The Other Einstein(62)
Paul looked up at me. “Why do you say that?”
I gestured to the still smoking Maschinchen.
“This is nothing. Just some faulty insulation. We’ll fix it in no time.”
“Truly?” I asked, relieved.
“Truly,” Conrad answered for his brother. “Once we get it running consistently, we will file the patent application right away. Albert already has most of the application finished, including the blueprints. Right, Albert?”
Albert hadn’t mentioned this to me. I was surprised at his speed, but then, this must be what he’d been working on in the gymnasium workroom while the Habicht brothers assembled the machine. I knew Albert wasn’t as skilled on the practical side as Paul and Conrad.
“Can we take a look at the patent filing, Albert?” Conrad asked.
Albert, his hair a wild, dusty mess around his face, glanced up as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Surely,” he said and stood up. Sorting through a table covered with electrical parts, he pulled out a disorganized pile of papers.
“Here it is. It’s still rough, but this is the general idea,” he said, spreading out the sheets before me and the Habichts.
The sketches were an exact replica of the machine as it had evolved, and the descriptive verbiage necessary for the filing was precise. Paul and Conrad suggested a few minute changes, but otherwise, they expressed pleasure at the draft. I made no remarks, as the patent particulars were outside my expertise. All seemed in order. Now we just had to ensure the proper working of the Maschinchen before we actually submitted the filing.
“Why isn’t Mileva’s name on the patent filing?” Paul asked Albert, a quizzical expression on his face.
I stared at the papers again. Surely, Paul was wrong; Albert would not commit such a grievous sin twice. Not after the months of silence he had endured. My name must be on the filing somewhere. Scanning the page containing the applicants’ information, I saw that Paul was right. Nowhere was the name “Mileva Einstein” listed.
How dare Albert?
The room grew still. Albert, Paul, and Conrad understood the offense and waited uncomfortably for my response. Even the typically frenetic Hans Albert didn’t move, as if he felt the unusual tension in the room.
I wanted to rage at Albert for his thoughtlessness and cowardice. Surely, he could have predicted my reaction, if he had even given me a second thought. Had he been too scared to talk to me directly about the applicants he’d listed? Did he really prefer this public vetting? If Albert would have raised the issue with me in private, explained that the patent would fare better without an uncredentialed woman on the applicant list, I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would have appreciated that he cared enough about me and my feelings to spare me embarrassment in front of Paul and Conrad.
I wasn’t going to let Albert humiliate me, privately or publicly. Not again. I forced a smile upon my face, and as if I’d known about the omission of my name all along, I calmly said, “Why should my name be listed, Paul? Albert and I are Ein Stein—one stone.”
“Of course,” Paul said too quickly.
Albert said nothing.
Very pointedly, I stared at Albert. As my mouth moved to form the words, I felt something pure and trusting harden within me. “Are we not of one stone, Albert?”
Chapter 31
June 4, 1909
Bern, Switzerland
Albert and I slowly began to ignite the world of physics in the months after we received our patent on the Maschinchen, the invention I’d hoped would bring us a steady income. Letters from physicists around Europe began to pour into our Bern apartment on Kramgasse. But none of the letters contained requests for the Maschinchen, which was struggling for acceptance in labs. Instead, once Europe’s most esteemed physics professor Max Planck began teaching relativity to his students, other physicists began inquiring about the four articles we’d published in the Annalen der Physik in 1905, my article on relativity in particular. Not that any of the letters came for me, since my contribution had been erased. No, the letters all came for Albert.
Like a spider, Albert became busy building a name for himself in the center of the intricate web of European physicists. Offers to write more articles and comment on others’ theories for various journals began to appear. Invitations to physics conferences and convocations formed piles around the apartment. Strangers started stopping him in the Bern streets when they learned who he was. But Albert’s new web lacked a sticky foothold for me and Hans Albert. We became merely the tree branches to which the web was attached.
Day after day, I tended to the house, cared for Albert and Hans Albert, and even took in student boarders to live in our two spare rooms, cooking and cleaning for them too. The extra work exacerbated my already aching legs and hips, which had never really recovered from Lieserl’s birth, but I did it without complaint, because I was waiting for Albert to invite me back into the secret world of physics we’d once wrapped around ourselves. Since the Olympia Academy had unofficially disbanded when Maurice relocated to Strasbourg, France, and Conrad returned to Schaffhausen, only Albert could invite me into that world again. I conjectured that if I freed him from financial worry through the student boarders, he could begin theorizing again, and an invitation would ensue. It angered me that I had to take such measures, but there was no other avenue for me to return to science.