I met you in ’92 while, compelled by a school research project, I was flipping through the pages of the 9th volume of the collection Creators of the modern world (Izd. Planeta, 1985), which my parents had on their shelves. There I saw your face and your name for the first time: Robert Oppenheimer. Your photo was next to one of the explosions in Nagasaki. I have to admit that my first impression was of a demented and evil scientist because he is the person who invented the horror of atomic bombs.

After that, we spoke several times, but the most memorable was the last time, recently, in the cinema. I will never forget those three hours that destroyed my prejudices that I had about you and that, for the most part, made me realize that I have more in common with you than with rigid and infallible heroes. And you are a real hero, flesh and blood. Of those who fear, suffer, make mistakes, sweat, contradict, insult and, from time to time, even correct.

With this letter I want to tell you that I admire that deep humanity that makes you real and relatable, even if unattainable. And I start with the least important thing: your class, or as we say here in Guayaquil, your cache. Your intellectual cowboy look is epic. From a medium-short tie to a slightly baggy suit, to a leather hat with a black belt and an unrelenting pipe. A look that also goes perfectly with your exploratory, challenging, cocky and rebellious attitude, yet scientifically flawless and elegant.

“I became death, destroyer of worlds”: who was Robert Oppenheimer, the repentant father of the atomic bomb

Then the most important thing: you were a man of science. Your contributions in the field of quantum physics are enough to enter the pantheon of geniuses who are in Creators of the modern world. But you were not only at the forefront of physics but also of politics, art and philosophy of science. From your quotes from the Bhagavad Gita, to your criticism of social inequalities in the world, your thoughts have influenced generations of politicians, scientists and artists to this day.

(…) he was persecuted and humiliated by those who then asked you to put everything aside and make a bomb.

But, with all the above, you were a man of action. You wanted your thoughts to materialize into concrete improvements for the planet and people around you. From organizing a college professors union to supporting the weight and honor of leading a project that will mark you for life: the Manhattan Project. In the midst of a world war and scientific progress that could not yet be measured, you managed to induce, among others, Szliard, Fermi, Teller, Lawrence and control Feynman, to fulfill their duty of creating a nuclear fission bomb with a destructive capacity exponentially greater than any previously designed weapon . You succeeded, of course, and your success was your later misfortune. The father of the bomb, as you are still known today, was persecuted and humiliated by those who then asked you to put everything aside and make a bomb.

You are a person of action and thinking like few, very few, have been. And with that, you defied all of humanity and gave us a true hero.

Thank you for everything, dear Oppie. (OR)