Atsushi Watanabe (not his real name) is an ordinary Japanese man in his 20s, about average height and solidly built, with the slightly bemused expression of the natural sceptic. Among the crowds in Tokyo, in his casual all-black clothes, he could be an off-duty postman or a construction worker. But he does one of the more extraordinary jobs on the planet: helping to shut down the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant.
Initially, he says, some day labourers got big money for braving the lethally poisoned air at the plant. “At 100 millisieverts a day you could only work for a few days, so if you didn’t get a month’s pay a day, it wasn’t worth your while. The companies paid enough to shut them up, in case they got leukaemia or other cancers later down the line. But I have health insurance because I’m not a contract worker, I’m an employee.”
Whatever happens, Mr Watanabe has abandoned any hope of getting married. “I could never ask a woman to spend her life with me,” he says. “If I told her about my work, of course she will worry about my future health or what might happen to our children. And I couldn’t hide what I do.”
“I’ll probably get a pen and a towel when I retire,” he says. “That’s the price of my job.”