Nuclear cookies are a simulated experience that allows U.S. officials to conduct wargames on missile attacks and see the devastating consequences of their choices

Last modified on Tuesday, December 14, 2021 07.51 EST

When I saw that the mildest option on the table in front of me involved killing at least 5 million people, it became obvious that something serious had gone wrong on this special day.

If I choose a more comprehensive alternative on three sheets of paper, I can kill up to 45 million, but it is difficult to focus on the details because someone yells at me through my earpiece and front screen.

I'm going through what a US president must do in the event of a nuclear crisis: make a decision to end the lives of millions of people with incomplete information in less than 15 minutes-and possibly the earth On life.

In the real world, I am in a conference room in a Washington hotel, but wearing virtual reality goggles. I sit behind the president's desk in the Oval Office. The TV news was on and there were reports on the movements of the Russian army, but the volume became lower. Someone told me that the national security adviser was going to be late.

I tried to turn my attention to the news, but a few seconds later the alarm sounded and a bald man in uniform and sunglasses appeared from the door on my left.

"Mr. President, we have a national emergency," a woman's voice said. "Please follow the officer immediately."

The bald officer led me into the wooden elevator hidden behind the wall, and we began to descend.

The VR simulation was developed by a team from Princeton University, American University, and University of Hamburg. It is based on extensive research, including interviews with former officials, to study what would happen if the United States was or believed to be a nuclear attack. They called their project a nuclear biscuit with a small card printed with a presidential launch authorization code.

In the past few days, nuclear weapons experts and former officials have conducted tests in Washington (researchers will not say whether any in-service decision makers have tried).

"You walk into the simulation and come out and change someone," said Richard Burt, the chief negotiator of the US-Soviet arms control negotiations after his turn.

After a complete and terrible 15 minutes, I understood what he meant. My military assistant and I got out of the elevator and entered the basement situation room. Unlike the famous scene in "Doctor Strange Love", there are no consultants around me. In the real world, they are unlikely to be immediately present when the alarm goes off.

In this case, my national security adviser is still stuck in the road, while military aides are trained to say nothing. His job is to hold on to the briefcase, the "nuclear football", which contains the launch plan and cookies. In the American system, the president has the sole command. He or she can make a decision without asking for any advice.

As soon as I sat down, the sound in the headset started to tell me the situation. Early warning sensors detected 299 missiles launched by Russia, which are believed to be heading towards the continental United States, most likely the intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) silos in the northwest. It is estimated that 2 million Americans will be killed. While explaining this, another voice-this time an agent-told me that the helicopter was evacuating me.

It is difficult for me to understand all the details because the police sirens are still ringing. It took me a few minutes to remember that I was the commander-in-chief and could order it to be closed. It was muted immediately, but I am not sure I did not miss an important nuance.

A general from the Strategic Command appeared on a screen in front of me, telling me that I did not have much time to make a decision and pay attention to the digital clock on the conference table. It said I have 12 minutes and 44 seconds left.

"If you don't make a decision before time is zero, we will lose our entire intercontinental ballistic missile force," the general said, his tone hinting that I have let the country down.

The silent military aid turned on football and put my three options before me. The first was a "limited counterattack" attack, targeting Russian intercontinental ballistic missile silos and major submarine and bomber bases. That version will kill between 5 and 15 million Russians. Option 2 is a "full counterattack", with an estimated number of casualties of 10-25 million. Option 3 also targets the "war sustaining industry", that is, the Russian leadership that will kill 30-45 million people.

In 1979, the world had a nuclear war within a few minutes, because someone left a training tape simulating a Russian attack in the early warning system monitor. In September 1983, a Russian computer incorrectly displayed an incoming American missile. The end of the world was avoided because the duty officer Lieutenant Colonel Stanislav Petrov violated the agreement and decided not to take vigilant action, because his instinct told him this was a glitch.

In the following decades, the technology has been updated, but theoretically the early warning system may be hacked like other so-called super-secure networks in the past.

I asked my assistant if it was possible to carry out a cyber attack, and was told that it could not be determined. My national security adviser (who had already overcome traffic problems at the time) recalled that the daily briefing contained something about early warning networks to repel cyber attacks.

I decided to abandon all three options, and only ordered an attack on Russia’s remaining arsenal after the first incoming missiles landed and confirmed that this was a real attack. In case I was dead at the time, I was advised to delegate the launch rights to the Vice President.

What happened next was deliberately unclear. The simulation ends with the military assistant displaying the code required for the command launch. The focus of the exercise was to emphasize the numbing impossibility of the choices faced by leaders of nuclear-weapon states.

Moritz Kurt, a senior researcher at the Institute of Peace Research and Security Policy at the University of Hamburg, said that so far, the vast majority of participants in the experiment have chosen one of the three options on the table.

"Most people chose the upgrade option, and very few people decided not to respond," Kurt said.

"People feel that they are making decisions under uncertainty," said Sharon Weiner, an associate professor in the School of International Service at American University. "They want to know more, or think that something is unclear, but they are under pressure to make a decision anyway.

"I think some people choose an option just because they want to end," she added.

The pressure to adopt one of the options proposed by the Pentagon is almost overwhelming. Once, an assistant asked me how I would face my country if I did not respond. The simulation raises the question of who chooses these options first. In the available 15 minutes, it is impossible to put all feasible solutions in front of the president, so whoever cuts them will have tremendous power. We only know that this is someone from the US military. Diplomats, politicians, or ethicists are not part of this process.

If a nuclear alarm occurs, it will be too late for any broader thinking—a few minutes of trying to think clearly amidst the sound of the alarm, the loud noise, and the many unknowns.

"In high-risk situations, it is more inclined to take mental shortcuts," Weiner said. People take more risks in a crisis. "Some literature says it depends on whether you feel safe personally or professionally. If you feel that you are not doing well, you will take unnecessary risks."

In my case, I froze in the last few minutes of the countdown and couldn't think of anything else to do. Maybe I should try to call Vladimir Putin, but it turns out that the simulation will tell me that he is not there.

What is shocking is that the researchers did not find any evidence that any US president except Jimmy Carter participated in reality exercises to practice the decision that might end the world. Other presidents occasionally participate in tabletop exercises with their assistants to discuss various options, but more often they send agents to replace them.

In January, the research team will bring their experiments to Capitol Hill in order to spark some thinking about the reality behind the US nuclear program.

"I hope members of Congress can experience this and at least see the consequences of their choices on nuclear weapons," Weiner said. "They will see everyone in that virtual room working hard to complete their work, but this is an impossible task."