result of a deadly
embrace between science and state.

And there was one scientist
for whom no amount of

destructive power was enough.

It's hard to pinpoint the
precise moment when the

first nuclear war began.

Some might trace it all the
way back to that arrow sailing

over the treetops.

Others might say it
started much later,

with three messages.

In 1939 on Adolf
Hitler's birthday,

one of his brightest
young scientists,

Paul Harteck, had a special
gift in mind for his Führer.

Harteck wrote a letter
to the Nazi war office,

he wished to inform them
that the latest developments in

nuclear physics would make it
possible to produce an explosive

exponentially more powerful
than conventional weapons.

He was trying to give an
atomic bomb to Adolf Hitler.

But Hitler would never get
his hands on a nuclear weapon,

he had murdered, imprisoned
or exiled many of the great

physicists in his territories.

Those who happened
to be Jews or liberals and

many who were both.

Exactly a month
before the war began,

Leo Szilard made a pilgrimage
to the house Albert Einstein

was renting on Long Island.

The physicist who usually
chauffeured Leo Szilard on

trips out of Manhattan was
unavailable that August day in 1939.

So, Szilard enlisted the services
of a fellow Hungarian emigrate,

a young scientist
named Edward Teller.

Persecution in Budapest
sent him and his family to

take refuge in Munich,

where he lost his right
foot in a traffic accident.

In the early 1930s, Teller
and his family were forced

to flee once again.

Just as Harteck felt it
his duty to inform Hitler.

Szilard wanted President
Franklin Roosevelt to know

the awesome power
of such a weapon.

There was no scientist on
Earth whose prestige and

influence was
comparable to Einstein's.

Einstein's nightmare
was imagining Hitler with a

nuclear weapon at his disposal.

But what would be the
long-term consequences of

this dangerous new knowledge?

Which, once unleashed,
could never be taken back.

Einstein would take
no role in the U.S.

effort to build the atomic bomb,

which became known as
"The Manhattan Project."

But he did alert the President
to the potential use of

atomic nuclei in warfare.

After the war was over, he
told a reporter that if he had

known the Germans would
fail in developing in an atomic

bomb, he never would
have signed the letter.

But Edward Teller had
no such ambivalence.

He couldn't wait to get started
on weaponizing the atom.

The Russian physicist, G.N. Flyorov
had tried for years to alert his leader,

Joseph Stalin, to the possible
military applications of a

nuclear chain reaction.

But the Soviet Union was
under siege by the Germans.

And an atom bomb project was
likely to take years to complete.

With their backs
against the wall,

it seemed too impractical
to even think about.

In 1942, Flyorov had
published a scientific paper

on nuclear physics.

Now, he was excited to see
what the eminent physicists

in Europe and the United
States had to say about it.

Flyorov was puzzled.

None of the physicists of
the International Scientific

Community thought his
paper worthy of comment.

At first, he was hurt, but
then he realized what was

really happening.

American and German scientific
journals were being scrubbed

of any nuclear physics
papers as both nations secretly

worked on building the bomb.

It was this absence
of published data,

the dogs that did not
bark, that moved Flyorov to

re-double his efforts to
convince Stalin to start his

own nuclear weapons program.

In all three cases,
it was the scientists,

not the generals
or the arms dealers,

who informed their leaders
that a huge increase in

kill ratio was possible.

The U.S. Department of War

chose the remote location
of Los Alamos, New Mexico

as the headquarters for the
atomic bomb research project.

It had been recommended
by the project's director,

physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer,

who had recuperated there
from an illness as a teenager.

But for Edward Teller, an
atomic bomb wasn't big enough.

He dreamed of
even greater lethality.

A weapon in which the atomic
bomb was nothing more than a

match to light a
fuse to the nucleus.

A thermal nuclear weapon.

What Teller affectionately
called, the super.

If Edward Teller had a polar
opposite in the scientific community,

it would have been
Joseph Rotblat.

Rotblat was born in
Warsaw to a wealthy family,

who like Teller's,
had lost everything.

In the summer of 1939,
just before the Nazis invaded,

he was invited to England
to take a research position at

the University of Liverpool.

At the last minute
before his departure,

his beloved wife, Tola had
an emergency appendectomy.

She was forced to remain
behind until she was

well enough to travel.

Tola insisted that Joseph go on
ahead to prepare their new home.

It would just be a matter
of weeks, she told him.

The challenge, was to
find a chemical fuse that

would light the
nuclear chain reaction,

first imagined by
Leo Szilard in London.

The scientists and engineers
told themselves that they

would be averting a grave
danger by building a bomb

of unprecedented
destructive power.

Their government
could be trusted.

They would never use
such a weapon in an act of

aggression, not like
those other governments.

These atomic scientists
were the first to see

building nuclear weapons
as a deterrent to using them.

The fear of Hitler with an
atomic bomb was the driving

rationale for the
Manhattan Project.

And yet, when Germany
surrendered and Hitler was no more,

of the thousands of scientists
who worked on the bomb,

only one resigned.

It was Joe Rotblat.

In the years that followed,
whenever he was asked about

his decision, he always
rejected any suggestion that

he had done so out
of moral superiority.

He would just smile and
say, the truth was that he

desperately missed his wife,
who had been prevented from

leaving Warsaw and lost to
him in the chaos of the war.

With its end in Europe

came his chance to
go and search for her.

But, he never found her.

Except as a name
on a list of the dead.

Tola had perished
in the Holocaust.

Exterminated at the
Belzec concentration camp.

Although he lived
another 60 years,

Rotblat never remarried.

Of the three nations that
pursued wartime research

into building the bomb,

only the U. S. succeeded
before the war's end.

And historians believe that
was because America had

taken in so many immigrants.

Of the leading figures
in the Manhattan Project,

only two were native born.

And only one got
his PhD in the U.S.

Atomic bombs were dropped
on the Japanese cities of

Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
ending the second World War.

Two months later, President
Truman invited Oppenheimer

for congratulations
in the Oval Office.

But to Truman's dismay,

Oppenheimer was in
no mood to celebrate.

Mr. President, I feel like I
have blood on my hands.

Don't be a fool.

If anyone has blood
on their hands, it's me.

And it doesn't bother me at all.

How long do you
think it will be before the

Russians get the bomb?

Never!

Don't you ever let that
cry baby scientist anywhere

near me again, do you hear?

Less than four years later,

the Russians exploded
their own atomic bomb.

And shortly after, both
nations went on to create

supers: thermonuclear
hydrogen bombs.

The nuclear arms race begun
by those three letters from

scientists was off
to a terrifying start.

After the war, Teller's dreams
of greater and greater killing

power were to come true.

The early 1950s, when the
Communist witch hunts began

in the United States, he
was perfectly happy to hint

that Robert Oppenheimer,
his former boss,

who had brilliantly run
the Manhattan Project,

should be stripped of
his security clearance,

thereby ruining
Oppenheimer's career.

Despite dramatic reductions
in nuclear arsenals,

the specter of nuclear
war haunts us still.

How can we sleep so soundly

in the shadow of a
smoking volcano?

In another time, there
were others who faced a

grave danger as if
immobilized in a dream.

Let me tell you a story.

Two men walk into a bar.

And they got into a fight.

Allez!

Louis-Auguste Cyparis
was arrested and taken to the

Saint Pierre Prison, where
he was locked in the dungeon.

This all happened on the
French colonial island of

Martinique in the
Caribbean in 1902.

In the midst of an
election campaign.

On this April morning,
Fernan Cleric stepped outside

to admire the view.

He was master
of all he surveyed.

The factories that turned
the island's trees into furniture.

And the fields of
sugar cane and coffee.

That's strange.

Why would there be frost on
such a sunny warm morning?

But it wasn't frost, it
was ash from the volcano,

Mount Pelée.

When the ash began to fall,

Claire Apprentice, wife
of the American Council

considered going
home to Massachusetts.

No, but that was
out of the question.

There was the gala she
planned for the following week,

postponing it was unthinkable.

And there were many who were
too poor to leave their meager

possessions and flee
the city of Saint Pierre for a

safer part of the island.

Others, with the means to do so,

departed on boats.

Mayor Fouché worked
late into the evening,

drafting detailed plans for the
Ascension Day Banquet and Ball.

Meanwhile, below...

Servants cleaned ash
from the banquet hall

in preparation for the event.

The closest thing to a scientist
on the island of Martinique

was an elementary school
teacher named Gaston Landes.

Landes actually made
a pilgrimage to the newly

awakened volcanic crater
and shared his observations of

heightened activity
in the newspaper.

But Landes was more
concerned about his

forthcoming trip to Paris.

He was to display samples
of the island's plant life along

with the lecture he
had been asked to give.

But, with the ash
falling at this rate,

his specimens
would all be ruined.

Mayor Fouché mustered enough
resolve to create a new poster.

"Fellow citizens, be not afraid.

No lava flows could reach
the city in the near future.

We have seven kilometers
between us and the volcano.

The amount of lava would
have to be impossibly huge

to cross the two immense
valleys and the swamp

between us and Mount Peleé."

In the early hours of May 7th,

the people Saint Pierre awoke
to thundering seismic tremors

and volcanic lightning near
the mouth of the hellish volcano.

Now, mass panic began to spread.

Troops were dispatched
to try and calm the public.

And then...

Just before the dawn
of Thursday morning.

May 8th.

The volcano became utterly calm.

The air was cool and fresh.

And the sea like glass.

When Mount Pelée
erupted at 8:02 AM on

May 8th, 1902, the explosion
produced a sound so loud

it was heard 500 miles
away, in Venezuela.

The massive pyroclastic flood,

a death cloud of
super-heated gasses,

crossed the valleys
to the city in minutes.

The explosion was the
equivalent of just one

strategic nuclear warhead.

Three days after the eruption,

men from the other
part of the island,

combed the still smoking
streets of Saint Pierre.

To collect the bodies and
burn what the volcano had failed

to consume completely.

Few have ever experienced what

Louis-Auguste Cyparis
endured and lived to tell.

When the volcano erupted,
he heard the screams of his

captors briefly before
a terrifying silence.

And then, a fierce heat
came blasting through the

tiny vent in his cell.

He hopped and jumped
around to avoid it,

but was still severely
burned up to his shoulders.

For three days he
suffered in agony with

no other sustenance than the
moisture on the walls of his cell.

His sentence to solitary
confinement in the thick

walled dungeon
had saved his life.

He was one of only
two survivors of the

30,000 citizens of Saint Pierre.

What about us?

Would we know when
to sound the alarm?

Can we see what's coming?

Can we awaken in time?

We're back on the trail
of one of our two atoms.

The uranium atom.

A uranium atom is
inherently unstable.

Sooner or later, it decays.

A particle from its
nucleus breaks away,

transforming the uranium atom

into an entirely
different element.

Thorium.

We're flying through the
crossfire of radioactive decay.

Subatomic particles move
like bullets through the

fine structure of life.

Shearing electrons
from their molecules.

This is how ionizing
radiation affects living things.

Those chromosomes
never had a chance.

This is why atomic weapons
are so much more dangerous

than conventional ones.

Ionizing radiation is all
around us and even inside us.

At low levels, it
poses no threat.

But at higher levels,
it's a different story.

In the near term, exposure
to lethal levels of radiation can

cause a runaway reaction
of the cell that makes it

multiply exponentially.

Cancer.

But its power to harm can also
echo down the corridors of time.

When the radiation tore
into the chromosomes of the

butterfly, it left a trail of
destruction in its wake that

changed the destiny of the
butterfly's unborn offspring.

A mutation in its genes.

We have a lot in
common with butterflies.

Any change in the DNA
architecture will be copied

over and over again in
succeeding generations.

The damage is passed on.

Vandalizing our future.

We are made of atoms that
were born in stars thousands of

light years away in space
and billions of years ago in time.

The search for our own
origins has carried us

far from our epoch in our world.

We are star-stuff,
deeply connected with

the rest of the universe.

The matter we are made of
was generated in cosmic fire.

And now, we, ambulatory
collections of seven billion

billion billion atoms
intricately assembled over

eons has devised a means
to tap that cosmic fire,

hidden in the heart of matter.

We cannot unlearn
this knowledge.

And tragically, insanity
runs in our family.

The letters that the
scientists wrote to begin

this nightmare were
followed by another.

This one, a letter
to the planet,

stating that this new
understanding of physics

demanded a new way of thinking.

"Shall we choose death because
we cannot forget our quarrels,

we appeal as human
beings to human beings.

Remember your humanity
and forget the rest."

And what of our other atom?

The carbon atom?

It's inside one of you.