Protivostoyanie

Moscow, Russia - I followed the directions to a rather innocuous looking building near Tagansky Square. Pedestrians strolled through the quiet street, seemingly on their way from shopping or errands. Children were playing and workers were painting on the grounds of the school across the street. Only a few cars made their way down the peaceful lane.

I double-checked the address: 5-y Kotelnichesky pereulok, building number 11. This was definitely the place.

A few old guys sat in the courtyard and watched me suspiciously as I rang the buzzer. "What do you want, devushka?"

"I have an appointment," I answered as curtly as they asked and I waited for my contact to arrive.

It was hard to believe that during Soviet times, this nondescript, neoclassical building was a gateway to the secret "Tagansky" undergound command post. Operated by Central Telephone & Telegraph, the facility was meant to serve as the communications headquarters in the event of a nuclear attack. As such, the building was just a shell and entryway to the 7000-sq-meter space that is 60 meters underground. Now in private hands, the facility is being converted into a sort of museum dedicated to the Cold War. (Wee www.zkp42.ru for more information).

My contact arrived - a pretty young woman, dressed in jeans and a jacket. "Hi, I'm Jane," she smiled. "Welcome to Protivostoyanie." That's not who you expect to be your guide at the secret underground Cold War museum!

I followed Jane (really Zhenya) inside, through the airtight metal door, where it was possible to see that the walls of this place were no less than a meter thick. She pointed out the "detox room" where potentially contaminated persons would undergo treatment before entering the facility. Then she ushered me into the elevator, which wisked us down 22 stories to a cavernous, spooky underground world.

The place is huge. As I said it's 7000 square meters. It consists of four different "blocks", each of which had a different function and a different level of security back in the day. More than two thousand people came to work here everyday.

Unfortunately, the place is nearly empty. In the mid-1980s, Central Telephone & Telegraph intended to upgrade this facility and the first step was a near total gutting. Then the threat of nuclear attack subsided. The Cold War ended. So the communications ministry vacated the premises and they took everything with them. The underground maze of tunnels and halls was left to deteriorate, accumulating water and dirt and darkness.

In 2006, the facility was auctioned off to a private construction company. The going price: 65 million rubles (about $2.3 million at the time). Not a bad price considering the price of real estate in Moscow these days. Not that there is a lot of use for a secret underground bunker, but the company now uses the above-ground building as for their offices, in addition to operating the "museum" below.

Some work has been done to make the facility safe for visitors, but it is still little more than a maze of dark tunnels and vast halls. We are left to imagine what it was like when this place was filled with communications equipment and bustling with secret activity. Still, there is something intriguing about the lack of polish... each layer of dirt is like a layer of mystery. As they clean up the facility and make it presentable and interesting for visitors, they also uncover more information about what went on here.

When the museum first opened, the company invited all the local residents to see the place. People who lived in the neighborhood were amazed to discover that this facility was in their midst - underneath the very streets that they had been walking for half a century or more. They also invited former employees to tour the facility and offer their recollections. Documentation about the facility is scarce and inconsistent. But through personal accounts, museum personnel are slowly putting together a complete picture. They have a ways to go, but they are already inviting visitors to participate in sharing their discoveries.

At one point, Jane sent us down one tunnel to explore on our own. "Don't be afraid," she said sweetly. "I will come in a minute."

"I know this trick," I thought to myself, remembering when we were temporarily abandoned by our guide in the darkest depths of the Belizean cave Actun Tunichil Muknal. I followed the rest the group, who were naively strolling deeper into the tunnel.

Suddenly, the lights went out (I knew that was going to happen!) Then: flashing lights, a wailing siren, a very loud but completely incomprehensible announcement over a loudspeaker. Air raid! Of course we knew it was a simulation - but that doesn't stop the heart from pounding, as you stand frozen in the dark chaos.

When Jane rejoined the group, she said that employees at the Tagansky complex suffered immeasurable side effects from the stress of working in this environment, including long shifts, lack of light and impure air. Not surprising - can you say Seasonal Affective Disorder?

The Tagansky complex is situated at the same depth as the nearby metro line. In fact, there are a few places where doors exit directly onto the platform, and others where you can see the trains whizzing by. Jane explained that they used to let visitors watch the trains and wave at passengers, but the Moscow Metro officials decided that was a security breach. So we could hear but not see.

As we left the museum, I noticed a sign that hung in the entry to the museum. It was a quote from George Santayana: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Then we re-emerged at street level. The sun was still shining. People were still strolling. Children were still playing... oblivious to the darkness below.