Two months later, a transport arrived at the warehouse on Stahlwerkstrasse. Four burly men who didn’t speak a word of German unloaded four enormous boxes, and proceeded to unpack the various parts of a small airship. When they left, an exact copy of Beatrice was moored in the warehouse.
The realization dawned on Franz, as he stood alone in the warehouse studying his airship. This new Beatrice was disinterested. She hovered quietly in the space without a trace of warmth. Franz walked along her length. He stroked her skin with a hand. It was cool. He traced the smooth, polished mahogany of her gondola with his fingers, breathing in the aroma of fresh wood and varnish. Then he opened the little door and gingerly seated himself inside, where a musky undertone mingled with the smells of copper and fresh rubber. He imagined that it was Beatrice. He summoned the sensation of warm cushions receiving him, how she dipped under his weight. But this Beatrice, Beatrice II, had a seat with firm stuffing that didn’t give.
“We’ll manage,” said Franz to the console. “We’ll manage. You can be my Beatrice. We’ll get used to each other.”
Anna Goldberg, a printer’s assistant, fell in love with a steam engine. She was the youngest and ugliest daughter in a well-to-do family in Hamburg; her father owned one of the largest printing works in the country. Since Anna showed intellectual talent, she was allowed schooling and worked for her father as his secretary. In that way she would at least earn her keep. Anna was happy with her employment, but not because she loved the art of printing or the art of being a secretary. It was the printing presses. When other girls her age mooned over boys, she had a violent crush on a Koenig & Bauer. However, it wouldn’t do to start a romance openly in front of her father. She saved every pfennig of her income, so that when the day came she could afford to follow her love. At twenty-eight, she was still waiting for the right opportunity.
It finally came the day she met Hercules at the Berlin fair. He was a semi-portable steam engine: a round-bellied oven coupled to an upright, broad-shouldered engine. He exuded a heavy aroma of hot iron with a tart overtone of coal smoke that made her thighs tingle. And he was for sale. Although Anna came to the fair every day for a week to get to know him properly, she had really made up her mind on the first day. She could just about afford him. Anna announced to her parents that she intended to visit a friend and her husband in Berlin, and possibly find a suitor there. Her parents made no resistance, and Anna didn’t tell them her stay would be indefinite. She rented a warehouse on Stahlwerkstrasse and moved her possessions there.
Arriving at the warehouse with Hercules, Anna was greeted by a confused gentleman and a miniature airship who already occupied the space. The gentleman introduced himself as Dr. Hiller, and wouldn’t meet her gaze, but showed her a document. They seemed to have identical leases for the warehouse on Stahlwerkstrasse. Anna and Franz visited the landlord’s office, where a small seborrhoeic woman regretted the mix-up. Sadly, it was too late to save the situation as all warehouses were now occupied. She was, however, convinced that Dr. Hiller and Fräulein Goldberg could solve the situation between them. As long as the rent was paid every month, it wasn’t very important how. They would even get a discount for their troubles. With that, she thanked them for their visit and asked them to leave.
“I can’t have people burning things in the warehouse,” said Franz once they exited onto the street. “The airship is very flammable.”
“What does Dr. Hiller do with it?” said Anna.
“I don’t think that is of Fräulein Goldberg’s concern,” said Franz. “What is Fräulein Goldberg going to power with her steam engine?”
Anna stared at him with a blush that started at her neck and crept up her cheeks. “His name is Hercules,” she said quietly.
Franz stopped and looked at her. “Oh,” he said after a moment, and his eyes softened. “I apologise. I think we share the same fate.”
Returning to the warehouse, Franz led Anna to the airship moored in the far end of the room. “This is Beatrice,” he said, and laid a possessive hand on Beatrice’s gondola.
Anna greeted Beatrice with a nod. “My congratulations,” she told Franz. “She is very beautiful.”
They agreed on sharing the warehouse, with a partition in the middle. Anna brought a simple wood stove. After she pointed out that he, too, would need to cook for himself, Franz allowed her to install it in an alcove in the middle of the far wall of the warehouse, as far away from Beatrice as possible. The alcove became a shared kitchen and sitting room. It even took on a cosy air.
Anna was constantly at work shovelling coal into Hercules’ gaping maw and topping up water for the steam. At night, she would get up every other hour to feed him. Franz, who left for the clinic each morning, imagined she would do the same in the daytime as well, as she was often busy shovelling coal no matter what time of day he came home. Other than that, she mostly seemed to be busy reading technical manuals and papers. She had brought an entire bookcase full of them.
Beatrice remained cold and distant, no matter how Franz tried to warm their relationship. He was meticulous in his care for her. He read newspapers to her daily; he made love to her with great care. Nothing seemed to get her attention. Should he have tried harder to win the first Beatrice? Should he have pursued her more? Why hadn’t he? And the question that plagued him the most—had Beatrice loved him as violently as he loved her? One night, he told Anna the whole story over a shared supper.
“I’ll never find out,” he said. “Did she really love me? Would I have loved her at all, once I got to know her? Perhaps it was just a dream. She might be nothing like I thought she was.”
Anna shook her head, smoothing the pages of the journal she was reading. “I learned something from falling in love with that Koenig & Bauer. Infatuation is worth nothing. It has nothing to do with the real world.” She nodded at the steam engine looming in the corner by her bed. “Me and Hercules, we have an understanding. We take care of each other. It’s a better kind of love, I think.”
“This Beatrice might come to love me, don’t you think?” Franz said.
“She might,” said Anna. “And you have her right here. That’s more than you can say about the other.”
Anna’s relationship to Hercules did seem much happier in comparison, especially when her belly started to swell. The pregnancy was uncomplicated, even though Anna sometimes complained of strange sensations in her stomach. When Franz laid an ear to her belly, he could hear clicking and whirring sounds in there.
“What will you do when it’s time?” he asked.
“I can’t go to the hospital,” said Anna. ”They’ll take the child from me. You’ll have to help me.”
Franz couldn’t say no. He stole what he might need from the clinic, a little at a time: suture, tongs, morphine, iodine solution. He had only delivered babies twice, and never on his own, but he didn’t tell Anna this.
Even when she had contractions, Anna kept feeding Hercules. She wouldn’t let Franz do it. She didn’t stop until she went into labor. The delivery was a quick process. The child was small but healthy, its pistons well integrated with the flesh. But once the placenta had emerged, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Anna bled out in the warehouse, the child on her belly.