Ra Or: The Inherent Romantic Nature Of Radiation Poisoning

He only notices I’m talking to him because he sees my hands gesturing wildly towards his computer screen. He doesn’t hear a word I say.

“What?” He asks, pulling his right headphone out of his ear.

“I said are you watching Chernobyl?”

He presses the spacebar, pausing the screen, and smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, I started it last night and haven’t been able to stop hitting the ‘play next episode’ button.”

“I get it,” I hold my hands up as if to show my surrender. “I watched the whole season in like a day. I didn’t even come out of my room, pretty sure my roommates thought I was dead.”

He nods and gives me a tiny, awkward smirk.

I’m making him feel weird. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve just seen that he was watching Chernobyl, acknowledged that we might have the same taste in tv shows and kept walking back to the dorms. Like a normal person. Now I’m just hovering near him, waiting for the silence between us to become so unbearable that he just awkwardly puts his headphone back in his ear and saves me the embarrassment of having to shoo myself away.

Then, he says something unexpected.

“Do you want to sit?”

For a second I’m so shocked, my mouth opens to answer, but no words come out. Things like “absolutely” and “I’d love to” are bouncing around in my brain, but refuse to pass my lips. I can’t even bring myself to make a sound that vaguely resembles an “uh-huh.”

“I mean, I just figured since...” he straightens up and clears his throat. “You don’t have to if - ”

“No, I can sit!” I blurt out. It’s like a switch is flipped and I suddenly know what words are and how to use them again. “My next class isn’t until way later today”

The words pour out so quickly, I’m not even sure he understands me, but he gestures for me to take the seat across from him at the tiny cafe table anyway. As I sit, I think I can see the smallest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he takes a sip of his drink and his face goes back to neutral before I can really be sure.

This must be weird for him, we pass each other on campus all the time, and we’ve got three classes together, and he’s never so much as looked in my direction. Now we’re just sitting across from each other at the school Starbucks talking about our latest TV obsessions like we’ve known each other for years? This definitely isn’t how I expected my Tuesday afternoon to play out.

“I listen to the podcast too.” I say.

“There’s a podcast?”

“Yeah, it’s really great actually. They go over every episode and tell you what’s real and the truths they had to stretch for the sake of time or whatever. It’s like a post show deep-dive.”

“Well now I definitely have to listen to it.” He says. “I didn’t know too much about radiation poisoning before this, but I’m three episodes in and not to brag, but I'm pretty much an expert now.”

I laugh. “Oh of course. And I assume after this, you’ll be moving on to Radium Girls?”

His brow creases in confusion and I can tell that he has no earthly idea what I’m talking about. Joy surges through me in the nerdiest way possible - and I’m just happy that he can’t physically see how excited I am.

“Ah, you’re going to love it.” I smile. I’m practically bouncing in my seat. “It’s about a group of American women in the twenties who used radium to paint watch dials. Then, when their bodies started to literally fall apart from so much exposure to radioactive material, they had to take a gigantic corporation to court. Where the company denied the entire thing was even happening - of course. If you’re obsessed with Chernobyl, it’s easily a Level One.”

“It’s a what?”

I feel my cheeks go cherry red. If it were at all possible to sink into the floor and disappear right at this very moment, I would.

I clear my throat and look anywhere but his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh come on, what’s a Level One?” He prods, closing his laptop and leaning towards me.

He’s clearly not going to let it go. And now I have to delve into one of the nerdiest things about me, with a guy I’m sure didn’t even know I existed before all of five minutes ago.

“It’s a system I came up with a while ago. Mostly when I became the go-to for movie and TV recommendations with my friends. It breaks down a show - or whatever - into six levels and depending on which level you’re on, that’s how I know what to recommend.”

He smiles at me, not mockingly, but in a way that looks… Impressed. I can feel my previous humiliation scaling back a bit.

“So you’ve analyzed and broken down movies into steps - “

“Levels.” I correct.

He laughs. “Sorry, levels. You’ve broken down movies into levels, and can recommend other stuff your friends might like based on…” He pauses. “Their watch history?”

“Yes?” I say.

My answer comes out sounding more like a question. My gut instinct is embarrassment. I mean, who wants to tell a cute guy that you recommend TV and movies in a way that can be broken down into sections like you’re teaching a college course? If someone told me that, I’d be concerned about the amount of media they consumed and whether or not that amount was healthy. But he just seems to be genuinely fascinated by the idea.

“So, you’re like the Netflix algorithm come to life?”

I let out a laugh so loud, a few people turn around in their seats to look at me.

“Okay, so tell me the levels.” He says.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I want to know what I should be watching after this!”

“Alright.” I lean forward and place my elbows on the tabletop. “Level One, the subject. Take Chernobyl and Radium Girls, the through line being radiation poisoning and a somewhat large scale cover-up of gross negligence. If you liked one, ninety percent of the time, you’ll like whatever Level One is.”

He nods in agreement, but remains silent, waiting for me to continue.

“Level Two, the theme. Chernobyl is dark, it’s political, and it’s based on a true story. Something else along those lines? Mindhunter.”

“That’s that show where they go around interviewing murderers?”

“And trying to develop the first way to profile serial killers in the FBI.”

“That really happened?”

I nod enthusiastically. “The show’s based on a biography of a retired FBI agent. Did you want to watch it before I told you about it?”

“Yeah, it’s been in my watchlist forever. I just haven't gotten around to it.”

“Well now you know that you should be getting around to it! It’s worth the hype.” I give him a self-satisfied smile and move on. “Level Three, style. Is it a thirty minute comedy? Is it a procedural, case-of-the-week thing? Or does it have one big story arc that covers the entire season? Chernobyl is a miniseries, very to the point, and it doesn’t leave a lot of space for filler. So its counterpart would be When they See us.”

“About The Central Park Five, now The Exonerated Five. That one I’ve seen!”

“Did you like it?”

“Loved it, actually. But you’re only halfway through. Keep going.”

I hold up four fingers. “Level Four, the actors.”

“Wait, wait, I’ve got this one.” He waves his hands. “Chernobyl stars Jared Harris, who is also one of the leads in one of my favorite shows ever, Mad Men.”

I give him a tiny round of applause for participating.

“Honestly, I was only watching Chernobyl because Jared Harris was in it, and then I couldn’t stop.”

“So, first it was Mad Men and then you followed your Level Four all the way to Chernobyl.”

His eyes grow wide with realization. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Level Five, the showrunner. Sometimes it’s the writing, and you have to pull up the showrunner on IMDB and scroll through everything they’ve written so you can see what you should watch next. It’s basically the equivalent of going through an actors’ entire filmography and watching everything they’ve ever been in.”

He pulls out his phone. “Okay… Craig Mazin.” He skims what I assume is a list of his writing credits and nods along. “I like a few movies on this list. Scary Movie 3 is super underrated. Alright, the system is still working. What’s the last level?”

“And finally we have Level Six, and can I just say - people only reach this level if all the other levels have failed them and they still have nothing to watch.” I take a dramatic breath. “Level Six, the network.”

He laughs.

“Chances are, the network that airs your show has similar programming. So when in doubt, comb through HBOs show catalogue for something interesting. Who knows - Level Six could have you making the leap from Chernobyl to Sex And The City.”

He nearly chokes on his drink. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll go that far down the rabbit hole.”

We look at each other from across the table as silence creeps in between us. My brain frantically searches for something else to say to keep the conversation from falling flat, but I realize I’ve got nothing. Just because he invited me to sit down doesn’t make us best friends all of a sudden. I don’t even think he knows my name -

“So if I gave you a movie and a level, could you tell me what to watch next?”

I shrug. “Try me.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Knives Out. Level Two.”

I lean back in my chair, considering.

“Knives Out, a murder mystery with a little social commentarythrown in for spice. You should watch Ready Or Not. It’s less mystery, more murder, but surprisingly funny in the same way.”

“Never seen it. Perfect.” He drums his fingers on his closed laptop. “Do you want to watch it with me?”

The question catches me off guard. And once again, words flit around in my head, but none come out of my mouth. He wants to watch it together? I just nod dumbly and let out a breath that kinda sounds like “sure.”

“Are you busy tonight?”

I shake my head.

“Cool, I’ll just buy it and we can hang out at six or something. Dates happen at six o’clock on Tuesdays, right?”

“Yeah.”

My voice finally returns to me, albeit several octaves higher than usual, but I’m just happy not to be bobbing my head up and down like a moron anymore. He glances at his phone and murmurs something about being late. He asks if we can meet in Kramer Hall at 5:50 tonight, and I agree as he jams his computer and the charger into his backpack. He's jogging away before I can fully process what’s happened, and I still can’t be sure in the moments afterward.

But I think Chernobyl just got me a date.