Let’s start the year with a look back in time to 1957, a time when nuclear bombs were being tested underground for the first time at the Nevada test site some 105 kilometers northwest of Las Vegas. If this seems an unusual place to launch a discussion on interstellar matters, consider the story of an object that some argue became the fastest manmade artifact in history, an object moving so fast that it would have passed the orbit of Pluto four years after ‘launch,’ in the days of Yuri Gagarin and Project Mercury.

I’m bringing it up because the tale of the nuclear test known as Plumbob Pascal B is again active on the Internet, and it’s a rousing tale. Operation Plumbob involved a series of 29 nuclear tests that fed the development of missile warheads both intercontinental and intermediate. The history of such underground nuclear testing would make for an interesting book and indeed it has, in the form of Caging the Dragon (Defense Nuclear Agency, 1995), by one James Carothers.

But let’s narrow our focus to the nuclear devices known as Pascal A and B, the former used used in the first nuclear test below ground. This would have been the first such test in history, as the Soviet Union did not begin its underground program until 1961.

Image: The scene following the detonation of Ranier, an underground nuclear test similar to Pascal B. Credit: Plane Encyclopedia.

The key player here was Robert Brownlee (Los Alamos National Laboratory), who supervised the detonation of Pascal A and duly noted the fact that the yield was much greater than anticipated, so that a column of flame shot into the sky. The blast was not remotely contained. Pascal B was partially an attempt to fix that problem by lowering a 900-kilogram, 4-inch thick iron lid over the borehole. It seemed sensible to at least some at the time, but Brownlee himself evidently did not believe it would work to contain the blast, as indeed it did not.

The detonation of Pascal B caused the blast, like its predecessor, to climb straight up the borehole and escape. The interesting part is that the lid was never found. The only camera footage of the event caught the iron plate in only one frame, and that fact seems to be the source of the current interest. For Brownlee, extrapolating from the speed of the filming (one frame per millisecond) attempted a calculation on the speed of the object. He wound up with something on the order of six times Earth’s escape velocity, which would be 241,920 kilometers per hour, or 67.2 kilometers per second.

That’s an interesting figure! Voyager 1 is moving at about 17.1 kilometers per second and is more or less the yardstick for our thinking about where we are today in achieving deep space velocities. So what is commonly being described as a ‘manhole cover,’ which is pretty much what this object was, is conceivably the fastest moving object humans have ever produced.

Brownlee, recalling these events in 2002, described the iron cap as requiring a lot of ‘man-handlng’ to get it into place. And he goes on to say this:

For Pascal B, my calculations were designed to calculate the time and specifics of the shock wave as it reached the cap. I used yields both expected and exaggerated in my calculations, but significant ones. When I described my results to Bill Ogle [deputy division leader on the project], the conversation went something like this.

Ogle: “What time does the shock arrive at the top of the pipe?”
RRB: “Thirty one milliseconds.”
Ogle: “And what happens?”
RRB: “The shock reflects back down the hole, but the pressures and temperatures are such that the welded cap is bound to come off the hole.”
Ogle: “How fast does it go?”
RRB: “My calculations are irrelevant on this point. They are only valid in speaking of the shock reflection.”
Ogle: “How fast did it go?”
RRB: “Those numbers are meaningless. I have only a vacuum above the cap. No air, no gravity, no real material strengths in the iron cap. Effectively the cap is just loose, traveling through meaningless space.”
Ogle: And how fast is it going?”

This last question was more of a shout. Bill liked to have a direct answer to each one of his questions.

RRB: “Six times the escape velocity from the earth.”

Image: Los Alamos’ Robert Brownlee (1924-2018). Credit: American Astronomical Society.

According to Brownlee, the answer delighted Ogle, who had never heard of a velocity given in terms of escape velocity from the Earth. Brownlee himself notes that because the object was only caught in one camera frame, there was no direct velocity measurement. He could only summarize the situation by saying that the ‘manhole cover’ was “going like a bat!” But he also notes that neither he nor Ogle believed that the cap would actually have made it into space. And the story doesn’t end just yet.

As passed along by my ever-reliable buddy Al Jackson (Centauri Dreams readers will know of Al as astronaut trainer on the Lunar Module Simulator during the Apollo era, and as the author of numerous papers on interstellar propulsion), I point to a set of calculations by one R. Finden titled “The Fastest Object Ever: The Manhole Cover,” evidently sent in response to an article in a magazine called Business Insider in 2016. The note appeared originally on a Reddit thread. Finden notes that his or her work should be considered as a rough estimate because “flight at a mach number upwards of 200 has not been studied and may never be.” Good point.

Finden’s calculations show that the cover would have reached temperatures five times its melting point before it could ever escape the atmosphere. And then this:

If the steel plate were magical and did not burn in the atmosphere, it would have escaped the upper stratosphere (50km) at 53 km/s just 934ms from launch. This not only means it would have made it to space, but it would have eventually escaped our solar system (depending on the time of day at launch). What likely happened was the plate was initially launched parallel to the ground and rotated with oscillation into the upright position, and by that time the drag from the first second of flight decreased its speed enough to prevent it from entering the upper stratosphere.

Conclusion: No manhole cover in space. It’s worth recalling, the Finden note adds, that the Chelyabinsk meteor was moving at only one-third the speed and had 13,900 times the weight of the flying cover, and even this mass was unable to survive Earth’s atmosphere. I dislike this result, as the idea of an object ‘launched’ in 1961 escaping the Solar System while we were still trying to get to the Moon is utterly delightful. And because R Finden’s math skills are well beyond my pay grade, I can’t reach a definitive conclusion about the result. So maybe we can still dream of flying manhole covers even if the odds seem long indeed.