City 40

Easy.

Wake up.

Nina!

We'll get dressed.

Did you stain it?

Will we glue?

Glue?

My name is Nadezhda Kutepova

and I'm a native of Ozersk.

I was born here.

My mother used to warn me, "Darling,

never say where you are from...

or a Black Maria will take us away

and you'll never see your parents again."

We were told we lived in a secret place.

There were spies all over,

sneaking around, gathering information.

My mother told me,

"Let state secrets stay secret."

As I was growing up as a kid

in the city of Chelyabinsk,

I was aware of the existence

of another world,

a strange place, a closed place,

a top-secret place.

The city was called Ozersk at that time

but I never

heard that name as a kid,

because everybody referred to it

as Chelyabinsk-40...

or City 40.

City no. 40 was the name everybody used.

It was not until 1994...

that I understood

that this was actually the place

where they made the plutonium bomb.

A town in South Ural, Russia.

It has a population of almost 100,000.

The town has streets, avenues,

parks and squares...

stadiums, gyms,

theaters and museums.

It reminds you of some peaceful

resort town, doesn't it?

My parents had good friends

who lived in Ozersk, or in City no. 40.

They came to visit us

and they told us that they lived

in a very beautiful city.

But we never visited them back,

and my parents explained to me

that this was not possible

because this was a very special place

that couldn't be reached

by train or by bus from Chelyabinsk.

They said it was, like,

a one-way thing,

so these people could visit us,

but we could never see the place

where they lived.

What are these closed cities?

Each is a state within a state.

Even inside such fenced-off cities

there are separate facilities,

which are also fenced off.

People in these cities

can exit the city,

but it takes a special pass.

This City 40 is

where almost all reserve

of Russia's nuclear materials

is stockpiled.

The system cuts off attempts

at unauthorized access

at an early stage.

Unauthorized access there

cannot even be imagined.

I read about a tell-tale sign

how you know someone is a terrorist.

They are usually dressed warmer

than necessary.

To get in there,

you would need...

a full-scale army operation,

with major assault force,

tanks and everything.

It's a cozy town.

It's a cozy and beautiful town.

But a closed one.

For instance, it was problematic

for you to enter.

Our town is a town of intellectuals.

You can't buy them for anything.

They are...

getting a good education.

The schools have good funding.

They also get good health care,

even if it is getting worse now.

Our citizens are used to the very best.

A closed city implies not only

the comforts of life...

but also implies safety.

Here, in this city,

we can let our children go out

at 11:
00 p.m. without worries...

something that people in other towns

cannot do.

Their children have to be accompanied.

The people who were born here stay here.

Do you want it?

Some more.

Share with your brother.

Be careful.

You will be dirty.

I want sour cream.

What sour cream? Only yogurt.

We're out of sour cream.

We'll have it this evening.

I want sour cream.

It's with raspberries, look.

See how tasty it is with raspberries?

We have a woman here, Nadezhda Kutepova.

She is a human rights activist...

who fights for the opening of the city.

She once asked me, "Aren't you concerned

with the barbed wire?

It violates your rights."

I told her...

"My rights are not violated.

Read my lips,"

as President Reagan would say

when they asked him too many questions.

"My rights are not violated."

I like people who are stubborn

and firm in their positions.

But I don't like crazy people.

I work in two fields,

human rights in closed cities...

and the rights of people

affected by radiation.

Nadezhda,

when Romashov comes, let's comfort him.

With Romashov, we'll have a therapeutic

talk. Did he get the court decision?

No. Today he will come

and tell us everything.

I asked him to please come.

They have done something. Poor thing.

He asked me to call. I called the judge.

It seemed like she was writing

the decision that moment.

And she asked me,

"Nadezhda, please, explain to me..."

-Who was it?

-Let's not say who it was. A judge.

I thought to myself,

well, read the name of the law!

I run an organization,

"Planet of Hopes," in Ozersk.

Officially, the authorities

don't recognize us,

because we're "enemies of the city."

But whenever a city officer,

or their friends or relatives run into

serious legal problems,

they come to us,

because no one else would help.

For many people,

there is no one else to confide in.

I work in the reception room,

greeting people.

It's fun working with her.

She has the same character as myself.

She doesn't have a husband, or parents.

She manages everything...

her work, her home, her kids.

I simply cannot leave this person.

My health is no good, I buried my son,

he had caused me anguish for two years.

And, how should I put it...

I have had a Mayak

related illness since birth.

I have no health left.

She has helped me

and now I can't refuse her,

I am helping her.

Ozersk has been

a closed city since day one.

Originally the Soviet Union

was looking for a site

to produce plutonium for weapons.

Such a site was found,

a spot in the woods.

I remember, we were in school.

It was 1990 or 1989.

We were getting ready for a trip.

A man came to us,

dressed in a solemn suit,

and warned us,

"You guys are not from Ozersk.

You are from Chelyabinsk.

You live on Lenin Street.

Because there are enemies everywhere,

and they aren't sleeping.

Blabbermouths help the enemy."

The forbidden quality of our town

has made people beware of strangers.

I remember an episode

when my father went to a resort.

A fellow train passenger asked him...

for a long time...

about his city, the life, etc...

Father tried to get rid of him

by saying he was born in Chelyabinsk.

That he lived on Lenin Street, and so on.

At the next stop, before leaving,

the passenger said to him,

"Good for you. You haven't

disclosed anything about our city.

Because our town

does not accept traitors."

Even though Mayak

is just a factory in Ozersk,

historically, Mayak has always been

more important than the city.

It was on July 5, 1947.

I was met at the Kyshtym station.

It was 11 o'clock in the evening.

They drove me...

in an unknown direction.

They didn't tell me

where I was being taken.

I thought it would be a factory.

in Kyshtym. I realized...

there were no enterprises there

that would fit my specialization.

I began to worry.

Especially when we passed

through the center of the town.

Then we went up the hill to the church...

and then the woods began.

There was nothing to see.

This is when I really began to worry.

I had a sinking feeling.

Had I been arrested for something?

My mother came here at the age of eight,

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