The Nevada Test Site opened in 1951, chosen for its emptiness - federally owned desert far from major cities (Las Vegas was considered minor enough to risk). The first bomb, 'Able,' detonated on January 27, 1951, with a yield of one kiloton. By the end of testing in 1992, the site had hosted 100 atmospheric tests, 828 underground tests, and an unknown number of 'safety' experiments. Workers needed housing; Mercury was their company town. At its peak, 10,000 people lived and worked here, driving out to Ground Zero, setting up bombs, then retreating to watch the flash. It was industrial work, punching in to end the world in increments.

Mercury was no tent camp. The government built dormitories, family housing, a hospital, cafeterias, recreation facilities, and administrative offices. There was a steak house and a bar - because even bomb makers need to unwind. Workers could bowl, swim, watch movies, or attend church. Mail had its own post office; salaries were spent at the company store. The architecture was standard government - functional, uninspired, identical to military bases nationwide. But the view wasn't standard. Workers could watch mushroom clouds rise beyond the mountains, feel the ground shake, see the flash that meant another successful test. Normal towns don't have radiation monitors on every corner.

The Atomic Energy Commission assured everyone the tests were safe. They were lying. Fallout drifted across Nevada, Utah, and Arizona, settling on farms, schools, and children playing outside. 'Downwinders' developed cancers at elevated rates; the government denied responsibility for decades. Workers at Mercury faced their own exposures - handling contaminated equipment, breathing radioactive dust, working in the aftermath of shots. Many are dead now, their cancers attributed to causes other than the obvious. In 1990, Congress passed the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act, acknowledging what had been denied: the tests poisoned people. Mercury's comfortable facilities were built atop a slow-motion catastrophe.

Nuclear testing ended in 1992. Mercury began dying immediately. Without bombs to test, there was no need for the town. Buildings were mothballed, demolished, or repurposed. The Nevada National Security Site (as it's now called) still operates - subcritical experiments, stockpile stewardship, stuff no one talks about. But Mercury is a ghost of its former self, most buildings empty, the bowling alley silent, the pool drained. The test craters are visible from space - over 900 pockmarks in the desert, each one a detonation. Tours are occasionally offered; they fill immediately. People want to see where the end of the world was rehearsed.

Mercury and the Nevada National Security Site are not open to the public except during rare DOE-sponsored tours - typically once or twice per year, announced through the National Nuclear Security Administration. Tours fill within hours of announcement. Security is absolute: background checks, government ID, no cameras at certain stops. The tour visits Mercury's abandoned facilities, views test craters from Sedan (the largest), and includes the Apple-2 houses built to study bomb effects on structures. The Atomic Testing Museum in Las Vegas provides an accessible alternative, with artifacts and films from the testing era. Mercury itself remains a ghost town, waiting for tours that come twice a year if you're lucky.